A shuddering breath made her whole body quiver. “Is that how it is for you? Why you’re here?”
He’d expected her to resist, to try to pull away her hands and head. Instead, she’d offered him empathy. “I don’t have a conscience when it comes to my pleasure or my needs, Sarah. You needed me. I was amused. A few hours of mutual enjoyment isn’t such a bad trade, is it?”
“Why are you acting this way?” she said, her voice growing gruff, as though she was fighting the urge to cry.
“Because you want more than I can give you.” That was as much of the truth as he could offer her.
“I only asked for help.” This time her voice broke.
The sound nearly made him reconsider his path. Alex tamped down the regret and pity welling up inside him. “You asked me to fuck you, but you want more, don’t you?”
“I already decided I never want to see you again. As nice as I thought you were, I still never want to be reminded of what happened here.”
Alex swallowed, closing his eyes for a second. “Let’s make sure you don’t forget the lesson,” he rasped. Then he thumbed her clit, pressing it hard, following with a flick of his fingernail.
Her bottom jerked, and she gasped. Her shoulders bunched, and she tried to crawl forward from beneath him.
He tightened his hold on the notch of her hip, not letting her budge, and leaned away. With his free hand he continued to torture her clit, while he slid fingers deep inside her. Her cunt was hot and soaked, her lips parting to welcome him inside.
Only he’d already been there. Another opening, one unbreached beyond a little fondling by Nicolas and himself, drew his attention.
At that moment, he realized he might be a little jealous. Was that the real reason he pulled away from the feelings she tugged from him? He’d never been jealous of a lover. They were so easily found, so easily replaced once they bored him or clung too tightly. He wasn’t a promiscuous vamp, but he had lived centuries and had had more lovers than he could count or remember. But he didn’t think he’d ever been jealous before.
Besides, his destiny precluded anything but political matches. Yearning for something he couldn’t have, something he could never be, was a waste of time and a drain on his emotions.
He sensed Sarah would be a huge drain. A colossal disaster. A vulnerable human would have to be made a vampire. Even then his enemies would be so many that she would never be safe.
Political matches wouldn’t require an investment of affection.
So sex was all this could ever be. And only tonight. Whether she thought she was ready for this or not, he had to have her. He bent close, anticipating her shock, and licked the seam bisecting her buttocks.
She dropped to her elbows. Her ragged breaths shook her shoulders and back. Still, she uttered no protest, giving him silent permission to continue.
A wash of possessive lust swept through him, gripping his balls hard, jerking his cock. Anticipation had his own breaths shortening, the muscles of his chest and thighs tightening. He gently dipped a finger into her vagina and withdrew it, then used her silken cream to rim her little puckering hole, circling round and round before pushing slowly inside.
The tight ring of muscle contracted, squeezing him, and his dick jerked again. Sweet Jesus, he could hardly wait to feel its hot clasp.
Although he’d decided to steel himself against her charms, he didn’t want to be cruel. He dropped more moisture from his mouth into her crack and used it to ease another finger inside her.
Her entrance squeezed hard around him, resisting his intrusion. Sarah’s long “uhhhhhn” stretched out as he slowly rotated his fingers to ease the tightness.
“Breathe, love,” he whispered. “Relax.”
She shook her head. Her body quivered. But she didn’t try to pull away.
Alex slipped his free hand beneath her and palmed her pussy, heating it up, massaging it and her clit as he worked his fingers deeper inside.
Finally, he felt the tension ease around him, and he pulled out his fingers, ignoring her sigh of relief before thrusting three fingers quickly inside her ass.
Sarah’s back arched. “God, Alexander…too much!”
“Easy baby,” he crooned. “I haven’t even begun.”
He might have relented if the hand cupping her pussy hadn’t instantly been drenched. Her cunt spasmed, clenching, opening, clenching again. Similarly, her asshole pulsed.
