Christine hastily set the box back down on the table and turned in the direction of the sound. She breathed out in relief when the man emerged a few seconds later; she hadn’t been caught. He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at her with his piercing eyes. His eyes were so dark they looked black but, still, there was a bright shine to them. Christine felt her face flush when his gaze roamed slowly over the length of her slender body. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he took a few steps forward. Christine felt the wind escape her; he was dashingly handsome, but his presence was what truly took her breath away.
“Good evening,” his deep voice came, smooth as silk.
“Go-good evening,” Christine stammered.
Nobody had ever had such an effect on her. Christine always prided herself on being in control and playing it cool. The truth was that she always thought she was better than those around her, so she had no reason to feel nervous. This man, however, elicited feelings in her she did not even know she was capable of experiencing. What got to her the most was the fact that he managed to captivate her to such a degree with so little effort or contact.
“Are you hungry?”
“No,” she replied, “I didn’t think this was a dinner invitation.”
“Oh? Then what sort of invitation, exactly, did you believe it to be?”
Christine sensed the insinuation in his tone, so she clarified, “I didn’t believe it to be anything specific. I didn’t know what this was, especially after…”
Christine looked away. She heard him take a few steps closer and she had to take in a deep breath before raising her head to meet his gaze once more. She knew that looking into his eyes now that he stood nearer to her had the potential to overpower her for some mysterious reason. She tightened her hold on her clutch purse, hoping to keep some semblance of control over herself and her mind.
“Say it,” he told her quietly.
Christine shook her head before finally looking up and asking, “Why did you invite me here tonight?”
“I’m as curious about you as you are about me,” he admitted.
Christine felt the lump that had formed in her throat drop heavily to her stomach. He was interested in her. He was genuinely interested, just as she was. But she wondered how he was so sure of what he was saying. Was she truly that obvious? As if answering her question, he took a step forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. Christine gulped.
“Do you enjoy wine?”
As soon as Christine nodded, the man disappeared down a hallway. She stared at him before turning to look at the velvet box once more. She reached out and ran her finger over it, tracing its edges. Why, oh why, was her desire to open it so immensely strong? Christine bit her lower lip and looked over her shoulder. Surely she had a few minutes to take a quick peek before he returned with a glass of wine for her. After all, he needed to uncork it and all. Throwing caution to the wind, Christine picked the box up and was just about to open it when she heard footsteps again. “It’s like he knows,” she thought exasperatedly.
“Red or white? Although,” the man paused, “The red, I find, is so much more delectable.”
His eyes sparkled in an almost predatory way as if he were enjoying something particularly satisfying. At her core, Christine knew this was cause for alarm, but it only drew her to him more. The understated danger that came along with accepting the mysterious man’s invitation was a thrill unlike any she’d ever known before. She couldn’t stop herself from plunging forward no matter how much logic told her otherwise.
“Red,” she breathed out, “Is perfectly fine.”
“Perfect,” he responded.
Christine expected him to walk away at that point so when he walked up to her, she took a step back and bumped into the table. He grasped her waist and held her up, his face inches from hers. She held her breath. Would he kiss her again? With his free hand, he reached around to the back of her head and, instantly, her heart began to race. She could practically feel his lips against hers again just from recalling the sensation now that he was in such close proximity. But when he tugged at the ribbon on her head and her curls bounced freely, the tips of them grazing her exposed neck and back, she shivered involuntarily.
The man smiled and wound a curl around one of his long, slender fingers. She breathed out shakily. His gaze dropped to her lips, and she leaned in, just slightly, indicating how much she wanted to feel his lips against hers again. But he did not give in. He let go of her and turned to walk down the hall, leaving Christine standing there with weak knees and strong desire. A few seconds later, like clockwork, her hand was wrapped around the tiny velvet box once again.
“I have to make it this time,” she whispered.
She held the box up to the light as it laid flat on the palm of her hand. It was absurd how one small, simple thing was driving her mad with curiosity. Something deep within warned her that this box, the very box she held, was the reason the man had been so cold last time she was in his loft. Even then, she could not help herself. She opened it slowly with great anticipation, almost as if some primal need to know what was inside it had completely taken over her. Inside she found what looked like a gold ring. There were no gems, stones, or engravings on it. The only thing that kept the ring from being completely plain was a sharp point at its center. She was so enthralled by finally beholding what was inside the small box and so confused as to its significance that she completely missed the sound of the man’s approaching footsteps.
“Do you know what it is you’re looking at?”
There was a loud clatter as Christine dropped the box and it landed on the table. She scrambled to make sure the ring had not fallen out or the box broken, but she felt his hand wrap around her arm to stop her. Christine froze. He pulled her back to turn and look at him. His face was serious but not at all cold or angry like she thought it might be. He reached around her, his hand grazing her waist, to pick up the box. He plucked the ring from it and held it up, the light catching on the shiny gold.
“Do you know what this is?”
“I don’t,” she said before looking away from the ring to meet his gaze and finally saying, “But is that really a surprise? After all, I don’t even know who it is I am looking at.”
