by Sophie Avett
Lashes fanned across his cheeks, he suckled her other breast. Hungrily. Greedily. Pleasure darkened her mind and her eyes fell closed. Colors swam as the hum between her legs worsened into a deep, deep ache.
Marshall released the suction with a little pop, and Elsa shuddered, trying to straighten, trying to find the will to chastise him when all she wanted to do was sink her fingers into his hair and touch Valhalla herself.
“There.” He plucked a neat handkerchief out of his pocket and touched his lips. “Now, the desire in your eyes will look real.”
Haze shattered, Elsa’s eyes snapped open. “Tell me why I shouldn’t rip free from this twig and snap you in half.”
He gathered his camera, his expression cool. Too cool for her tastes as he resumed his spot near the stool, melting to his haunches again.
“Well?” she prompted. “Give me a good reason not to punish you.”
His mouth a bland line of boredom, he lifted the scope to his eye. Snap! Snap! Flash! Flash! “Like I said, you’ll have to forgive me, Ms. Karr. I only did it in the pursuit of art.”
Squatting as he was, it wasn’t hard to make out the sizable erection trapped against his right thigh and the confines of the very, very form-fitting trousers. She went taut in her binds, her skin singing. “Liar.”
He chuckled. Snap! Snap! Flash! Flash! “You can punish me as soon as I’m done here. Until then, why don’t you make good on that bark and tell me the riddle you promised.”
She gaped at him. Incredulous. I’m going to kill him.
“Riddle me this, vampire. The more you take, the more you leave behind. What are they?”
“Footsteps,” he said, much quicker than she’d thought he would.
Maybe he’d heard that one before. “Riddle me this. Of all my siblings, which I have many. I am the number, wise old twenty. I always wear, my long thin hat. And stand on one leg, I've never sat.”
“The letter T, Ms. Karr.”
Her mouth quirked. “What walks all day on its head?”
“A nail in a horseshoe. Honestly, don’t feel the need hold back on my account.”
She dropped her head back against her shoulders. “Wonderful, absolutely wonderful.”
After a while, she forgot she was naked. Fiendishly delighted by his intelligence. By the challenge he presented. No one spun riddles like a troll did. And in this, she was every bit her father’s daughter.
“Riddle me this, vampire,” she said breathlessly. “Very few friends I have, renowned I am not. Concealed and shielded behind much, difficult to spot.”
He was quiet. She gave him a few moments. And when he didn’t answer, she tracked him over her shoulder. He’d lowered the camera, his temple furrowed with concentration.
“I’ll give you one more hint. I may be friend or foe, servant or teacher. I am like a bird, I want to be a free creature.”
Butterflies racked her stomach as she watched his beautiful mind work. Study. Dissect. So very sharp.
“Do you yield, vampire?”
“Yes.” It was a whisper. He brushed a stray ringlet onto her shoulder. “That is a very good riddle. What is the answer?”
“A secret. The answer to the riddle is a secret.”
“Why no husband, Elsa?”
Elsa wet her lips. “I don’t date.”
He touched the tip of his nose to her, an angel’s kiss. Innocent. “Why? You’re a beautiful woman.”
Her mouth was dry. “Needless, pretty words. If you want something, you have only to ask.”
Marshall pulled away, his expression going blank. Unreadable. “You really can’t take it, can you?” he asked, though it seemed more to himself than to her. Regardless, she opened her mouth to ask him what the hell he meant by that, when he leaned in impossibly close and whispered, “May I touch you, Ms. Karr?”
Despite the steady pulse between her thighs, she refused him a reaction beyond her signature frown. “For the sake of art?”
Marshall did not smile. He didn’t offer a witty remark. He simply stood staring at her. His face a mask of seriousness. Dark with desire. The boyish hint in him had all but disappeared and left nothing but a man looking at a woman with honest desire.
“Please answer the question, Ms. Karr.”
Elsa’s brow knitted as she searched his expression, trying to pinpoint just what it was about the severe air about him that worried her. He was hardly the playful type, but there was a tension ribbing between them, a vibrating chemistry she couldn’t pinpoint. It lent gravity to her next words. What she said next would be important. Perhaps whatever she said would always be important to this vampire.
