by Mara Leigh
I reach down to find his erection, warm and hard, yet velvety soft as I run my palm down its surface. I didn’t get the chance to touch him before, and my hand can’t seem to get enough.
Moaning, he pulls back from the kiss and my hold, shaking his head. “I’ll gladly make you feel good again.” He winks. “Very good. But regretfully, I think we’d better put this bloke away for tonight.” Grimacing, he tucks his erection under the leather and starts to button his fly.
“No.” I reach my hand inside the flap to touch him. “Then why did you make me say it?” It doesn’t seem fair.
He moans, his abs undulating as he catches his breath. I want to touch his stomach too, but sense that it might be too much while I’m still holding his cock. Too much for us both.
“Baby, you must be sore. I took you—hard—barely a half hour ago. Even if it hadn’t been your first time…you’re bruised inside, chafed. You’ll be walking weird for a few days.”
Squeezing him in my palm, I rise onto my knees and kiss him again, loving how his groan vibrates my lips and quivers through my entire body.
“I don’t feel sore.” I look into his eyes, stroking him softly, wanting him to see that I’m telling the truth, wanting him to see the strength of my need.
“You sure?” He looks into my eyes as he slides his thick index finger between my legs, thrusting it inside me hard and twisting it, letting me feel his skull ring, as if he wants to prove me wrong.
I gasp in pleasure, sliding my hips forward to take in more of him, trying to recreate the earlier friction.
“See?” I say. “Not sore.”
“My cock is bigger than my finger,” he says in an almost growl, his expression conflicting with desire and concern as he grinds and twists his finger inside me.
I grip him more tightly. “I’m well aware of that.” Tugging his cock, I pull him forward.
“Shit.” He falls into me. “Fuck!” He hisses. He pushes my knees farther apart on the sofa and presses a second finger inside me.
I arch my pelvis, trying to pull him deeper.
“You’re really not sore?” His eyes widen full of wonder and lust. “Most human women would be raw after that pounding.”
I shake my head as my hips pump, sliding me over his fingers, pulling them deep inside me, loving how they’re stroking my insides, even if they aren’t satisfying me like his cock did.
My knee slips off the edge of the sofa and his fingers drive even deeper, joined by a third, and all his top knuckles strike my folds, almost like a punch. Awkwardly, I thrust my hips against his hand and he keeps me from falling with his other arm. I am completely out of control. My body is fully driving the bus now.
“Okay, baby.” His voice lowers. “Okay. Okay. Slow down.” His tone is gentle, as if taming a wild animal, and that’s how I feel. Wild, out of control, and so needy, so desperate. Not myself, but I don’t care about that.
He pulls his fingers out and licks them, closing his eyes in pleasure.
“Fuck.” He sucks hard on his digits. “Ember. I warn you. There is no way I’m going to be able to hold back this time.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ember
“I don’t want you to hold back. Don’t hold anything back. Please.” Lying on the sofa, I spread my legs wide as he removes his pants and tosses them away.
“I’ve never felt so alive,” I tell him, “and so strong, so…so on fire.”
Standing next to the sofa, he strokes my legs as he trains his gaze on my slick sex. His huge hands span my thighs, his fingertips meeting around my legs and then traveling down to my ankles and back, teasing my skin, making me writhe with desire. Slowly, his gaze travels up to meet mine.
Looking straight into my eyes, it’s like he truly sees me, like I don’t have any secrets from him, and I wish that I didn’t. I don’t think I can talk at the moment, but if I could, I’d tell him everything—about my mother, my recurring nightmares, my fear that I’m crazy.
Not only do I want him to know everything personal about me, I’d give him every one of my PINs and passwords, if it got him inside me more quickly.
Taking his cock in one hand, he kneels one leg on the sofa between my spread legs, and my insides pulse with anticipation, my wetness seeping out. Can he see it?
Trembling, I wait for him to move over me, to push that hard cock inside. But instead he reaches down and lifts me off the sofa.
