Expiez: Redeem Your Blood Lust

by C. D. Hussey

  "Fuuuuck."

  Which was exactly what she encouraged him to do—using the sides of his hips like handles, she pushed him out, then coaxed him back in so that he was effectively fucking her mouth. Slow and gentle enough he could feel every delicious inch of her amazing, gag-free throat.

  Her legs fell open, exposing the wet, glistening pink of her sex. He wished his platform bed was lower to the ground. On his knees he could probably reach her swollen clit and his tongue could taste her delicious honey.

  Between watching his dick slide in and out of her mouth, the temptation of her glorious sex just beyond his reach, and the sexy mewling noises she was making, he was about to lose his ever-loving mind. It was all he could do to control his hips, careful not to thrust too fast or hard or deep, even though she seemed quite skilled at deep throating.

  "I'm going to come, Clare," he said it as a warning, ready to pull out and finish on her perfect breasts. As much as he'd love to come in her mouth, he felt like it would be too intrusive. But as he started to pull back, she gripped his ass hard and pulled him all the way in until his pubic bone was pressed against her lips.

  His orgasm immediately released, pumping cum deep into her throat. She held him in place the entire time, and it wasn't until the last shudder of his orgasm subsided that she released him. When he was free from her mouth she smiled.

  "You have the best cock," she said.

  "I do what I can." He bent and kissed her. With her head still upside down, the sensation of her mouth felt foreign, exotic. "That was the most amazing blow-job I have ever received," he told her, the taste of her kiss still lingering on his tongue.

  "I do what I can," she repeated his words. Rolling over, she propped herself up on her elbows. "Now what do you want to do?"

  "Reciprocate." With a grin he flipped her back over. She squealed in surprise as he grabbed her leg and spun her around until her ass was at the edge of the bed. Tossing each of her legs over his shoulders, he slid his hands under her ass and lifted her up like she was a platter.

  Which was the perfect analogy, because he had every intention of devouring her.

  * * * *

  When Darus' mouth covered her sex without hesitation and without holding back, his tongue running around, over, across, tasting every drop, every inch of her flesh, it took her breath away. Crossing her ankles behind his neck she brought him closer.

  He moaned into her flesh, pulling her clit into his mouth and sucking hard. Her hips bucked against him as he teased her clit with a few rapid flicks of his tongue. He released the flesh momentarily, only to pull it into his mouth again. Suck, tease, release, repeat—occasionally dip into her depths for a taste. He was sucking her clit like one might suck a dick. And it felt amazing. And was going to make her come fast and hard.

  And now.

  Using her ankles to lock his mouth to her, she pushed her hips against him while he continued the sucking action, riding the waves of the orgasm until her legs trembled, and the last contraction made her shudder and then abruptly turn into a pool of gooeyness.

  After easing her ass to the bed, he ducked under her useless, dangling legs, and rose, swiftly kicking off his shoes and sliding his pants down his hips and jumping out of them.

  "That was the most amazing blow-job I've ever received," she murmured, the words slurring from her jelly mouth.

  His hands grasping the back of his shirt, he grinned. "I do what I can," he said and yanked the shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor.

  His body was magnificent. Lean, but all ripped muscle with bulges in all the right places and canyons and divots in even better places. He had those spectacular "V" ab muscles Brad Pitt had so famously made women and men hard with in Fight Club. They were like an arrow pointing straight to his cock, which shockingly, was hard again.

  "How do you keep blood in your brain?" she asked as he retrieved a condom from the nightstand.

  "I don't. Why do you think I'm such a prick?"

  "I just figured it was because of the giant prick swinging between your legs. Aptly described and all."

  "It does take over from time to time."

  "I told you I'm on the pill," she said as he rolled the condom on.

  He didn't stop rolling. "You really want that cum in your hair don't you?"

  "Maaaybe."

  He linked his elbows under her knees, pushing them toward her shoulders and spreading her legs wide. "Next time. If I don't put a condom on, I'll come the second I'm inside you."

