by Kat Catesby
My mind trips over how blasé he’s being, considering how reluctant he’s been to share with me up to now.
My voice has vacated the premises, so I just nod.
“Say something, Emilia,” he urges.
I have no idea what to say. What would anyone say? At least this finally explains why a woman would want Rohypnol for her first time…her first time being bitten.
“Say what, exactly? I have no sphere of reference for this…bombshell. Should I ask if you plan to eat me?” It’s a stupid question, but I ask it in lieu of any other intelligent question.
But I already know the answer: Jackson Smoak has had ample opportunity to hurt me if that was his intention. The only ferocity he’s shown toward me was the epic fuck – and despite it all, it really was epic. Aside from that, he’s been nothing but courteous and dare I say it, tender with me.
“I’ve already eaten you, Emilia, and I’m dying to taste that delectable pussy again,” he murmurs wickedly.
His words make my clit throb longingly.
No.
I will not be side-tracked by the man who’s just confessed to needing blood to survive. What rational woman would let herself be led astray at this point?
I wrap my arms tightly around myself, shielding my nakedness and fighting the nauseous feeling inside my stomach. I fight to stay in control and concentrate hard to come up with my next question.
“As you mentioned dying, what is your position on that? Do you have a heart? Are you immortal? Dead already?” I try to stop the climbing pitch of my voice as my mind runs away with Hollywood horror stories.
“Breathe, Emilia. You know I have a heart; you felt it beat violently enough for you. And I’m not dead. Far from it. I feel very much alive…even if you did just crush my fragile feelings by pushing me away,” he teases.
Honestly, does he have no comprehension of the gravity of what he’s saying?
“This is not the time to be teasing me, Jackson. You are changing the very fabric of my understanding of the world around me. You can’t just flip my rational little world on its head and laugh about it like it’s some great joke.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, looking suitably contrite. “It’s just you seem to be taking it well. It’s not unusual for there to be fear, tears, and fainting. But you’re just sitting there – albeit as far away from me as possible. You haven’t even tried to reach your clothes or the bed sheet to cover yourself up; you’re gloriously naked and asking somewhat reasonable questions. So, in answer; I am not dead, I have a heartbeat, I need blood to survive and I guess I’m what you’d call immortal; I’ve been around for a long-ass time. Oh, and in case you missed it…I can go outside in daylight.”
I try to process this; it helps that I feel completely numb. Like an observer watching my life unfold from a safe distance instead of actually living it.
“So, sex for blood? Sonya was feeding you?” I’m repulsed by the idea that part of her is in Jackson; that he went to her for his survival needs.
“Vampires, and I use the term loosely as we don’t particularly like being called that, are in the moment creatures. We feel every emotion intensely – it can be very overwhelming at times – and yes, we do feel and experience the same emotions as ‘normal’ people. This means that we feel our hurt and anger more violently, but equally our feelings for lust and love are exceptionally powerful; we are skilled in experiencing and giving ultimate pleasure. It also helps that we are more endowed and have extra stamina than ‘regular’ men,” his eyes smolder, a reminder of my first-hand knowledge of exactly how skilled he is in that department…and I suspect what we shared is just the frantic tip of the iceberg.
“We are the greatest lovers on the planet, Emilia. Women who know of our existence happily trade their blood for a mind-blowing fuck. I don’t think of it as pimping myself out, as we tend to get the better end of the deal; we get fed and our raging, primal desires get sated. Maybe it’s something to do with the fact that we live off the life force of others, or maybe we’re just more in tune with our base instincts, but make no mistake, sweetheart, we are deeply passionate creatures with consuming carnal urges. It’s a strength we play to our advantage.”
Wow.
For a second that’s all my brain can think.
“Be that as it is, why were you doing that arrangement with Sonya? Why were you willing to do that with her after you intended to see me? If I hadn’t overslept, I’d have left here and you’d have fucked her without a backward glance. How can you think that’s okay?”
