Her Vampire Suspect (Midnight Doms Book 11)

by Brenda Trim

  “I will spank you eventually, little star. When I have earned your trust.” He’s determined to prove himself. We’ll see how long that lasts. “I’ll stick with the flogger for tonight. Take off your skirt.”

  Heat travels across my body when I reach for the zipper behind me and encounter his erection. I run a finger over the hardness concealed by his slacks. I tug the fastenings and push the fabric to my feet.

  His hand brushes over the top edge of my panties before disappearing. My head turns to the side and rests on the wall. His movements are graceful as he unbuttons his shirt and lets it drop. My eyes eat up the sight of his bare chest. His muscles bunch and smooth as he unzips his pants and pushes them to the floor.

  Keeping my eyes trained on his, I undo my bra then lower both arms and let it fall. Cool air kisses my nipples and they harden. Like a heat seeking missile, Corbyn’s eyes move from my face to my breasts, and lower. His hand nudges my thigh as I step out of my skirt.

  I’m standing in front of him in nothing but my panties and strappy heels. A hint of fang flashes as he takes a breath. The bulge in his pants tells me he’s as turned on as I am. Does he want my blood just as badly as my body?

  He steps back in his boxer briefs with his shirt unbuttoned and nothing else. The flogger lifts into the air then he flicks his wrist and the tails smack my body, harder than before. The sting turns me into putty. To his credit, he doesn’t take advantage of my aroused stupor.

  Before I get lost inside my head, I focus on the sensations and leave my palms flat on the wall above me. I tend to over analyze things. Now is the time to close my eyes and feel what he is doing to my body.

  He shifts his stance to come at me from a different angle. With my eyes closed, all I have to go by is the way his skin brushes mine here and there. I need more contact. He’s teasing me, and the touches he allows are delicious and titillating.

  It helps that I have no doubt about being intimate with Corbyn. My heart is racing in my chest, wetness is seeping from me, my breasts tingle, and I can’t quite seem to catch my breath. It’s fucking perfect, and just what I need.

  As if connected to me on a cellular level and able to sense what I want, Corbyn presses against my back and grips my chin. His gentleness fades away as he forces my head to lift and turn so he can take my lips in a bruising kiss.

  My breath leaves me entirely as his mouth presses to mine and his tongue traces over my lips. His hands fall to my hips and he squeezes my flesh. He deepens the embrace, and my panties whisper down my legs. His mouth and hands are everywhere, devouring me. A gasp escapes me when one of his fangs nicks my lip.

  He immediately breaks away and is staring down at me, panting for several seconds before he smiles and licks the small amount of my blood off his mouth. I turn to the side a bit and he pushes on my hips. I follow his silent instructions until I am facing him.

  I lift my hands above my head and bend my knee, placing my foot on the wall behind me. The fabric of his shirt falls open, giving me glimpses of his toned chest. I glance down and swallow past a lump in my throat.

  The average man’s penis is around five inches long. I read that in one of my anatomy classes in college and have never forgotten that figure. The cock straining against his black boxer briefs tells me that Corbyn is far bigger than average. I’ve always wanted to test if the notion that size doesn’t matter is true.

  I am a live wire and my hips rock forward, trying to make contact with him. He smiles and traces the fingers of one hand down the middle of my chest. I want him now, but he seems content to stand there watching me.

  My need is too great to be patient with him right now. I’m used to pleasuring myself, and don’t think twice when one of my hands goes to one breast and the other slips beneath my panties. The short hair between my legs is shaved close, and I slide one finger between my lower lips.

  His eyes narrow as he watches me rub my clit. All he can see is my hand moving beneath my underwear but his gaze is so intense it’s as if he’s directing my fingers. His nostrils flare with arousal right before my eyes fall partially closed and my moan rumbles in response to the pleasure. His hand snaps out, and the tails of the flogger hit my chest before I register that he has moved.

  My pleasure intensifies with the sting. His fingers slip beneath the elastic waist of my panties and he tears them away. I gasp, melting to a puddle. I’m ready to explode without ever really being touched. “Those were expensive. You could’ve taken them off.”