  "I look forward to—" She couldn't finish the sentence. He slid inside her and all she could do was moan. He felt so fucking good. It was like his cock knew how to excite every nerve in her body. Even though she was post-orgasm useless, he still managed to arouse her.

  She closed her eyes and let the sensation of his body above her, around her, in her, overwhelm her. She just wanted to disappear inside the moment, into the emotion he stirred within her. She didn't know she could feel excited, relaxed, stimulated, comfortable, and so fucking happy all at once.

  He broke her trance by kissing her. But she welcomed his demanding tongue, the rough tease of his teeth on her bottom lip. His elbows propped on the bed beside her, he suddenly pulled back, taking her face in her hands. His gaze locked on hers. She could only open her lips and pant. His brow furrowed as he seemed to take in her face, his hips never losing their rhythm. And then he closed his eyes, his expression becoming pained. He kissed her one more time before he thrust his cock deep inside her and his body went rigid.

  She watched him come. He was truly beautiful, pleasure making his face ethereal. She reached up and touched his cheek, and then ran her hand up the side of his face and laced her fingers in the gelled locks of his Mohawk. When he finally opened his eyes, she lifted her head and kissed his full lips softly, keeping her gaze locked on his.

  "Gorgeous," she whispered.

  His smile looked uncomfortable. "Speak for yourself."

  "I thought I was."

  He laughed and eased from her. After sliding the condom off and tossing it into the trash, he scooped her legs up and righted her on the bed, climbing over her and occupying the empty space beside her.

  The left side of her body pressed against the right side of his, she glanced over at him. His head was propped up on his forearm, his gaze locked on the ceiling. With a smile, she found the fingers of his free hand, lacing hers around and through them.

  They lay there for a while, hand in hand, staring at the decorative tin panels lining the ceiling. She was happy just to touch him, to feel his skin against hers. She felt so…content.

  Unfortunately, he had to shatter it.

  "What do I have to do to be with you?" he asked suddenly.

  "I think you just accomplished that task."

  "No. I mean really be with you."

  "Well, I'm free on Tuesdays and maybe Thursdays. I'm sure we can work out a schedule for the weekends. Alternating weeks and holidays…"

  "Really be with you. In the, 'we're together' sense."

  She turned to stare at him. "You're kidding right?"

  "Not at all."

  She snorted playfully. "That's just the post-coital bliss talking. We both know what this was. Fun? Yes. Serious? No. I knew what I was getting into when I came here. Neither of us are actors in the Taming of the Mancock."

  "The what?"

  "You know, the Taming of the Mancock. The less popular Shakespeare play. The one where the Mancock can only be tamed by a pure and virginal shrew."

  "Speak for your own Mancock. I'm not into pure, virginal, or shrew. Besides, my Mancock should be conquered, not tamed."

  "Please," she said teasingly. "I doubt yours is a hard cock to conquer."

  "Not for you."

  She sat up and kicked her legs over the edge of the bed. "Well, I had a fabulous time, but—"

  He grabbed her arm as she started to rise. His grip was firm but gentle. "I'm serious, Clare."

  She studied his face. There was no
hint of smugness, no joking gleam in his beautiful gray eyes, only sincerity. She slowly lowered back to the bed. "Oh."

  He took her hand, lightly caressing the soft joining of her thumb and forefinger. "You are the most amazing woman I have ever met. In every way possible. The way I feel when I'm with you…like I want to be…good. For you."

  His gaze was fixated on her hand and she saw him give a reluctant smile. All the while her brows knitted tighter and tighter together. He had to be razzing her. Had to be.

  "Because that's what you deserve," he continued, his gray eyes flicking up to meet hers. "So, what would it take? What would I have to do?"

  Her mouth flopped open but nothing escaped. Jesus. What the hell did she say to that? "Darus, I like you. I really do. But I can't be in a relationship right now. I don't want to be. Not now. I just got free."