“Yes.” She was suddenly breathless. “Touch me, vampire.” The words echoed and rose in the air alongside the faint moans originating from the other side of the backdrop.
He slid his hands down, learning the contours of her shoulders to her wrists. Cool warmth cascaded across her body, loosening her muscles until she threatened to sink. And just like that, Elsa forgot it was snowing at all.
Energy pulsed from the vampire behind her. Demonic, red. Dousing and saturating her lungs, inking from his fingertips, seeping through her mind until she was steeped in his demonic aura. Her body was burning with it. Smoke leapt to life around them, shadows riling as her mind was pulled, pulled so deep, she lost sight of the mountains. It was a dreamlike state and everything was fading to black.
Pressure against her lungs, an incubus’ anchoring point for the cord of attraction between predator and prey. She swallowed against the uncomfortable tickle in her mind, allowing him the access he needed. Somewhere, she wondered whether it was wise to continue to give him access to her mind. Another part held confident to the belief he would not abuse her trust. He had not done so on the balcony or the market. And he wouldn’t do so now.
Short, faint shocks of ecstasy and sensual sighs filled her body near to bursting as he drank in one sure slurp from the well of her Desire. And Elsa arched against the fabric, ass thrusting against the cock she was very sure would fill her soon.
“Elsa, open your eyes.”
The Palatine Light had vanished. Lovers behind the backdrop, the faint sounds of monsters from the market going on nearby—all of it was gone. The backdrop itself had become the world. Elsa’s eyes widened as she gaped up at the winter wonderland. Impossible cobalt blue skies. The color of the Avalon Lake. Glittering snow without the chill of ice. They stood in a tunnel of birch trees, their naked branches catching most of the glitter and snow in their skinny boughs. Snowfall glittered overhead like leaves. Snowcapped blue mountains painted the horizon.
“Vampire…” Her gasp lingered in a sparkling puff of white air. “I can’t… It’s beautiful.”
“It would be, Ms. Karr,” he whispered. “It’s your mind.”
Still bound to a birch tree with charms, she was forced to twist around and shift her probing eyes over the naked curve of her shoulder.
Marshall removed the camera. He was looking at her. Hard. So very hard that if she could’ve taken a step back, she would’ve. Blue eyes solemn, honest. Dark with sadness and an emotion so wholly painful, it looked like yearning. “Tell me, Elsa. What do you desire?” he spoke in her mind.
Tiny blue will o’ wisps leapt to life, dancing and swirling in the pale moonlight like falling stars. She pursed her lips. “What do you mean, my mind? Have you left our bodies to stand like drooling stones?”
“It’s just a charm, an illusion. We haven’t actually gone anywhere. We’re still standing in the middle of the backdrop. Brenda and Alec—whoever they are—are still fucking themselves senseless on the other side. I have simply given us the added privacy of being able to communicate telepathically. Lest our guests feel like they are being outdone.”
Ahead of her, a large lavish mirror appeared, blocking the view of the mountains, and she frowned at the naughty image she presented. Arms pinned in flight to the trees. Naked breasts, nipples perked from the chill of nudity. A vampire with a smirk pressed
at her back.
“And the mirror, vampire?”
He pressed a hot little kiss to the sweet spot behind her ear. “Yes, that bit was me.” Her eyes drifted shut as pleasure riddled her senses. She opened her mouth to object. “Remember, you promised to submit to me in the bedroom. In all things.” He dragged his open mouth up the curve of her neck, marking it with his tongue. “I want to watch.”
Heart beating wildly in her chest, she dropped her head back on his shoulder. “You’re perverse, vampire.”
Marshall’s hand molded against her hip, gliding down the fabric between her thighs possessively. “Afraid of a little temptation, Ms. Karr?”
Sweat rose on the swell of her stomach, the fabric bunched around her hips damp and clinging to her skin. Lust, desire. Longing. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted him to cover her body with his. She would not feel so utterly naked then. “Charm or not, we are not alone. This is not the time, nor the appropriate place for such antics.”