An indiscernible looked crossed the man’s face as he said, “Perhaps this ring can clue you in on both counts.”
Christine narrowed her eyes, confused. However, when the man slipped on the ring and placed his hand on her shoulder, she felt something else wash over her. He walked slowly around her, his hand grazing the bare skin at the base of her neck. When he stood behind her, she could feel his breath and his body. She stood completely still, holding her breath for whatever it was he would reveal.
“Before I do this,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Before I do this,” he repeated, disregarding her question, “I need to know if you’re sure you want to have all your questions answered.”
He swept the curls away from the side of her neck, and Christine felt her eyes droop. Of course, she wanted to know. She wanted exactly that with every fiber of her being, no matter how uncertain and even frightening it might be. There was something about this man that made her soul feel like it was newly alight, and that was not something she could pass up.
“Yes,” she finally breathed out.
That was when she felt a small spike pierce the skin at the side of her neck. Christine gasped and let out a little cry, completely shocked. But then she felt his lips on her skin as his mouth closed around the wound and she leaned back into his body. Her eyes shut when he began to drink her blood, making her feel a euphoria she had never known before. It was only then that she knew what it really felt like to have her soul be infused with new life.
Chapter Seven
The sensation of him drinking her blood directly from her neck was unprecedented. It was indescribable. Every part of her that should have told her to stop this and run far, far away was completely shut off. A
ll she cared about in those moments was the euphoria sweeping over her. Christine’s pupils dilated, and heat ran through her veins. It was the kind of hotness akin to being extremely aroused, but it was sharper and stronger.
“Oh, Oh!” she finally cried sharply.
He finally drew his head back, but not before licking her wound clean. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against his chest. She could feel his breath land heavily on her ears and smell the blood in his mouth. Maybe others would have found it unsavory, or even repulsive, but all it did for Christine was keep the exhilaration alive.
“Now you know what it’s for,” he told her through ragged breaths.
Christine couldn’t speak. Her body felt simultaneously weakened and invigorated. It was as if feeling him drink from her had formed a bond between them that enlivened her, but she’d lost physical control of her body. She wanted to turn and face him. She wanted to know what his eyes looked like now and feel whatever he felt, but she could do nothing more than shut her eyes and lean her head back against his shoulder. In that moment, Christine could have sworn she never wanted to be away from him. She wanted to keep on taking what he had to offer.
“Come here,” he commanded.
For a moment, Christine did not understand. She was already pressed up against him. But when he gripped her wrist and tugged she realized he wanted her to turn and face him. Without giving it a second thought, she complied. The instant her eyes met his, everything shut off. Nothing in the world existed at that moment other than the look in his deep, dark eyes. Christine almost wanted to thrust her neck against his mouth and plead for him to keep on drinking but there was something else she wanted even more than that– she wanted him.
Christine pressed her hands to his chest before sliding them and resting them on his broad shoulders. She looked deep into his eyes and felt like he was taking hold of her just with his gaze. She moved her hands down to feel him, enjoying every second even if there was no direct skin contact. Christine ran her hands over his shirt and felt heat building higher and higher as she leaned into him, her hand resting on his belt buckle. She let out a little gasp when a hard bulge pressed against her.
“So,” she whispered, “Drinking my blood turned you on.”
“And didn’t it turn you on?”
Christine did not want to respond with words. She wanted to show him just aroused she was and explore being intimate with him. For some reason she could not explain, she was filled with a profound sense of what she could only believe was trust. Now that he’d tasted her, truly tasted her, it was like they had somehow been sealed together. She was in him in a unique way, and it made her feel like she could do anything with the man standing in front of her.
He leaned forward and captured her lips, initiating a scorching kiss. The sensation was even more heightened than the first time their lips had touched, and it was a sensation that she never wanted to end but that she also knew was too intense to handle for an extended period of time. Christine ran her hands up his torso and undid the top button of his black shirt, only then noticing her hands were trembling. In fact, her entire body was shaking. She’d never been so aroused or felt so alive in her life. She also had never experienced a sense of consternation in this setting, much less have it spur on the intense desire coursing through her body.
Then she felt him slip his hands under the hem of her dress to pull it higher and she could barely breathe. Despite the darkness of his eyes mimicking that of a bottomless pit, the hunger in them was unmistakable. She felt so wanted by this man that elicited entirely new and extreme ardor in her. He pulled the hem of her dress up to her hips and pressed his arousal against her center, causing her to tremble even more. The clothed contact was driving her crazy, especially when she felt his hands move slowly over the curve of her hips and onto her waist. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked the skin of her back, barred by the deep-V of her dress. Even if it didn’t make sense, she understood at that moment why he’d wanted her to wear this dress.