“The longest we can go between feeds is about a week; I was on day eight. My options were either you or Sonya. I already had an arrangement in place with Sonya, but I was hoping that if we had the chance to talk then maybe I wouldn’t need her services. But then you stood me up. I didn’t think you were coming and were it not for the fact that I needed to feed, I’d have gone looking for you. Instead, I left myself with no option; I had to follow through on my arrangement with Sonya. I know none of this makes me look good, but I’m not a complete asshole. I promise.”
Maybe I’m crazy, but his explanation makes sense…as much sense as any of this can. I let my curiosity lead my next question.
“Show me?”
“I thought I already did…,” he winks.
“Not that,” I shift uncomfortably at what I’m about to say, “Your fangs?”
He laughs loudly and the deep sound shatters the relative quiet of his room.
“I don’t have fangs, sweetheart, just deceptively sharp teeth and a powerful jaw. Not that I need to clamp down hard very often – unless I’m asked,” he winks again. “The other advantage of feeding during sex is that in the heat of arousal, the increased heart rate pumps blood faster around the body, meaning I don’t have to suck that hard. And if I’m doing it right her body will be seriously hot and therefore her cardiovascular system will working to cool her by pumping the blood closer to the surface, meaning I don’t have to bite as deep.”
Oh.
“Not only that, but the bite itself isn’t painful. Well, not so painful it’s unbearable. More like, it’s the right sort of pain that in the right moment can be pleasurable.”
I look skeptically at him.
“I mean it. With the right amount of pressure, in all the right places, it can be pretty erotic. It pushed Sonya over the edge…,” he trails off, seeing my thunderous expression. I really don’t want to be reminded of her anymore.
“Do you need to be fed?” he looks confused by my blunt question.
“No, I’m full. I probably won’t want to feed for a good few days,” he answers warily.
“Good,” I snap, “Then we are moving on from the Sonya/feeding topic. Bring it up again at your peril,” I warn, fully aware that ‘peril’ is an empty threat.
“Yes ma’am,” his silky voice derails my thought processes.
“Stop it. It’s not fair to distract me with your sexpertise. And if you keep doing it then I’ll go home. Pass me my underwear.”
“Okay, that’s fair. I’m sorry. I don’t always realize I’m doing it. It’s just so easy with you; we’ve always been exceptionally attracted to each other. And your panties are still damp.”
“Then pass me your underwear, please – I can’t be naked around you when you say things like ‘we’ve always been exceptionally attracted to each other’.”
“Why not?” He asks, but still stands to retrieve a new pair of boxers for me, my previous pair are in total tatters at my feet.
“It raises more questions than it answers because five days of attraction is too short to be referred to as ‘always’.”
Jackson moves towards me with the fresh pair of boxers, still deliciously naked, giving me a more than generous view of his more than generous package. He’s only semi-hard, but my pussy clenches with want at the thought that all of him was in me. I’m amazed he fit and that it didn’t hurt, given the size and girth of him, but it didn’t; it was full and tight and the fricti
on so sweet…I involuntarily press my thighs together.
“What are you thinking?” He stops at my feet, kneels down in front of me and hands me the boxers, his eyes glinting with desire; he knows what he’s doing and he’s doing it on purpose.
“You’re doing it again, you’re distracting me,” I say far too quietly, losing all conviction, yet again. When he looks at me with that much heat my blood sings in response.
My hand fists the briefs he’s just given me as he delicately trails his fingers up both of my legs starting from my ankles.
“Good distraction?” his voice is temptation itself. His fingers dance across my knees in a gentle caress, his eyes are burning and intense, commanding me to answer.
“Y-Yes,” I stutter, letting my breath out in a rush.
All reason has fled the vicinity; I know what he’s just told me is pretty fucking serious, I know I have a million more questions that need answering, but his proximity halts all rational thought. I don’t know which way is up or down, nothing exists but him…his sumptuous mouth, his dancing eyes and the silken touch of his hands grabbing my knees and firmly pulling my legs apart…exposing me to him.