“And yet, you have already agreed that I should touch you.” He cupped her through the fabric, and she edged her legs farther apart. Skilled fingers painted her pussy through the gauzy material, splitting her nether lips, drawing the fabric across every curve in a slow caress that made her blood sing. So very gentle. So tender. The pad of his finger stroked across the impression of her opening. Soaking her juices through her panties. Dampening the front of her dress in a little dark splotch. “Christ…Elsa.”
He bit the edge of her ear. Suckled gently on the lobe, soothed it with his tongue. She let out a little sigh, pressing against him. Melting. “I have the power to change my mind, vampire.”
“And I have the power to never touch you again.” His mouth blazed a trail of fire down her neck, bottom lip painting the underside of her chin before he sealed her in a deep, languid kiss. So deep, navigating his fangs became painful.
She grappled weakly at the thin branches, suddenly thankful for the support. He could not know. He could not know how deeply she felt that kiss. How he had managed to obliterate the moon and the stars with the pull of his mouth. They were melting into each other. The steel necklace swinging down her back was imprinting its shape against her spine. The kiss went on and on, his fingers stroking her bud through the fabric. Teasing and toying with it until she positively hummed with sexual frustration, her pussy tensing and rippling angrily. Clenching and squeezing more honey to greet his fingertips.
His nostrils flared as he drew in her scent. Savoring it. Learning it. Such an animal. Such a man. The ache between her legs grew. Echoing from the top of her head to her fingertips. She purred, rolling her hips in pursuit of more friction.
The vampire was unmoved. “So, tell me, Elsa, shall I fuck you right here? Right fucking now? Or never again?”
“Vampire,” she growled into the kiss.
He tore his mouth from hers, his lips moist. Swollen. Abused. Sensually flushed with color. They curved. It was the look of a man up to no good. “Answer me, little witch.”
Memories of the night before blanketed her mind. They were in a very similar position. Her arms suspended, Marshall pressed at her back. She thought of his touch, his spanks, his ruthless strokes filling and fucking her pussy like it was the only thing that mattered to him. It still wasn’t enough to capitulate to him. Not this way. But there was a marked difference about this encounter, and she couldn’t place it.
When she did not answer, he kissed her eyes. She sank back into the caress. She couldn’t explain it, but it made her feel positively decadent, like a spectacularly gowned woman on one of those Story Witch covers. Gorgeous, sensual, and confident of her allure. Her throat worked as lust so strong it was painful painted her veins. “Fuck me now, vampire.”
He gathered her skirt, satin whispering across her skin. Concealed behind form-fitting trousers, his erection was pressed against the cleft of her ass, and her mouth watered at the thought of touching, tasting everything all over again. Her pussy clenched in anticipation. Suddenly feeling so very empty. Needy. Wanting. Him. All of him. For as long as she could have him. It was already the second night. They would find Madame Mari soon. “Now. Right now,” she whispered.
He crushed his mouth to hers, two fingers slipping across the coarse, slick hair. Sinking deep into her pussy. Stretching her, fucking her with the slender digits the same way he would with his cock. Ruthlessly. She moaned wantonly, trying to take more of his fingers. His other hand was busy, wedged between them as he freed himself from the confines of his trousers. He pushed her down by the small of her back and she widened her stance, doubling forward as far as she could. Giving him all the access he needed. And then, he was inside her. In one sure stroke, he obliterated everything else.
Thick, beautiful cock stroking her inner walls. The tip tapping the sensitive bundle of nerves in the front of her pussy, sending bursts of ecstasy up her spine. Her fingers bit into the branches as her jaw clenched in an effort to stifle a moan. More. She needed more. She needed him to fuck her to the end so the memory would warm her the rest of her life. She clenched her muscles around the pulsing dick impaling itself deep in her pussy.
Marshall threaded his fingers through her hair, a riddled curse slipping between his fangs, his pelvis smacking against her ass. The position was so very close to how trolls mated. So very close to her sweet spot. So very close to driving her to the edge of reason. Her skin felt tight, prickling with desperation. More. More. She arched her hips, jerking back and forth, fucking herself on his dick, unseating their rhythm. More.
