Fetish

by Sherri L. King

  Nearly as powerful as hers.

  “Touch me all over, Aerin. I need you,” his hands fisted up at his temples, clear evidence of his growing need and frustration. His words intoxicated her, seduced her, ensorcelled her.

  She straddled him as he lay there, feeling no shame or awkwardness in it as she might have done but a few moments earlier. Something had changed between them. Some exchange of power, of supremacy had occurred, though Aerin had no idea why she felt it had. It just had. Violanti was in thrall to her, to her power as a woman, in a way she never would have—could have—believed. He wanted her. Truly and unashamedly, he wanted her.

  Well she wanted him too. And she meant to have him.

  But for now, the touching. The touching he seemed to need, to crave from her.

  Her hands swept over his chest and stomach. The muscles of his belly clenched, as if tickled, and she repeated the caress with a smile. To find such bliss in touching—she never would have imagined it possible—and again she was struck with the certainty that she’d never been happier than she was in this moment. With this man.

  There was beauty in touch. She was a little surprised to realize that truth. A simple beauty that was innocent despite the very sexual nature of their situation. He was at once smooth and rough, hard and soft, in the way only a truly masculine male at the height of his sexual prime could be. His cock, hot now between her legs, burned her with incessant demand, and she shifted upon him instinctively.

  Violanti groaned gutturally beneath her in answer to her movement upon him. “I can’t take much more of this,” he chuckled ruefully, and sounded more than a little surprised by the admission.

  Her hands rose up and kneaded the ridges of his pectoral muscles, which were tight with a growing tension that was echoed in all the other planes of his body. The silver loop prodded against her palm and she nudged it, twisting it carefully in his flesh until he hissed, bucked up—nudging her off him—and rolled to cover her.

  The shifting colors of his gaze hypnotized her, drawing her deep. His breath shuddered out of his mouth and down over her lips. His teeth looked sharp and wicked as he gritted them, his muscled jaw working tensely. Dark, dangerous intensity locked his muscles tight as his weight bore her deep into the mattress. Some hidden threat she couldn’t name seemed to flow from him to her. Her instincts screamed at her to flee, that something was amiss, that something was terribly wrong, but what that was she couldn’t have guessed. Then the unnamed moment passed and he eased atop her, that devil’s smile coming to play about the corners of his mouth as if it had never left.

  “You’ve learned this game too well, I think, and too quickly. Perhaps you’re too much of a woman for me after all,” he teased, clearly not meaning a word of it.

  “I like touching you,” she blurted out.

  His eyes darkened and the danger was back. “And I like you touching me, sweet Aerin.” His lashes curtained his eyes and his head lowered.

  His lips were like the gentle graze of satin over hers. His breath tasted of cinnamon, filling her mouth as his lips gently parted hers. The warmth of his tongue licked tenderly into her mouth, tracing the outline of her lips and teeth. Widening her mouth eagerly to his kiss, she felt the brush of his tongue across her and moaned.

  That he could have such a wonderful flavor was beyond her most fevered imaginings. Their tongues licked, again and again, as his thrust in and out of her mouth until she felt emboldened enough to follow his lead. Her hands rose up to entwine about his neck, the exquisite softness of his hair teasing her fingers and palms as they locked together, pulling him closer.

  His teeth scraped over her lips, drawing one tiny dot of blood. She winced. He licked the blood away immediately and the pain was gone. The growl that escaped his lips then, bloomed into her mouth and she swallowed it, making it a part of her. His teeth scraped again, sharply, and everything went hazy and dark.

  The bottom of the earth seemed to open up beneath them. Dizziness assailed her, disorientation and confusion overtook her. She felt his mouth on hers, drawing her bottom lip into his mouth. She felt the increasing heat of his skin against her clothed body, beneath her hands which had begun to stroke down over the length of his back and—oh heavens!—his tight buttocks. All else had faded. The only real and tangible thing in her world during that moment was Violanti. And Violanti’s devastating kiss.