  Corbyn drops to his knees, sets the flogger down, and slides his hands across my hips then lower. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

  His head moves toward me and his mouth is on my lower abdomen before heading further south. My hips move in an attempt to get him where I need him. His lips travel over my pubic bone then between my thighs.

  His tongue darts into my slick folds, where he licks from my opening to my throbbing clit.

  “Shit.”

  His skill is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I’m so lost in what he’s doing to me that I forget everything but my need to come. Only his mouth and my body exist in that moment. With one last hard suck, he releases my clit and pushes to his feet.

  “You’re delicious.” Corbyn’s hands run up and down my sides.

  I’m on edge, waiting to see what he does next. My core spasms and clenches. I’m so empty, it hurts.

  When he bends down and retrieves his flogger, I’m prepared when the soft ends hit my flesh. His lips part and I see his fangs are even bigger than before. I don’t notice his hand move, but his next stroke lands on my breasts. I can’t help but cry out and arch my back into his ministrations while my leg drops back to the floor.

  He doesn’t pause this time but keeps hitting me with the implement. I have to brace myself or I will fall over. The ends repeatedly bite into my nipples in the best possible way. The sting builds with each strike but is always followed by pleasure in an ever-increasing cycle that has my mind buzzing with nothing but my need for release.

  My eyes remain glued to him, and I see when his hand moves this time. I hold my breath, hoping the change in angle will make his next stroke land on my pussy. “Fuck!” The ends wrap around my hip and land on my ass, missing my clit entirely.

  “What do you want, little star?” Corbyn closes the distance between us. His heat matches the burn of my skin from the leather.

  “Everything,” I manage to reply.

  He presses his lips to mine and wraps the leather around my neck. His mouth is urgent. Needing to move this along, I reach between us and shove at his briefs. I manage to catch his underwear, too, and push it down with his slacks.

  His erection bobs, hitting my stomach when he is freed. My fingers wrap around his turgid flesh and I break away from his mouth when he hisses. “God, woman. You surprise me at every turn. You’re harder to figure out than a two-thousand-piece puzzle.”

  “I’m more than just a pretty face. Now shut up and fuck me already,” I demand.

  Corbyn chuckles and grips his erection in one hand. I go to my tiptoes when he bends his knees. The tip runs through my folds and I lift one leg to open myself more for his invasion.

  A grunt against the column of my neck brings my attention back to how he is kissing and licking over my pounding pulse. I suck in a breath as he plunges his cock balls-deep in my pussy at the same moment as his fangs pierce my skin.

  My vision blanks as pleasure steals over me. All I can feel is the sting from his bite, followed by his shaft pounding in and out of my core. My back hits the wall with each of his thrusts, and he doesn’t release my neck. Every pull of his mouth is like a caress over my clit.

  I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hang on. My nails dig into his flesh when he lifts my other leg. Now I have both thighs clinging to his hips, leaving me at his mercy. He fucks me hard and fast and, all too soon, I’m hurtling over the edge as stars explode in my vision. My orgasm burns me to ashes. I don’t feel the same when I emerge on the other side.<
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  “That was beyond words. I hope you enjoyed your meal as much as I did my dessert,” I tease him in panting breaths.

  Corbyn chuckles as he slides one arm beneath my knees and one behind my back. I’m a limp noodle in his arms as he walks out of the room. “Better than crème brulee.” He kisses the side of my neck gently. “I should’ve grabbed some juice or cookies earlier. I had a full meal that’s likely to leave you dizzy.”

  He sets me on the marble counter in his bathroom but doesn’t bother with the light. There’s enough moonlight streaming through the large window for me to see the huge, opulent space.

  “I don’t know about that. Especially if you add fresh raspberries to the top.” I smile. “I need to get home.”

  “Let’s get you cleaned up, then we can get you an Uber home. Promise me you won’t go back to Club Toxic. I told you I wouldn’t use compulsion on you again, so I’m asking.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He turns to the shower and twists the handle to start the water. “I’ve used compulsion some other times to keep you away from the club, and out of Lucius’s sights. I don’t want the king seeing you as a threat. You won’t like what he does to those he considers a danger to our kind. You never should’ve returned after I steered you away.”