As if he’d heard her body’s cry, Marshall gripped her thighs, lifting her up off the ground. She arched back, her eyes flew open as warning whispered up from her ankles. Cool air kissing the soles of her feet as he hooked his hold beneath the bend behind her knee, seating himself so deep—so blessedly deep, her entire body went taut as pleasure shocked her system with each and every bone-numbing thrust.
“Vampire,” she let out a startled cry.
“Mmmhmm.” He buried his face in the side of her neck, sharp points scratching across the curve of her jaw. His biceps flexed as he pistoned her up and down on his cock, with leisurely strength as if she weighed no more than a mere feather. And he was so deep, so very deep, every searing stroke felt like it would shatter her lungs.
Lights danced behind her eyes as he chipped away at her hold on the world until she was nothing more than a speck adrift in a sea of pleasure, so intense, she forgot herself. Elsa Karr, the shrewish landlord no one would ever give a second look, was gone. With each thrust something powerful rose from the ashes of her memories. Another woman. The woman she’d once been.
She hadn’t always been this way. So cold, so rigid. She’d been an adventurous girl once. She’d wanted love once upon time. She’d had it. Held it in the palm of her hand. Liam had touched her the way the vampire was now. As if his world began and ended on the skin of her thigh. He’d been a smaller man than the vampire, but no less virile.
Black Irish. Powerful, stocky. Naked and squatting behind her, thighs braced behind thighs. He’d slipped his hands beneath her arms, held her temple, bucking against her ass as he impaled her on his cock, over and over again. “Lass, if you wanted the stars, I’d rip them from the sky. Every last one of them,” he’d promised, kissing her so deeply she wasn’t even aware when she finally fell. Tears and screams of pleasure echoing throughout the snowcapped mountains.
Marshall’s breath was hot against her ear. “What was his name, Elsa?”
Her eyes snapped open. Horror, pleasure, and pain threatening to rip her psyche in two as she scrambled, trying to find purchase in the torrent. “Shut up,” she whispered, nails gouging splinters out of the tree as she struggled to shove back the memories, pain beginning to ink her veins. No, no, no. Not now. She didn’t want to think of him right now.
“What was his name, Elsa?” Marshall repeated, his angle changing, his grip tightening around her thighs mercilessly. An image of Liam rose strong in her mind and she jerke
d back, pleasure forgotten.
“Shut up,” she growled. The winter wonderland wobbled around her as she attempted to shove the vampire out of the doors of her mind. It was a weak attempt. He’d picked her up, her feet were no longer connected to a surface. She couldn’t pool energy into her body, she couldn’t pull the power to shove him out. And Marshall would give her no quarter, his hips surging to pop her sensitive bundle of nerves. Her sweet spot. Once, twice. Her pussy coiled…tighter. “Stop. Marshall, please.”
“Tell me, Elsa.” He sank his fangs into her shoulder. Piercing pain, followed by burning needle-like pleasure. “Who made you feel ugly, little witch?”
“Vampire!” She went stiff and her eyes watered as the vampire ripped his way through her defenses, plunging into the depths of her desires. Her darkest, most painful desires. An image of Ingrid pressing her up against the display cabinets in her shop, trapping her in a terrible decadent kiss. Another of Marshall nailed down on the St. Andrew’s cross in Club Brimstone, begging for a whip—her whip. Embarrassment, lust. Pure, underrated, selfish desires.
And then another—a cluster of memories that was buried so far into her heart, Marshall’s deep strokes were hardly felt. Too far. Too deep. The images rose like phantoms, clouding her vision until she couldn’t breathe. Images. So many images. Liam’s dimples—both sets. His laugh—deep and burly in that way that suggested he was a bottle-a-day man. More like two and a dash of gin in the evening before bed.
Cigarettes, cannabis, ginger, and the faint linger of sugar from the caramel treats he carried in his pockets. His eyes were wrinkled with wisdom, wonderfully deep blue like the depths of the Avalon Lake. “Shall we run away like the dish and the spoon, love? Frigga shame them for bringing tears to such a sweet frown.” His first words to her on the day they met.
“I can’t, Elsa. I can’t anymore. I haven’t it in me. Release me, before you hate us both, lass. Please.” On the day he left. He’d left the amulet at her feet and it was a whole year before she’d finally accepted he wasn’t coming back.