In a flash, he lifts me into the air and brings me down hard, impaling me on his cock. The movement’s so fast that my body reacts and I cry out, before my mind fully registers what he’s done.
My hands land on his shoulders and then I cup one behind his head as we look into each other’s eyes. I start to recover from the quick stab of pain and absorb his massive invasion.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod, my body now adjusted to his girth and length, and the sharp pain of penetration morphs into pleasure, as he fills every last inch of me.
“You absolutely sure you’re not too sore?” he asks.
Licking my lips, I shake my head.
“Because this time… Fuck, Ember, now I’ve had a taste of you…once I start…”
I tighten my inner muscles around him, a new trick I’ve learned, and he exhales through nearly closed lips.
“This time I can’t be so gentle,” he finishes his sentence.
That was gentle?
Excitement stirs inside me. I nod, but then fear joins my desire. Fear and dirty thoughts I’ve only had in my dreams. Dirty thoughts of being taken brutally for hours by multiple men taking turns. Thoughts of being completely dominated, unable to move as my body is used for a man’s pleasure.
“My venom didn’t put you to sleep,” he says, stroking my back. “But maybe it had an effect on your cunt. Or maybe it was my spunk.” His hips start moving, slowly rocking into me, and the subtle motion only makes me want more, so much more.
I tighten my legs’ grip around his hips. “Your…cock definitely has a strong effect on me…” I gasp. “Down there.”
“Where?” He winks and then gasps as I tighten around him.
“In my…cunt.” I try to get used to the word.
“You have a strong effect on me too.” He chuckles, low and deep, then he thrusts a few times, hard and fast.
I gasp, my breath stolen by the sudden intense movements, and then he stops again, his jaw clenched.
Shaking his head, he looks into my eyes with concern. “Fuck. It’s like…like I’m driven to…to fucking consume you.”
A shudder traces through me, and he pauses, breathing heavily, sucking in a few ragged breaths as if the effort to draw air is herculean.
“I feel this drive to fuck you,” he says, “to fuck you harder than I’ve ever fucked anyone, but I’m afraid.”
“Don’t be afraid.” I stroke his cheek. “I want you to do whatever you need…to do anything—everything—to me. I want to feel it all, but especially your hard cock pounding deep inside my cunt.” My words still sound strange on my lips, but I mean them, and I tighten around his girth.
His eyes fill with pleasure, but then his expression quickly shifts to something darker, something that scares me.
“I can take whatever you have to give me, Ryker.” My voice is trembling with fear. “I promise.”
I’m about to add some caveats to my bold statement—I barely just lost my virginity—but gripping my hips tightly, he starts pumping, thrusting his hardness deep inside of me, over and over.
He’s thrusting so quickly I can’t see him move. But I can sure feel it.
I grip onto his shoulders, my face pressed against his chest, as he uses the combined force of his torso and legs, against the opposing force of his arms to draw himself out and then slam back into me, so much harder and deeper and faster than before.
The force is so unexpected, so consuming, so wonderful, I can no longer distinguish pain from pleasure—I feel both with each stroke.
And still he a
ccelerates further, moving so quickly my sex starts to burn, almost like I’ve been slapped down there—spanked—and that’s how it sounds as our bodies slap together. Something rises to bump my ass in time with his strokes. Is that his balls?
That thought flies out of my head as an orgasm overtakes me.
My head snaps back and my body undulates as my sex explodes with hard pulses, but if he notices what’s going on inside me he doesn’t slow down. If anything, the force of his thrusts increases, their speed accelerating, and his grip on my ass cheeks tightens, as if he thinks that if he uses enough force to pull me down onto his cock, he can drive straight through me. Maybe he can.
But then he slows, letting me come down off the ceiling and back into my body, as the last aftershocks of my orgasm ripple through me.
Sliding inside me more slowly again, he lifts me almost off his cock and then carefully controls my speed of descent until he’s fully seated inside me.