His hands wandered over her back until his fingers found the hidden hook keeping it closed. He undid it and smoothly pulled down the zipper in one quick motion, tugging down the thick straps immediately after to expose her large breasts. His fingers traced circles around the sensitive flesh as his eyes greedily took in the view. Christine ran her fingers through his jet-black hair and rested her hand at the side of his head, pushing gently down, urging him to take one of her puckered pink nipples into his mouth. There was a moment of hesitation, and it wasn’t until she felt his large, sharp teeth that she realized why. She breathed out sharply, and he looked up at her, mistaking it for a cry. One look at her face, however, made it clear that she wanted more. With every lick and kiss on her breasts, she felt a brief moment of relief before the desire she’d already felt intensified. It was the most pleasurable torture she’d ever experienced. He alternated between expertly moving his fingers over his nipples and licking and sucking on them. The way his tongue caressed her made her entire body shudder as she felt like she might burst at any moment. The heat of passion raging inside her dropped to the very pit of her stomach before she felt it burst between her thighs, her wet arousal trickling down her thighs.
“Oh, fuck! ” she cried, her eyes shooting wide open and nails digging into him.
She breathed heavily and looked at him in shock, unable to believe he’d already managed to bring her to orgasm. If he could pull that off with just this much, she could not even imagine what it would be like once they finally went all the way.
“I hope that was cursing out of pleasure and not the opposite.”
“Oh, believe me, it was a complete and utter pleasure.”
“I’ve barely touched you,” he murmured.
“Touch me more,” she purred.
And he did exactly that. She felt his hands continue their exploration of her body as he moved them down to her thighs, which were now sticky with her arousal. He grazed the inside with the tips of his fingers, and she trembled, her mouth pressed into a thin line. The anticipation of being touched at her very center had never been this high in her life. He slowly tickled the inside of her thighs, moving upward until she finally felt his touch over the soaked fabric of her panties. She moaned in a way that begged him to do more, to provide her some relief from the raging libido he’d so expertly incited in her.
He traced circles over her drenched panties, teasing and testing her. She gripped his shoulders tightly and whined, moving her hips forward so that she pushed against his hand. He pulled her panties to the side and ran over the length of her opening just once, making her moan loudly and shake in his arms.
“Please,” she whined, her voice weak from the overwhelming need she felt with every fiber of her being.
Instead, he drew his hand away from her. She made sounds of protest, which he silenced with a deep kiss. This time when she ran her tongue over his large teeth, he did no recoil. Instead, he gripped her panties tightly and ripped them clean off her. She broke away from the kiss with surprise just as he tossed the ripped cloth aside. He looked deep into her eyes, and she felt his hand press against her center. She moaned. With his other hand, he held her chin to keep her looking directly at him. He wanted eye contact at the moment her finally plunged one of his fingers inside her. Her body quivered, and she cried out with pleasure, but it was the way he looked at her as it happened that had the greatest effect on her. That feeling of her belonging to him and being inside him, returned just like when he tasted her blood. It was that sensation of them being bonded.
He plunged a second finger inside her and expertly worked them as she moved her hips up and down on his hand. He was skillful in what he was doing, a master of working her from the inside using just his hands. He moved in a rhythm that seemed erratic at first but she soon realized was consistent– and more effective than any other she’d ever been pleasured with. She gripped his shoulder tighter and worked her hips furiously against his hand, pressing her brea
sts into his chest and moaning loudly. She wanted to touch him, grab hold of him, but she was delirious with the way he was working her. Then she felt him press against the most sensitive nub at her center and everything she was feeling paused for a moment before exploding and rushing through her body. She quivered and shook in his arms, barely able to stand as a second, more intense orgasm overtook her. He held her up just as her knees gave way and she buckled.
“Oh,” she gasped out heavily, “Oh… Fuck… Fuck! I’ve never… Oh, fuck, that was incredible.”
He held her until she was strong enough to kiss him back, letting him know she was ready to continue. He kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding over hers allowing her to taste her own blood he'd so greedily drunken earlier at the start of all this. Her heart continued to beat louder than ever, and despite having experienced two orgasms already, Christine ached to feel his erection inside her.
She reached down and undid his pants, swiftly slipping her hand under his briefs and taking hold of the hard shaft. He groaned and bared his teeth, giving Christine a shock. Maybe she should have been scared, perhaps the logical thing would have been to worry about those fangs piercing her as he got carried away by her taste– but that could not be further from what she was actually feeling. Seeing him bare his fangs like that as he groaned in pleasure from her touch made Christine delirious in her desire. If she had not lost all control already, she definitely did right at that moment.
She began to stroke his thick shaft up and down. The skin was silky smooth, and she could feel every vein pumping blood, keeping him erect, and she absolutely loved it. She grazed her thumb over the engorged head, and he groaned louder, his hips beginning to move in a regular rhythm. He started thrusting into her hand, guiding the pace of her pleasuring him. She tightened her grip, and he held her waist tightly, his fangs bared and his eyes hungry as he looked down at Christine's exposed neck and then her breasts. She could feel that he wanted another taste of her. She could tell it was taking everything in him not to plunge his sharp teeth into the side of his neck and drink until he had his fill. And just the same, it was taking everything out of Christine not to drop her head to the side and invite him to feast on her.
The Campus Jock: A College Bad Boy Romance Page 42