  At once he drew back, a nearly violent shove that brought him towering back above her, and she came back to herself with a thud. His mouth was swollen, red, his eyes shifting colors with a violent swiftness. His body shuddered upon hers, his sex a hot brand against her stomach.

  Moaning, beyond mere need or want, and feeling something far, far greater than the two combined, she sought to pull him back to her. She tugged demandingly on the length of his ebony hair. He shuddered again, but came back to her willingly, eyes nearly closed so heavy were his lids.

  But instead of returning to her mouth, as she so longed for him to do, he buried his face in her neck. His breaths came harshly, vibrating the both of them as he lay back upon her. His mouth pressed like a hot brand into her throat, the ridge of his teeth behind them making his kiss hard and rough against her.

  The strength of his hands held her upper arms in a vice-grip. Aerin felt his cock grind against her pubic bone and she eagerly opened her legs to bring him flush against the heart of her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, locking her ankles together, and moaned when he rolled his hips against her.

  She felt the bite of his teeth against her a second before he pulled back again, this time with a roar that should have frightened her, but only served to enflame her more. He set himself back, drawing her up so that she sat beside him once more.

  “We must slow down,” his voice was unsteady, but he quickly regained his composure. His gaze burned across her face and body. “I haven’t had my turn yet, sweet.”

  His hands were immediately at her throat, unbuttoning her demure blouse. The creamy linen was quickly and efficiently discarded, following the path of his own shirt so that it spilled like a cloud onto the floor. His eyes ate her, wide and hot, like flickering flames of silver, green, blue, and sometimes red.

  “You’re perfect,” he breathed. Aerin almost believed the sincerity of his words, but her low self-image was too ingrained.

  At last she could not doubt his sincerity, for when his hands reached out to her they shook almost violently. Broad palms cupped her breasts through the serviceable white satin of her bra. They lifted and tested the weight of her, thumbs gently stroking over the jut of her nipples through the material.

  Looking at his face she saw first wonderment, awe, and then reverence. He truly seemed enthralled with the sight of her breasts. Truly appeared to find her, well, attractive.

  Aerin swore to thank every lucky star that shone in the sky for this moment.

  His fingers slipped—eager—moving to lower the straps of her bra. They swept around and behind her, artfully undoing the catch with but a flick of his fingers. His palms stroked down her back, slow, as if to better savor the feel of her skin.

  The bra fell away, leaving her completely exposed.

  His eyes drank her in.

  Her nipples felt like diamonds on the tips of her breasts, which were heavy with desire. Touch me, her mind and body both screamed, touch me there, please. And then he did, as if he’d heard her demands. Or perhaps he’d wanted it as much as she. His hands took her, the weight of her filling them to overflowing, her nipples stabbing into his palms.

  “Perfect,” he murmured. His fingers stroked, plucking at her nipples, tugging and twisting them until she felt her back bow up towards the caress demandingly. “Beyond perfect,” he amended.

  Firmly now, his hands plumped her. Pressing her down until she lay back into the feather pillows on the bed. His hands wandered down, across the soft swell of her stomach and down to the tiny zipper of her green skirt. Seconds only and the skirt was gone, swept down her thighs and legs and to
ssed over the edge of the bed.

  Aerin had daringly ignored her usual use of panty hose with the skirt while dressing for the night, opting instead for a risqué pair of thigh highs, creamy white to match her blouse, with tiny bows at the tops. She was ever so glad she had, when she saw the blatant appreciation stamped across Violanti’s features once he’d caught sight of them. When he reverently kissed the tops of the stockings she almost fainted with the shock and pleasure, and vowed never to wear anything beneath her skirts but thigh highs for the rest of her life.

  Her panties flew from her as if they had wings, his fingers easily hooking them and pulling them down her legs. His eyes burned her, his hands holding her legs spread wide to his gaze. A single, glittering drop of sweat trailed down his temple.

  “I need you, Aerin,’’ his eyes left her sex and met hers, “can you understand that? Forget the lesson, forget the plan, I need you.”