He breathes in sharply, his eyes dilating at the sight of me bared to him.
Despite the recent onset of my social ineptness, I was popular before college and I’m not inexperienced; I’m aware of my body and what it responds to and fuck me, it responds to Jackson Smoak. I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t already on fire for him.
From a tiny, remote part of my mind, a small voice finds the courage to speak up and demands that I stand my ground. I want answers before I succumb to Jackson’s charms again (I’m not so foolish enough to believe I can withstand his sensuous onslaught for long…I’m apparently a lost cause when it comes to this man).
“Bad distraction; you just want your way with me and all I want is answers,” I whisper.
“All you want is answers? I find that very hard to believe, Emilia,” he trails his fingers from my knees up to my inner thighs and I shudder at the tickling sensation, desire pooling sweetly between my legs.
Jackson wraps his firm hands around the back of my thighs and pulls me towards him so that I’m lying on the floor, his large body hovering over mine. He settles between my legs; his now rock-hard erection brushing against the wildly sensitive flesh of my slick, aching pussy.
Jackson crashes his lips to mine, kissing me urgently, his hand stroking my face and then grabbing my chin to open my mouth wider, giving him access to deepen the kiss with his artfully skilled tongue. It licks and probes and dances the most exquisite dance with mine until I am gasping for air…
…Until I’m gasping for him.
“Tell me all you want from me is answers,” he growls against my desire swollen lips. The noise is pure sex and I have no hope of denying him. My need surges through every vein, every synapse, and every nerve, propelling me toward him like a dazzled moth to a too-bright flame, unable to see the danger that lurks…the danger I’m willing to overlook.
“No, it’s not.” I know what I want and I show him by wiggling my hips up to meet his, closing the distance between us so that he begins to slide effortlessly into my wetness. He stretches me beautifully, the weight of his body encasing me in his heat and the blissful friction of feeling his bare chest rubbing against my nipples have me forgetting my own name.
Now that Jackson has explained why he was with Sonya – I get it, but I don’t love it – my earlier frustrations evaporate into nonexistence and all I want is to feel him inside me again. Now.
Jackson digs his fingers into my hip and holds me still so that I’m unable to envelop anymore of his delicious cock into my aching pussy, leaving just the tip of him inside me. I groan in protest; I need to feel all of him…
“Stop,” he gasps. “I’m not dressed for what you have in mind, sweetheart.”
Shit. Condom.
“I have a clean bill of health, but I need to know the same from you and if you’re on birth control?” his jaw strains from restraining himself.
“You’re all clear?” I’m slightly panicked that my brazen demand for him did not take this into account, especially given what I saw earlier…
Don’t think about it.
“Yes. I was checked out last week and I never have unprotected sex with my Donors.”
“Donors?”
“You’ve made it clear that I easily distract you, but can you answer my question, then I’ll answer yours; being on the edge like this is killing me.”
“I’m all clear. I was checked out before the semester started and you’re my first sexual encounter since…well…let’s just say I’ve been too shy.”
“Says the gloriously naked vixen who’s seducing me with the mesmerizing gyration of her hips,” he arches his brow wryly at me.
Okay, so, I can’t keep myself still while he’s so tantalizingly close to where I want him, yet the remaining inches feel agonizingly far. I wriggle again, blushing at the thought that Jackson thinks I’m a vixen…not a word I’ve ever associated with myself, if I’m honest, but if he thinks so, who am I to argue?
“But are you deliberately making me crazy?” he continues. “Are you going to tell me if you’re on birth control? As gifted as I am at reading people, I’m not actually psychic,” His eyes burn into mine, his lips brushing across my jaw as he flexes his hips ever so slightly, giving me just a fraction more of him, causing me to lose the ability to think.
“Yes,” I gasp, craving more.
Jackson stills again, waiting impatiently for my answer.