Over and over he lifts me slowly and pulls me back down, every inch of him abrading my burning inner muscles in the most delicious way.
I’m so sensitive now—finally understanding his expectation of soreness—and I can’t think of words to describe this feeling—like pain and pleasure have married, joined forces to give me all the sensations I crave, sensations that radiate from our coupling to invade every other part of my body, my soul.
Moaning now, I lift my head to find him looking into my eyes, and the connection as we look into each other’s souls seems even more real than the physical joining of our sex organs. And still, he continues to slowly lift me and slide me down, impaling me over his thick, hard shaft again and again.
“Still okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse.
“Very.” I don’t want this to end, not ever. Even though I’m sore, if anything, my climax amplified my desire. As magnificent and luxurious as his long, slow thrusts feel, my body craves more friction. Craves the feeling of his power dominating my body, controlling my senses, my mind, completely.
“Want to try something a little more adventurous?” he asks.
“Yes. Anything. Everything.”
Again his eyes darken and fear shoots inside me. What did I say? My inner muscles tighten, as if questioning my boldness and making a futile attempt to hold him still. But my slight fear of this man, this man who claims he’s a vampire, only seems to boost my desire, and instead of clamping down on him, my vagina—my cunt—involuntarily starts to massage him, as if it knows these tricks by instinct, and my juices build, my appetite for him growing.
His cock still buried deep inside me, Ryker walks us toward the window. Then, manipulating me like a rag doll, he lifts me off his cock and turns me to face out. As soon as my feet touch down, he pulls back my hips and drives into me hard from behind.
My hands slam against the glass to stop my head from going through the pane, but I realize there was no risk of that. He’s got a tight grip on me, one hand on my shoulder, the other around my hips.
Our reflections shine back from the window, against the backdrop of lights of the city, and he slides in and out of me slowly, gently. Although this penetration from behind feels even deeper, almost too deep at first, I soon find myself pushing back to meet each long thrust, loving how I can affect the depth, make his strikes harder or softer depending on whether I rock with or against him.
I’m just getting used to this position, when his foot nudges one of mine farther to the side, spreading me open and putting me off balance.
His hands land on my breasts to catch me.
I can’t even reach the glass anymore and any pretext of controlling the thrusts’ depths has vanished. I’m completely dependent on him for support now, and he holds me where he wants me, kneading my breasts, rubbing my nipples with his thumbs as his cock slowly pumps.
Our reflection is clear in the window, and I love looking at him behind me, hoping I can make eye contact, but his eyes are closed tight, his face strained. Either he’s about to climax, or he’s once again holding back.
The answer to my unspoken question comes.
His drives surge to new heights—or I should say depths and speeds—and the force steals my ability to think or to see or to hear or to feel anything beyond his cock pounding inside me.
I can’t think of words to describe how quickly he’s slamming into my body now. And when I manage to open my eyes and glimpse our reflection in the window, I can’t even see that he’s moving.
Vampires can move too quickly for the human eye, he told me. He looks still, but my body tells an entirely different story than my eyes.
The friction inside me is overwhelming, and so is the heat on my nipples as his thumbs flick over them. I can’t see his fingers moving either but I sure feel them. Boy how I feel them. Over and over he drives inside me as he squeezes my breasts and abrades my tight nipples, and I gasp for air, unable to find the space to breathe.
My chest rises as he straightens my body. His drives lift my feet off the floor and he holds me aloft from behind, supporting my entire body weight with his hands on my breasts. And while I can’t even see us moving in the reflection, I can certainly feel that we are, feel it in our other point of connection, my weight supported by his cock deep inside me as he continues to thrust with incomprehensible force and speed.
He slows to a point where I can see him moving—but still so quickly. Over and over he pulls his hips back as his hands on my breasts lift me, and then he slams me back down to meet his hard thrust. I’m like a rag doll, a toy he’s controlling, but I don’t mind, I don’t mind one bit.