  "From an abuser…"

  "True, but it's so much more than that. I mean, I like this newfound freedom. I get to do what I want, who I want, whenever I want."

  His eyes darkened. "Ah. I see. You just want to fuck other men."

  In that moment, he sounded exactly like Chris.

  She snatched her hand away and scrambled to her feet. Her heart was suddenly thundering 100 mph, the blood roaring through her veins with enough velocity it made her body shake.

  "I'm out of here." Scooping her clothes from the floor, she made a rush for the door, haphazardly redressing as she went. She hoped to have all of her clothes on by the time she made it to the sidewalk, but if she didn't, oh well.

  "Clare, wait. I didn't mean—"

  "Like hell you didn't." Her bra dangling off one arm, she had one leg in her skirt and jumped awkwardly as she tried to stuff the other one in. "And so what if that was what I wanted? I think I've earned to right. I think I paid my dues to have a little fling here and there. I fucked you, didn't I?"

  "Is that all this was?" Two steps behind, he didn't seem as concerned as she was with clothing. His stomach rippled as he walked, his large cock swinging like a pendulum. "I'm just your little rebound fling."

  "What were you expecting? You fingered and then fucked me in a bar!"

  "And I'd do it again, even if you were my girlfriend, shit, even my wife. It was fucking hot and you know it. Kinky, dirty, sexy, hot."

  "Yeah, well, I don't do possessive." The buttons on her skirt were proving troublesome. She decided to leave them for now and concentrate on stuffing her feet into her shoes.

  "Is it somehow wrong to want you to myself?"

  "Yes." She spun to face him, one boot half on, the other dangling from her fingertips. "This is what possessive gets you." She gestured toward her lip, the boot swishing in front of her. "That is what possessive gets you." The boot swung dangerously close to his face as she pointed to his bruised eye. "And I don't want any part of it. Ever again." She turned back to the door, fumbling with the door handle, boot still dangling in her hand.

  "Clare."

  "Piss off." No matter how hard she twisted and pulled, the door refused to budge.

  "Clare."

  "Seriously. I'm done." Tears were beginning to well up in her eyes, heat rising from her stomach, up her chest, and settling in her face.

  The walls were closing in. Closer and closer they inched, ready to extinguish what little fire she'd regained since leaving Chris, ready to trap her spirit between plaster walls. Her chest felt tight, squeezing her heart as the walls were threatening to squeeze her. She had to get out of there. She couldn't be trapped in this house for a second longer and yanked desperately on the doorknob.

  When Darus reached around her she unconsciously flinched, a sob catching in her throat. He flicked a latch at the top and the door flung open. The minute the night air hit her skin she bolted.

  * * * *

  "I'm sorry," Darus muttered as Clare fled down the street, hobbling on her half-shod feet. He would have happily given chase, but knew that was the last thing she wanted or needed. Instead he stood in the open doorway and watched her until she disappeared from view, wishing he could see her safely back to Armand's and knowing that was exactly what she didn't want.

  "Yowza!"

  "Damn!"

  Two girls walking past his house looked him up and down appreciatively. That's right. He was buck-naked.

  "See something you like?"

  "Yes."

  "You and your large friend can come party with us."

  "Another time perhaps."

  "If you change your mind," one said over her shoulder. "Don't bother putting on pants. You won't need them."

  Giggles followed them down the street.

  He should probably go inside before someone not as appreciative of his cock passed by and he got arrested.

  After throwing on a pair of workout pants and grabbing a bottle, he flopped on the couch and clicked on the TV. He didn't care what was on, he just wanted the company. If that meant watching...Bridget Jones's Diary? So be it.

  Why the fuck did he have to open his mouth? And why the fuck couldn't he seem to control what came out of it?

  Clare didn't need his petty jealousy. Especially not now. What was he thinking? By springing the "mine" bullshit on her, he'd not only ruined the best night of his life, but he'd completely freaked her out. She'd been like a panicked animal trapped in a snare and ready to chew off her own limbs to escape.

