Captiva Craving

by Talyn Scott

  “Oh, Sixten,” she said on a breathless sigh. He was too much, over the top gorgeous. Where did she fit in with him? Still a teen, she stayed gangly and awkward. But he just stood, gazing down at her, almost in an inhuman way. With his sudden hesitation, she grew wary. “What is it?”

  “I was wondering,” he answered slowly, “if I could keep away from you.” Instead, his hands tightened, his thumb stroking her bottom lip. “You deserve to be happy.”

  Tears fell, their salt stinging her lips. Now, she looked the part – a baby that should not be out with a man. “I was happy, until you said that.” He wrapped a big hand around her head, pressing her face against his warm chest.

  “I don’t like it when you cry.”

  “I know,” she sobbed, clutching him to her. Blythe nearly groaned as she breathed in his intoxicating scent. “A crybaby isn’t very appealing or mature.”

  “What I’m holding in my arms,” he said rather strained, “is not a baby. And only a woman could do this to me.” He took her hand in his, cupping it over his hardness. On her gasp, he asked, “So it is true, then.” A long pause. “Just as I suspected, you are untouched.”

  In so many ways, he sounded old-fashioned, far older than his actual years. “I’m not a prude,” she giggled over her next sob, her mind going left and right. He did this to her, the man holding her close. Sixten made her feel things she never wanted to lose. “I haven’t found. Well,” she stumbled on her words, “up until I met you, no one else appealed, uh, to that part of me.”

  Long, glossy strands touched his lips, him lifting her hair to his face. “God sent you to me, and that’s why I’ll always think of you as my angel. Before you, I existed. Now, I live. Now, I…” He buried his face in her hair, taking deep breaths along with her.

  “Now you what, Sixten?”

  He pulled away again, staring down at her with a truly tortured expression. He gestured to a woolen blanked anchored onto the sand, nestled in an alcove of palm trees. In the far corner, she found a basket with wine, tidbits, and Italian chocolates.

  “You did this?” When he shook his head, she laughed, wiping at her tear-streaked face. “Hopeful?”

  “I don’t believe in hope, but I am certainly prepared to receive what I don’t deserve.” He glanced from her to the blanket. “Shall we?”

  More tears fell. “It’s…thank you.” Hand and hand they neared his special picnic. He eased her down, pressing his delicious weight atop her, a heavy presence but not too overpowering. She blinked up through long lashes thickened with tears. “How can you look at me that way?”

  “What way, moja láska?”

  “Like you see into my soul,” Blythe answered, trembling.

  He tilted his head and asked a question of his own, “What sweet angel lies beneath me?” His tongue slowly licked her bottom lip, moving back and forth. “What sweet angel with open for me?”

  She hugged him, delivering an open mouth kiss where she sucked on his tongue. Sixten laughed against her mouth, his chest vibrating against hers. His shirt dampened with his scent. “Again, I ask,” he whispered. “What sweet angel will open for me?”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh?” More heated kisses and then his tongue stroked a line down her throat. “Is there some type of confusion?”

  “That?” Tonight? He meant tonight!

  “Romantic, nighttime picnic on the beach, you lying underneath me,” he breathed against her throat. She could feel his erection straining as he gently thrust his pelvis against hers. Tight hips worked between her thighs, his hardened length against her thin panties. And although she feared the unknown, she wanted him deeper. “Blythe, is there any question in your mind as to what I want?”

  Just to prove his point, he pulled her oversized t-shirt over her head, groaning at the vision before him. She flushed at his blatant inspection, his eyes moving quickly over her skin – almost too quickly. “Not really, I’m just…new to this.” Something she decided to remind him of incase he expected any fancy moves on her part. She didn’t know any.

  “Don’t tell me you want a ring first,” he teased her, trying to lighten the mood as he eased her bra strap over her shoulder. Teeth followed his fingers, scraping against her flesh, a sensation she never experienced.