“I am, I am,” I manage and it’s a desperate plea.
He responds immediately.
His fingers grip my hips like a vice, holding me firm as his sculpted abdominal muscles clench with the effort of his swift, powerful thrust into me.
This is my undoing.
I scream Jackson’s name as he slams against my sweet spot, over and over, filling me to just the right side of painful and sending pre-orgasmic shivers up and down my spine. I feel electric, desire crackling through every nerve ending, completely lost in his possession of me.
Jackson keeps his cock buried deep in my needy cunt, but flexes his hips, grinding gently against me and I call out loudly again, unashamed to be heard.
I knot my fingers in his silken hair, pulling on the strands until his lush mouth meets mine and he devours me. More. My body screams for more so I tilt my hips up to meet the sweet torture of his expert thrusts. His magnificent dick impales me, making me see stars. I hook my ankles behind his back to keep him deep, the friction of such fullness obliterating everything in the room except for the feel of his body on mine, his pulsing cock inside me, and the erotic growl of his voice betraying his need for me.
“Christ, Emilia, I thought you wanted answers,” he murmurs against my jaw as he moves his delicious lips to my throat and trails skin-tingling kisses down my neck.
The only answer I can manage is to claw my nails across his thickly muscled shoulders for leverage as I buck as hard as I can in rhythm to his sensuous grinding. This is the only way I can convey the word harder without using my mouth that’s hoarse from gasping his name.
Jackson gets the message and slowly pulls out of me, dragging his tip across the nerve cluster of my g-spot and leaving a painful hollow in the wake of his unyielding magnitude. My eyes widen involuntarily in alarm; I can’t bear the emptiness, the void he’s created, the void I worry only he can fill…which is madness.
My fear is short-lived as he slams back into me.
Hard.
Obliterating any and all thoughts once again as he claims me.
I’m so wet for him, but not even this dulls the friction created by his girth and my tightness; a perfect, mesmerizing, all-consuming sensation deep, deep inside me.
My body shudders around him, heightening the iron-hard feeling of him mercilessly invading my soft, swollen flesh. My climax begins to build fierce and hot as he pounds into me again and then a
bruptly stills.
“No, sweetheart. Not yet,” he purrs, his breath tickling my ear.
All I can do is pant in frustration.
“You said you wanted answers, so I need you to pay attention.” A devilish grin tugs at his full, lush lips.
“What, now?” I moan in confusion. He might’ve stopped moving but he is still inside me and that’s enough to keep me distracted. It’s a revelation; I never thought I’d love being stretched to capacity as much as I do and I’m eager for more.
“Yes, now,” he teases. “This way I have your undivided attention and you mine.” He flexes his hips ever-so-slightly sending my pulse soaring…hmm, I like playful Jackson.
“Ask me your questions, sweetheart, and if you’re good, I’ll reward you.”
Oh…
“…Um…Ah…,” I moan.
“Focus, Angel.”
“…Donors?” I stammer through my erotic haze, remembering what he said earlier.
“The women who feed me, what about them?” his voice as smooth as honey.
“Are they your only…ah…um…food source?” I struggle through the pleasure of his teasing, subtle grinds. “Do you eat…um…animals…or anything?”
Jackson throws his head back and laughs a carefree, throaty laugh that vibrates through his whole body, intensifying his presence inside me, which goes some way to explaining why I’m not entirely bothered by him laughing at me.
“No, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “I don’t eat animals; though that was a good question, if rather funny.”
I’m about to mock indignation when he makes me forget about it completely with a gloriously violent buck that drills so deep into that perfect spot I nearly come with a primal, guttural scream.
I’ve never been with a man who could master my body so powerfully by effectively doing so little; one thrust has me whimpering and begging with my pulse pounding in my ears.
“Steady, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he soothes as he stills again. “Next question.”
“You think I can concentrate after that?”
“If it’s too much, I can always stop,” he teases.
“NO,” I cry a little too forcefully.