  She nodded, feeling the weight of the situation as if it were a palpable thing, though she didn’t understand it.

  “Give me all of you, sweet. I swear I’ll keep and hold you safe. Just please don’t pull back now,” he groaned eyes roving back down over her body. “Please.”

  As if she could have pulled back. “I won’t,” she promised.

  He spread her legs wider, more demanding now. She felt some shyness at being so displayed before him, but it was miniscule in the face of his obvious desire. They were nude together now, but for her stockings. For the first time in Aerin’s life, she was nude before a man, ready to take him as her lover.

  One of his hands moved between her legs. The touch of his fingers upon her downy hair, upon her wet and swollen flesh, made her squeal in surprised pleasure. Those fingers spread the folds of her cunt, opening the seam of her so that her deepest treasures were open to his gaze. “Sugar girl,” he murmured, thrilling her.

  His fingers stroked over her quim, smearing and spreading her moisture over every inch of quivering flesh that was open and blooming for his pleasure. His hair fell over his face, shielding him from her, giving him secrets and shadows. Those eyes of his glinted red beneath that curtain of hair for a moment, she could have sworn to it, then blazed a hard silver.

  “Touching is important in this journey,” he said. “So is tasting.”

  His body lowered. His head bent, his breath sent a scalding wave over her pussy, and then his mouth closed upon her.

  Aerin screamed, nearly bucking him off of her.

  He smiled against her, she could actually feel the curve of his lips there, and then they opened so that his tongue could dance against her. Never in a million years had Aerin expected this, and it was just as crazy and magical and exciting as she would have dreamed it had she dared. She flew, the world spun like a mad top around her, and all because Violanti’s head was bobbing between her legs as he licked her from anus to clit and back again. Over and over until she thought she might die with the swelling excitement.

  Now his mouth clamped upon her, sucking her. Wet noises filled the room and her ears, along with the sound of her frantic breaths and moans. She bucked up against his face and he pressed deeper into her, sucking and licking harder.

  Then came the nibbles, the love bites, the sting of his teeth. She cried out, spreading her legs farther apart, begging with her body that he continue, that he never stop. There came a greater sting as he bit harder into her before he abruptly pulled away.

  But, to her never-ending ecstasy, he replaced his mouth with his fingers. Thrusting his long middle finger deep into her pussy, filling and stretching her, while another finger played artfully with her swollen clit.

  His eyes met hers as his hand thrust between her legs. “Sugar girl. Sweet. So fucking sweet.” He licked his swollen, sultry lips that shone with her moisture.

  The weight of his body covered her, his hand still moving deeply in and out of her cunt. Wet slapping noises accompanied his every motion. His mouth sealed against hers, and she tasted herself there on his lips and tongue. The kiss trailed away from her mouth to her jaw and throat. Then came a sharp sting and again the world went fuzzy and strange.

  A feeling of warmth, liquid and thick, spread from her throat to his mouth which worked against her as his kiss deepened. The sensation of giving, of sharing something deep inside of her—something more than mere sex—welled up within her. In that moment she wanted nothing more than to disappear into Violanti, to give him all of her until there was nothing left.

  The world spun wildly and turned gray around them. Violanti was the only solid thing in that strange reality. The single finger in her pussy became two, stretching her as he thrust his hand, hard, against her. A fingertip pressed into the hard button of her clit, once, twice, and on the third attempt she felt a flood of moisture rain down upon his hand. Her body became a living pulse, a giant throbbing heartbeat. And then she truly flew.

  Her climax crashed down around her and she screamed louder than ever before. No release had ever taken her like this. Another finger moved into her and another until she felt she would be split open. It was as if Violanti was reaching for the very heart of her by way of her womb, he thrust so deeply into her.

  The muscles of her cunt clamped down on his pounding hand until she was certain it caused him some pain. She felt so tight. So full of pleasure and passion and—yes—pain, for she was stretched wide and Violanti’s mouth still drew upon her. The hand thrust deep into her again, hooking, curving inside of her until she felt a new sensation that was perhaps even more powerful than the climax that still gripped her.