  Head going back and forth again, she complained, “I’m dizzy, and I can’t think when you do this to me. And, well, I thought we were…going to eat.” She eyed the basket, hoping to get her wits while snacking on chocolate… or maybe a glass of wine she was not supposed to drink at her age. But Sixten always gave her a glass or two, and with each sip she would become braver. Or more relaxed.

  “We are, and I’ll teach you to eat,” he promised on another nip, this one stronger than the last. “The food will come later when we’re no more than famished.”

  “Six,” she moaned, pushing her hands against his chest. “I think I love you more than you love me.”

  Sixten stopped, looking at her as though she would never be the same. Something told her that she wouldn’t. “If I promised to love you for the rest of my life, angel, would you trust me?”

  “I guess…I already trust you.”

  His hands were everywhere, pushing, pulling, and stroking. She had masturbated for years, brought herself to the verge many times. However, the way he cupped her sex, pushing the heel of his hand down against her sensitive flesh. Blythe realized she’d been doing it all wrong. She moaned aloud, thrashing, biting her lower lip.

  A dizzying static claimed her body. Short electrical currents zapped her as she took off somewhere. In the distance, wherever she was, Sixten was crooning, talking her through it. Pushing her hair back tenderly, he stared into her eyes. Another pressure valve released – this one far stronger than the first. Clenching, grasping, releasing, clenching, grasping, releasing, she felt her eyes open wider. This was what an orgasm felt like. They met eyes, saying nothing. She could not identify his smile, maybe one honed from supreme confidence or simple satisfaction.

  Sixten clearly knew her body better than she did. And as she came down, Blythe tried not to think too hard about what that meant, his experience compared to hers. He pulled her panties down her legs, never taking his eyes off her dark curls, and she forgot about her inadequacies.

  No man would stare at her in that way, unless he though she was perfect.

  Somehow, her body refused to believe she was done, wanting more. Strange tingling spasms taking over every cell made her desperate. “God, Six, end this torture.”

  “No ends,” he said gently, positioning his body over hers again, digging his knuckles into her pudgy stomach as he unzipped his pants, “only beginnings.”

  Although her body was desperate for his, she admitted, “I’m a little scared.”

  “I know.” A salty breeze flittered across her nipples before she realized her bra laid somewhere near her head. “You can stop me if you need to, angel, but know this.”

  “What?” Her brows reached her hairline. A foreboding warning, now?

  As his body slid down hers, open mouth kisses dampened her flesh. Next, he kissed her curls, prodding her thighs apart with his face. “Once you give yourself to me, this part of you that is so very precious becomes mine.” He inhaled over her core. “I will have no other choice but to keep you, Blythe.”

  Nervous laughter left her, but a carefully placed kiss stopped it dead in its tracks. “You have to keep me, huh.” A spell was cast, and she was on the receiving end.

  “You’ll never be the same.” He looked up between her thighs, tracing her labia with a gentle fingertip. “It’s a serious commitment on your part, as well as mine. One neither of us can ever take back.”

  What a mood breaker! “I know you’ll pop my cherry and I’ll never be the same. I’m eighteen for fuck’s sake!” She clenched her eyes, frustration refueling her tears. “Get it over with, moon’s slipping away and my brother’s gonna catch me.”

  “Open your eyes,” he demanded throatily. A stare-down
ensued. Bravely, she brought her hips up, pressing her pussy under his nose. A growl left his chest as he inhaled, a frightening sound only heard during full moons on Sanibel Island. He shook his head, cupped her ass and lifted her. An intimate kiss followed, one she had never had, one that told her everything he was going to do to her in vivid detail.

  She grabbed his golden hair, twisting the strands as he wrapped his lips around her clitoris. “Any man,” he said between slow licks, “would be proud to keep you.”

  “But,” she rasped, when his tongue slid inside her with long calculated thrusts, mimicking the sex act. “I don’t want any man, Six.” His fingers dipped inside as his mouth went back to her clit. Her ass stayed perched in one of his large hands as if she were weightless.

  She watched as his blond head moved over her sex, his shoulders bunching and releasing. “You’re so plump and beautiful here, Blythe. Your flesh is the perfect shade,” he groaned, “the perfect feel.”