If he’d been the average guy she thought he was, he might have given her time, days perhaps, to ease her into this sort of play. Instead, he withdrew his fingers, ground his palm against her pussy one last time, then transferred the moisture to the latex sheath covering his cock.
He stroked himself up and down, gritting his teeth, squeezing the base of his cock for a moment—a warning to himself not to let go, not until he felt the first sexy convulsions of her body when she came.
And he knew she would, despite the discomfort, and because of the burning pressure he’d exert against her virgin entrance.
He grasped his cock just below the head, placed himself at her back entrance, and flexed his hips.
She jerked forward. He followed, this time gripping her hips before he pressed again. Her breath hitched, and a tight moan gurgled at the back of her throat as he continued to push. At last the ring relented, and he slid just inside.
Her forehead rolled on the cushioned seats, but she held her body perfectly still, as though afraid to jar him. They both struggled to breathe for a long moment.
Then the heat surrounding him, filling him, became too much to resist. Alex flexed, pushing forward, cramming further inside, his jaws grinding together because it felt so damn good. Her ass cinched his cock. He dropped more spit into her crease, brought his cock out and rolled the tip in the moisture before reinserting it gently. This time the resistance was much weaker. He gave her a tentative thrust—shallow, controlled.
Sarah shifted her trembling knees, widening her stance. Because she thought she might crumble at any moment? Or was she bracing for a “flurry”?
“How are you feeling, Sarah?” he asked tightly.
“I burn,” came her small voice.
“Want me to stop?” he asked, without any intention of doing so even if she did say yes. “Am I hurting you?”
“Not…exactly.”
“You feel pressure?”
“Yes.”
“Heat?”
“God, yes,” she sobbed softly.
“Do you want more of me?”
“Please…”
If she’d looked over her shoulder at that moment, she might have grown afraid again. His lips were drawn back in a feral snarl. His body tensed, muscles bulging as he finally let his blood flow through him, pumping him up, readying him to come unglued.
With Sarah braced, he thrust forward, easing deeper, stretching her, filling her until she gulped for air. He pulled back and thrust again, another steady glide. When he came at her a third time, he stroked faster, and then pulsed in and out, increasing the tempo of his thrusts, working his hips in circular motions to stretch her further.
When her back began its sensual arch, he gripped her ass hard and powered into her, pummeling her soft bottom as he moved faster and faster until he hammered her, shoving her forward, shoving her across the pillows until they slid away and she scraped her knees on wood.
Still, he didn’t relent, didn’t slow down. He followed her across the floor, his knees grinding into the planks.
She reached out to grip the edge of a seat and held herself steady for his assault, her body stretching forward, back bowing, her buttocks rippling with his powerful thrusts until she cried out.
When she crumbled toward the floor, he scooped up her hips and continued to hammer. Her ass was hot, tight, burning through the latex as it clamped hard around him, restricting the blood flowing away so that his erection didn’t flag, his orgasm couldn’t explode.
Finally, he pulled out, wrapped his hand around his cock, and mastu
rbated himself, shoving his cock through his fingers, fiercely pumping up and down his shaft. When he came, he shouted, stroking through the explosion that shot cum against the saggy tip of his condom and emptied his balls.
After his release finally waned, he opened his eyes. His knees were splayed, his fist still clutching himself, stroking more gently up and down to draw out the last dying ripples of his orgasm.
Sarah had fallen to the floor of the gazebo and rolled to her side. Her large eyes watched the motion of his hand. Her liquid gaze stared in rapt fascination.
He let go of himself and rested his hands on his thighs while he dragged air into his starving lungs.
When the last deep shudders racking his body eased, he rolled the condom off his dick and tossed it away. Sarah’s gaze remained glued to him. He ringed the base of his cock to keep himself engorged and hard, then lifted his hand toward her.
She placed hers on top of his palm and he pulled her across the floor, pulled her down until her head was even with his cock. Holding her gaze, he lifted his buttocks and speared into her mouth.
Sarah opened automatically, closing her lips around him to suck the crown, mouthing him gently, then sucking hard to draw him inside.