  She came again and again and again, screaming and crying and sobbing and moaning until she knew her voice was failing her. As was her vision…as were her lungs…until all went gray.

  * * * * *

  It was far too soon, for them both, and he knew it. But some strange fever had overtaken his better judgment and his self-control had slipped dangerously. He hungered so very deeply. His body and soul thirsted, his veins begged and yearned with their burning need. He was powerless against his own dark nature. Violanti sank his fangs sharply into her silken throat and drank deep.

  Starlight exploded in every fiber of his being. So pure, so sweet. Her aura, a glowing golden halo that surrounded her at all times, extended to enfold him. Her life’s energy as well as her blood filled him, fed him. She was so giving. So full of life. He’d never felt such wonder, such fulfillment, such ecstasy. And there was no hesitancy in her. She gave everything of herself to him, and through their open hearts he shared with her the gift that was his alone to give.

  He was an incubus and a vampire, but these labels, these names were not so dark a curse as the modern world proclaimed. He had gifts unimagined, and used them now, to thank her for such a wonderful gift as her trust. She must trust him, for he could never have fed off her so fully if she’d been guarded or unwilling.

  So innocent and yet so generous, that was his sweet Aerin through and through. The taste of her blood filled his mouth, made his head swim with spectacular visions of love and lust and desire. The flavor of her aura, her life essence, filled his body to overflowing until it sang with a vibrating energy the likes of which he hadn’t felt in all his long years. Nothing had ever felt so unbelievably perfect.

  He would never have enough of her. Not now, not ever.

  He was out of his mind with love for her.

  If there had ever been a time he had thought to bind her to him for his own pleasure, he now knew it was impossible. She had beaten him to it, binding him to her in a way he hadn’t even known humans were capable of. He was instantly addicted. There would never be a moment, no matter how long he existed, of rest from wanting her. Needing her.

  The explosion of her climax rocked him. He swallowed more of her. Gods! She filled every empty place within him. Through her he could see the sunlight, smell the spring flowers, feel the soft rain of morning dew. It had never been like this for him during a feeding.

  Because this was no feeding. This was somethin
g else, something he had no name for.

  He swallowed the hot, spicy taste of her again, his teeth vibrating with the pulse of her heart. The bright glow of her faded a bit as her strength flowed into him. She was growing weak, limp in his arms. He’d feared this. Had pulled back from biting her half a dozen times already, knowing it might come to this. He had no self-control with her, it was crazy to hope for any. She made him lose all discipline by merely looking at him with her incredible, bottomless eyes.

  He had taken too much.

  He swallowed one last time, unable to deny that last, deep sip, then released her. Putting her from him firmly, he looked her over to be sure he hadn’t caused any lasting harm. Her aura brightened almost immediately. She was strong. She would be fine.

  But would he? His head swam drunkenly. His entire body tingled within and without. The taste of her beckoned him for more, until he gritted his teeth against the powerful urge to drink from her again. The razor sharp edge of his fangs drew blood from his own lips and he tasted her there in his bloodstream with a broken cry. So sweet! So perfect. He was lost.

  The soft silk of her skin eased his bloodlust, but awakened another. She moved against him with a soft moan, and the burning wet core of her sweet pussy brushed against him with her efforts. His hands were covered with the flood of her climax and he licked them, leaving pink stains of their mingled blood behind.

  The dramatic slopes and curves of her body made his stomach clench and his heart beat a mad staccato in his chest. Her nipple tasted sweet, her breast and belly and navel were soft and perfect. He kissed her from head to toe, pausing to lick her behind the knees, to gently bite the tender skin of her ankles.

  Touching his fill while she lay dazed in her swoon, he gave her the power that was his to share through that touch. A power that would sing through her, even if she had no idea what to do with it or how to use it. And she wouldn’t. For now, the spell that protected Fetish would serve to dim her memory so that even if he told her, explained everything in detail, she would forget. But it would be there, that power, waiting for her to will it into use—even subconsciously.