A deep moan rumbles from his chest, moving deliciously through me, and his thrusts slow again. But he’s still moving faster than I thought a man could physically move, definitely penetrating me more than once per second, but I can fully see the act now, and the visuals heighten my desire.
I’ve never seen or imagined anything so sexy as Ryker holding me aloft as if I weigh nothing, manipulating me, using me, his powerfully strong body pumping me over his hard thick rod, holding my breasts, flicking my nipples as he drives his huge cock inside me.
Stepping forward, he presses my chest against the glass and one of his hands slides down my torso to land on my clit.
My hips buck back, and his mouth closes over my shoulder, his teeth scraping, but not biting, his tongue licking as he sucks on my flesh.
Then his drives slow even more, luxuriously sliding inside me so that each one takes an eternity compared to before. One hand pinches my nipple lightly as the other mirrors that action on my clit.
I writhe against his squeezing of my clit and nipple, my hips’ small involuntary actions the only illusion of movement I can control, as I remain trapped between the window and the force of his massive, strong body. I’m held off the floor by his hand and his cock, fully controlled by the pain and pleasure of his simultaneous pinches, both harder now and turning painful. Every nerve in my body is now focused on those two hard points under his unrelenting pressure.
He lifts his lips from my shoulder, leaving my skin feeling damp and hot. “You’re going to come now,” he growls against my ear, and the pressure of his pinching loosens slightly.
“Wha—?” The word doesn’t even escape my lips before another colossal orgasm strikes, its explosions radiating from my sex to detonate in every part of my body. All the blood that rushed to meet his pinching is now flowing everywhere else.
I know the French call orgasms the little death, and I understand why. I feel certain I won’t survive this intact. I can no longer see, no longer hear, I can’t breathe. My toes, still off the ground, curl, and my back fights to curl too, fighting against his hold, my head slamming back against his chest as his fingers continue to expertly draw out my climax, rubbing and pinching both my nipple and my clit in some kind of torturous composition. This man is a maestro with my body, knowing exactly how to draw out the very best and biggest performance from deep inside of me.
And my orgasm continues, less intense no
w, but wave upon wave of contractions continue for so long I can barely remember how my sex organs feel when they aren’t convulsing.
My body goes limp, turns to mush as Ryker continues to push himself slowly inside me, and I barely notice when he slides out, turning me and lifting me into his arms.
“You okay little dove?” he asks.
I nod against his shoulder. “Mmm hmm.” I am okay, but my vagina seems scalded, bruised, but at the same time I feel so very contented. The sense memory of his girth filling me makes me want him inside there again.
“Can I—” he stops himself mid-question, and it takes all my remaining energy to lift my head to look into his eyes.
His expression shows worry, maybe shame, and he’s holding his mouth rigidly shut.
I stroke his face to reassure him. “You haven’t come yet, have you?”
“No, but—”
“Keep going until you finish,” I tell him. It might hurt, given how I’m burning, but after all the pleasure he’s given me, I want him to feel as fabulous.
I press a kiss against his closed lips, and they’re tight, resisting, and I can’t decide whether I’m relieved or disappointed that he’s not already pounding inside me again.
I look into his eyes. “Was it something else you wanted to ask me?”
He opens his mouth to reveal—fangs. Long sharp teeth protrude from behind his incisors that definitely weren’t there before.
“Don’t be afraid.” He looks into my eyes, but it’s his eyes that show fear. “I need to do this.” His voice is strained. “I can’t…resist your blood. I can’t resist anything about you.”
I inhale sharply as I realize what he’s going to do. He’s going to bite me again. To drink my blood. It felt good before, even though I wasn’t sure what was happening. In fact, it didn’t just feel good, it felt great.
And every last ounce of my doubt is gone. Ryker is a vampire, and even though we only met last night, I know I can’t resist him. I need him like nothing I’ve ever needed before.