Alex threaded his fingers through her auburn hair and tugged her head closer, forcing more of his length into the warm, moist cavern of her mouth.
Her head jerked backward, but she didn’t release him, didn’t try to deny his silent command. She swirled around the head, licking under the ridge surrounding his glans, dipping the tip of her tongue into the slit at the center. She enclosed him again, sucking hard, drawing him inside. He flexed, shoving along her tongue, stroking toward the back of her throat.
Her jaws widened and she swallowed, the back of her throat clasping him as it opened and closed, caressing him, opening again until she took him deeper still and bobbed her head on him, following the tug of the fingers tightening in her hair.
She murmured and groaned as though she couldn’t get her fill, couldn’t take him deep enough. She planted her hands on his thighs and slid one up to cup his balls, rolling them in her palm, wrapping her fingers around them to squeeze and pull with just enough force that he no longer needed to hold his cock.
Blood pooled again between his legs, strengthening his erection, filling it, stretching it until her mouth couldn’t hold all of him without her teeth raking his shaft. He didn’t care, couldn’t stop spearing into her, bucking against her as she caressed his balls and sucked him hard.
Her groans swelled around his cock, vibrating against the crown, trembling down the shaft, and he had to pull away, had to bury himself inside her again.
Fighting the hands reaching for his cock, pushing her face away, he turned her body and plunged into her hot cunt, bucking hard, ramming deep, glorying in her ragged howls as he pumped his cock into her tight pussy, faster, harder—harder, sharper, following her when her knees gave out and her body flattened on the floor.
He shoved apart her thighs to root as deep as he could reach, her buttocks cushioning his belly and his balls raking painfully against the floor.
Alex squeezed her buttocks, pushing them apart, trying to get deeper, needing to tunnel until he tapped her womb, and then he exploded, cum gushing until he wallowed in her dripping cunt, stroking, thrusting still.
“Stop,” she sobbed. “No more.”
Alex’s balls contracted at the misery in her voice. He halted his motions, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave her. He lay over her, crushing her to the hard floor, burying his face at the back of her sweaty neck as his body spasmed and his cock twitched inside her.
He’d never been so out of control. Never wanted to punish, to mark a woman with his scent and fluids. Like a goddamn dog. He’d been a rutting, mindless animal.
Where was the guilt? Why didn’t he feel remorse as she shook beneath him? Instead, all he felt was satisfaction—bone-deep, primal satisfaction. As though he’d claimed her for his own. Never would another man touch her without sensing he trespassed.
Which was nuts. He wouldn’t keep her. Couldn’t let her be a part of his life. Even if she wanted to, begged him to let her stay—which wasn’t likely now.
He licked the back of her neck, drank in the scent of her—peaches and sex—and felt his fangs slide from the roof of his mouth. He could taste her and she’d never know, never remember.
He could do that. A special talent only he possessed. He could wipe the whole evening from her mind. He could give her peace.
Only then she wouldn’t learn the lesson. Wouldn’t remember him. He was selfish enough to want to be part of her dreams for a long, long time. So he concentrated only on robbing the memory of this last, furtive bite and raked the razor edge of his teeth along her neck, seeking the pulse hammering against the shallow vein.
He bit harshly, sinking quickly, loving the way her body tightened beneath him, her cunt clamping on his dick as he began to draw, sucking her essence down like it was nectar.
Hot, salty-sweet and metallic—the flavors coated his tongue while her blood slid down his throat to warm his belly, slowly seeping outward to fill his body with a powerful, lustful surge of pure energy.
Her thin cries filled the air around him as another, last orgasm swept through her body. Then suddenly she slackened beneath him.
He withdrew his fangs, licked closed the wounds, and slowly climbed off her unconscious body, surveying what he’d done. She lay spread-eagled on the hard floor. Her fingers curled into the wood.
He found his shirt and used the tails to wipe cum and streaks of pink from between her thighs, then he dressed himself and gathered her clothes. He approached her cautiously, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder.