  He was magnificent, and she was desperate for everything. Even things she knew nothing about. Once again, the pressure was mounting, an undeniable force she understood as sexual need. “Now! I want it now!”

  He prowled up her, slanting his mouth over hers, fogging her mind with the musky taste of her sex on his lips. Sixten’s other hand joined the first, sliding under her hips. Before she registered the sensation, one penetrating thrust brought him inside. She dug her nails in his nape, gasping in pain. “Not what I expected at all.”

  Experienced hands left her hips, sliding up and down her back. “You are better than I expected,” he whispered as he kissed her temple with tenderness. “I want this forever.”

  She swallowed roughly, panting. “Right between my legs, it burns like hell’s firestorm.” She shook her head no. “You’ve got to take it out.”

  “Kicking me out so soon?” But he stayed right where he was.

  Her thighs started trembling, so he ran one of his arms under her right knee, taking its weight. “You’re body’s new to this position.” And with a slow wink, he gave her the raunchiest look imaginable and brought his thumb and forefinger to her swollen clit. She yelped when he proceeded to pinch her. And as she wiggled, he slid home.

  “Look at me,” he ordered her again, lifting a pink-tinged fingertip to his lips. “Look at what you gave me.” Sixten’s tongue snaked out, licking every trace of her virgin blood. Pulling all the way out, he slid in slowly, gaining momentum with every slide and pull.

  This time, she went to a different place. “I swear I’m glowing,” she gasped. Swimming in her mind until everything prickled and darkened, pleasure was all she knew. “Oh, my…”

  His words turned foreign, maybe Russian, but the dialect was way off kilter – almost ancient. He shook his head as if to clear it. “That’s it, angel,” he praised her, rocking his hips, sweat dripping off his brow. “This one’s stronger than the last. Be prepared.” He curled up, lifting her hips, hitting a spot that crossed her eyes. “Let it go for me. Ride it up.” Thrust. “Over.” Thrust. “and out.”

  “It feels…good.”

  “Yes. Yes, it does.” Thrust. “But there’s one thing you’re wrong about, Blythe. You can’t possibly love me more than I love you. For my selfish love, I’ve now thrown your innocent life into chaotic madness. And one day, I swear you’ll hate me for it.” When her sex clamped down on him, his head went back. “Oh, that’s so fucking perfect, angel.”

  “Six?”

  “No more talking, Blythe. No. More.”

  When she hit her peak, all she could see was an inky vision where her man used to be, though he remained firmly inside her body. “S-Sixten?”

  “Enough!”

  “Where did you go?”

  “I said enough of this Sixten!”

  Blythe tried not to cringe at the sound of Gianni’s melodic voice. She looked around her so-called room. “Is it night or day?” Her sleep consisted of naps here and there when he was, supposedly, away. Now? The bastard had slipped in on her, spooning against her back as she dreamed about losing her innocence to her husband. Nearly a decade ago, she first accepted Sixten in her body, but it felt like yesterday.

  “Maybe I’ll change my mind about killing him.” His hand slipped between her thighs, gathering the moisture found there. Not for him. “I never wanted to cause the female I loved pain, not in that way. But I must confess that I’m losing my will in this, Blythe.”

  Dare she want Sixten to find her, signing his very death warrant?

  No, but she had to get out of here.

  “My cousin Prince Volos is due today.”

  “Today?” This day marked her only chance for escape.

  He was naked, pressing his length against her back crevice. “I want to hear my name from your lips, Blythe.” His dark hair fanned her as he reached around, cupping her breasts with his arousal-slickened fingers. “A vampire of my standing should never beg.” He pinched nipples and she jumped. “You always wanted me to hurt you, didn’t you? It makes it easier to pretend you have no feelings for me. Making me into the monster you’re more comfortable with, and not the male I want to be with you.”

  She bit her lip. Words would not save her, not with him. “W-what time is your cousin arriving?”