  And he'd caused it. Just him. No one else. He couldn't remember a time he hated himself more. Maybe after learning Eve was dead...

  He took a swig of gin. It was horrid but he immediately took another anyway. He wasn't even a jealous person, that's what was really screwy. Not normally. In fact, he couldn't remember a time when he'd come close to resembling any shade of green, not even one more closely associated with a sour stomach. But when Clare mentioned being with other men, he'd turned into Kermit the fucking Frog.

  He should have told her he'd wait. He should have told her he could be patient, and anything she needed he supported. Even if he didn't like it, that's what he should have said. It's what she deserved.

  Well, it didn't matter now. He'd royally screwed every pooch on the block. Just like he always did.

  Chapter Nine

  Clare was having a heart attack. She was sure of it. Her sternum had detached from her ribs and was preparing to turn her heart into mush. At least that's what it felt like.

  She hobble-ran all the way back to Luxure, which wasn't too far, but was far enough it felt like it took an eternity to get there. She didn't pause when she finally reached the courtyard gate, punching the code into the lock and flinging it open like a serial killer was after her. Salvation was just across the bricks, up a couple flights of stairs, and under a plush down comforter.

  Unfortunately, Julia and Armand were cozied up on the outdoor couch, flames roaring in the fire pit before them.

  She tried to square up her posture and look normal—and failed. Maybe she looked normal for a zombie but that wasn't going to cut it here.

  Julia sat forward, removing herself from the cozy looking nook of Armand's arm. "Clare? Are you all right?"

  "Fine. Perfect." It was a miserable attempt and the words came out with a waiver.

  Julia jumped up and took her arm. "C'mon." She tugged gently. "Let's go make some tea."

  "Tea?"

  "It's herbal and calming."

  "Herbal tea? What has Armand done to you?" But with her shaking body, the calming part sounded awesome.

  The feeling of having a heart attack didn't begin to subside until Julia was pouring her a steaming cup. She waited until Clare had taken a drink before asking, "Okay. What happened?"

  Given Julia's hatred of Darus, she wasn't sure how detailed she should get. She sure as hell wasn't going to mention him by name. "I hooked up with this guy and it was going fine until..." She shook her head. "I just freaked out. I felt trapped and panicky and…well…you know the rest."

  "Until what? What did he do?"

  "Nothing really."

  Julia's e
xpression told her she wasn't buying it. "You can't leave me in the dark here, Clare. It isn't fair. First Chris and now this? Remember how you felt when I wouldn't tell you what happened when I met Armand? Why would you do that to me?"

  Because you're such a judgy judger.

  "I know. I'm sorry." She took a deep breath. "He got a little jealous, that's all. But it felt like Chris all over again and I couldn't deal with it. Obviously."

  Julia mouth became a hard, thin line. "We're talking about Darus aren't we?"

  "Yes."

  "Oh my God, Clare! How—Why would you hook up with him? After everything he's done. After Chris… Jesus, it's Darus! You coming home in tears is the only way it could ever end."

  "For the record, he didn't actually do anything that bad."

  "Are you kidding? Have you looked in the mirror?"

  "I get how you feel about Darus. I really do. But the truth is, he's not the big bad wolf you think he is."

  Julia's sigh was so loud it filled the entire room. "He killed a girl…"

  "I know. I get it. It doesn't matter anyway. I'm done with him. I don't do jealous."

  "I can't believe you did it in the first place."

  For some reason, Julia's open hatred of a man Clare had just spent a few fabulous hours with ticked her off. "I'm not going to defend who I fuck to you. Okay? I'm a big girl, and if I want to suck Satan's dick on the corner of Bourbon and Toulouse that's my business. And I don't need you to lecture me about it later."

  She found herself stomping toward the stairs. She was tired of everyone in her business, telling her what to do, trying to control her.

  "Clare…"

  "Forget it Julia. I have." Just to make a point, she snapped the stairwell door shut just a little too loudly. This was one night she wanted to be left alone.