“Sarah,” he said quietly.
She moaned and rolled her head, pressing her forehead to the floor. “No more,” she repeated.
“Help me get you dressed.”
Her arms slid closer to her body and she raised herself up on her elbows, turning her head to look over her shoulder, her gaze not meeting his eyes. “I want to go home,” she said, her voice hoarse and ragged.
“Get dressed. I’ll find you a ride.”
He left her alone in the gazebo, his steps heavy while she stayed behind, shrugging into her crumpled clothing like an old woman. At the front of the house, he sought one of half a dozen black limos lined up in a row along the pebbled, circular driveway; he arranged her transportation, then headed back into the garden. He found her sitting on the bench once again, her jacket zipped to her neck, her body hunched over.
He knelt beside her feet and cupped her cheek. “Time to go, love.”
Her gaze seemed hollow, listless. Her mouth was swollen from kisses and the damage her own teeth had done as she’d bitten down to still her cries. Her face was mottled, as though she’d been crying.
He’d done that. Nicolas hadn’t touched her deeply. He’d used her body, fed from her, but he hadn’t broken her spirit. Alex had done it for her own good—to keep her out of reach of the demon, to keep her out of reach of those who would tempt her curiosity, then drain her of will and spirit.
She wouldn’t forget the lesson. He hoped like hell she’d never seek entrance into the dark realm again.
CHAPTER 8
Nicolas Montfaucon drummed his fingers on the polished ebony table, trying to ignore the stares from the rest of the council ringing the round table. While he hadn’t expected a warm and friendly welcome, he’d thought the sabat had at least received a little forewarning that he’d joined their ranks.
For whatever reason, Inanna hadn’t bothered to tell anyone she’d unilaterally decided he would take Chessa’s reserved seat.
Not that Nicolas worried too much about his reception, or that the females around him would reject his new status. Not while the grounds were surrounded by his men. The unleashed rogues he’d recruited to force his way onto the council were crawling over the estate, working side by side with the turned vampires who’d never brok
en their masters’ tethers.
His men had made sure they didn’t blend well. They didn’t wear the black SWAT uniforms of the Security Force, choosing instead to emphasize their individuality. A mixed bag of army camouflage, blue jeans, and Kevlar had to be jarring to the women who liked everything and everyone to be in their place and tidy.
Controlled, bridled…subservient to the rule of the women who’d created them.
Nicolas had shielded his plans from the coven’s matriarch, Inanna, who had shared his siring with his wife, not realizing that the blood-bond would be diluted and his love and loyalty would be his own to give where he chose. For long centuries he’d bided his time, learning everything he could about the dark world he’d entered, trying to find his place. Trying to discover the purpose God had given him when he’d offered him the gift of eternity while destroying the family he’d cherished.
One vow had remained unbroken, almost from the beginning of his Undead existence: his promise to avenge his brother’s and wife’s loss by ensuring that their murderer, an ancient beast called The Devourer, never roamed free. Nicolas had watched over his sarcophagus since the day the monster had ravaged his wife and stolen his brother’s body—until The Storm had interceded and swept the beast to freedom.
Now more than ever, Inanna needed his help to recapture the beast. With his ability to skip bodies upon the death of his host, Nicolas could only wait for the bastard to grow cocky and make a mistake. One thing they all knew: The Devourer hadn’t left the area and was likely to infiltrate Ardeal. He had a score to settle with his ancient foe, Inanna.
Nicolas observed Inanna sitting among her council—not quite her peers, because she was their matriarch and related to most of them. They’d called her Grandmère when they’d greeted her with kisses that hadn’t quite touched her cheeks. Once the niceties had been dispensed with, they’d stood on one side of the room waiting for the signal that the meeting would begin, while Inanna had stood with him, her hand tucked inside his elbow. The women had eyed him suspiciously, probably wondering whether she’d elevated a paramour to wait on her during the session.
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