  “So anxious to join with me?” he asked mockingly. “Soon but not before I have a chance to love you, Blythe,” Gianni murmured, easing her on her back. As he positioned himself, his jaws popped wide, his fangs moved down the front of her throat. He was going to feed. Something he had not done since her capture. By the look on his face, he would take his time, making it a leisurely stroll through the park, a deranged one. “We have plenty of time for this, for us.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  A Covert Mission

  The night moved restlessly, the moon peeking between clouds. Maestru opened double doors that led to the main house on his Captiva estate, smelling an impending storm while welcoming his guests. Dressed in Dolce and Gabanna, he enjoyed any time he spent out of his fighting leathers.

  Just night tonight.

  Still, he was not the sort of male who usually worried.

  Exceptions to his rules always came without warning.

  “Sire, t-the werewolves are not eating.”

  Over his shoulder, he studied Luisa, a Species who ran this particular household perfectly. “Wouldn’t you consider that a good thing?” Werewolves would never partake of anything in a vampire’s house, much less his house. And, not long ago, he had held their queen captive here. “Presentation, Luisa,” he murmured. “Refreshments are offered to non-feeding guests. In return, they pretend I’m a gracious host.” Raising his chin as more appeared; he waved them in, smiling cordially. The very idea Luisa would fear werewolves in her Master’s house rankled. Presently, his Species would like nothing more than to punish her for her reckless insolence. With a lazy shrug, he decided he might tomorrow. “I scent your distress and they will, too.”

  She stilled, her fear more pronounced now. This time, directed at him. “I apologize, my Master. I trust my protection in your hands.”

  Apparently not. “Have you prepared a guest suite for our visitor’s arrival?”

  “On your floor, as you specified,” she answered enigmatically.

  Maestru never explained himself, but in this case. “She is human.” Luisa’s eyes widened a fraction, though her lips stayed shut when more guests entered. “Sixten, Kash, Oycher, welcome and quickly find the library. Qudir waits for you there.” Back to his trembling servant, he continued, “No one touches her besides Dr. Holt. Serve her as you serve me.”

  “Oh, she is a sick one?”

  “Healing and word of her arrival will not spread throughout the Coven by anyone’s lips.” Pinning her with steely eyes, he warned, “No one likes a chinwag, Luisa, no matter how bored you are. Now, mist off the island, awaiting my summons to return. Your fear is an irritation.”

  “As you wish, sire.”

  On cue. “Prince Volos, what a high honor, welc
ome to my home.” He gestured grandly, bowing as the prince of vampires stepped through his threshold, wearing a cowl of all things, gliding across black and white checkered marble glossed to a remarkable sheen.

  “Maestru, I appreciate the magnitude of your Coven’s situation regarding rogue Habalines.”

  Maestru closed the doors with his mind, passing several floor to ceiling windows gleaming under a mounting moonlight. And he didn’t need any guesses to know the werewolves were feeding from the celestial pull. Great, he thought, fire it up.

  Waiting until they left the grand foyer, Prince Volos added, “I will do what I can, however; my visit is short lived. I understand your last minute call to the Dynasty was urgent and I’m the closest royal available. However, I am expected at a familial Dynasty function starting in a few hours, one I cannot miss.”

  “How exciting, here in Florida?”

  No answer and then, “I scent Beasts and them.”

  “Yes, this way, if you will. And your needn’t worry about your time constraints, Sire. You can imagine, considering everyone involved, our multi-faction meetings are short, to the point.” Seeing as how Adam also attended, Marco Island’s underground facility would not host this meeting. He didn’t trust a Habaline who attacked Dru anywhere near his healing subjects. Neither would the Vojak Sanctuary welcome werewolves under any circumstances, so here they were.

  “I would hope so,” he said with a curled lip.

  All stood when he entered with the prince. Unquestionably, his library was a striking room paneled in warm walnut shelves lined with a variety of ancient tomes and modern writings. Probably his favorite room in this house, its Gothic design refused to blend in with the island’s casual charm. Although the oversized library boasted soaring majestic ceilings, rising to the third floor, he would be the first to admit, tonight, it seemed a bit cramped.