  “I see someone’s full of himself. No one stops me from doing what I need to.” He’d better get that through his head. No one can stop me.

  “You were full of me minutes ago. Miss me already? I can show you the pleasure to be had in the shower.”

  I shake my head at the way he waggles his eyebrows at me. “Tempting, but that can’t happen. If I allow you to have me again, you’ll become addicted to me. You won’t survive if I give you too much.” I hop off the counter and saunter into the shower.

  A low growl rumbles from his chest, and my pussy clenches with need all over again. I smile when I hear him grumble something about my humility. I can’t admit the real possibility that I’m the one who will want too much from him. He might be a vampire, but we have chemistry that is off the charts.

  Ava

  Shoving my key into my lock, I open my door and cross the threshold. It feels like I haven’t been home in weeks rather than less than twelve hours. I blame the vampire for my disorientation. Corbyn is a man of extraordinary talents. He fucked me to the point where I saw stars, and my core twinges with soreness, reminding me of the night I had.

  No regrets, though. I enjoyed every minute of it, and find myself eager for a repeat session. Not that surprising, given how much pleasure I experienced. It seems as if Corbyn has awakened some kind of ravenous beast within me—one that hungers for his body, and so much more. The desire to head to the nearest adult store and purchase some clamps along with some other toys has me wanting to pick up the keys from my side table and jump back into my car. I want to have something new to try with Corbyn when I see him again later.

  I still can’t believe I agreed to go out with him again. Not that we are going to dinner. He doesn’t eat anything but me. My body flushes with arousal for what feels like the hundredth time since I left his house about thirty minutes ago. My hand lifts and my fingers run over the spot on my neck where Corbyn bit me and drank my blood.

  Just earlier this evening, I was disturbed by the idea of someone drinking my blood. I didn’t give it much thought at the time—only that it made sense that a vampire killed these women, and how horrible it would be to be sucked dry. I still think it would be an awful way to die, but now I can hardly think about anything except how good it felt when he bit me! I can’t deny the way the mere thought of Corbyn’s fangs penetrating my flesh ignites my desire all over again. It’s official. I’m losing my damn mind.

  My phone pings with a text message, and I rush to grab it. Heart racing, I snatch it up. There’s a message from Uber for the charge of the ride from Corbyn’s mansion to my car. “Shit,” I breathe as I drop my cell and mentally chastise myself for hoping Corbyn had sent me a message.

  The man is a vampire, and he didn’t attempt to convince me to stay with him today. I’m not one to want cuddle time after sex, but it was such an intense encounter. I don’t know precisely what I want. All I know is I’m left with more questions.

  I have to assume he is either knocked unconscious by the sun, or something similar. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t want to be vulnerable like that. I know he’s not married and worried his wife would return and find us.

  Logically, I could be wrong about him having a wife and being the one responsible for the murders, but I follow my gut on these matters. And none of the questions I have are about him being a suspect. They’re all about me wondering why he didn’t want me to stay. And, possibly me being slightly insecure. I need to stop my mind from going in a hundred different directions.

  I shove my eagerness about our date later tonight from my mind and head into my bedroom to change my clothes. There’s a moment where I consider lying down and taking a nap, but I’m too keyed up to rest. I tug my top over my head as I step into the closet and grab some jeans and a t-shirt. Kicking off my shoes, I quickly change my clothes and grab some tennis shoes and socks.

  Not being able to sleep doesn’t mean I’m not tired. My body is sated and loose, while my mind is wide awake. Hoping coffee can rejuvenate me, I quickly start a pot then turn on the TV.

  With streaming now being the most popular way to watch shows, I’m saved from the horrendous choices of Sunday morning television. Selecting my favorite drama series, I start the next episode of Grey’s Anatomy. With all the thoughts racing through my head, I can’t sit still, so I pick up the living room.

  Living alone makes cleaning fairly simple. My daily routine keeps everything neat and tidy. Deciding I should give the bathrooms and kitchen another scrub, I grab the bottles of cleaners from beneath the sink.

  Yesterday, I spent more time deciding what to wear and didn’t attend to my house, so I start in the spare bedroom. I leave nothing untouched in my attempt to distract myself. After the window and blinds are done, I move onto my bedroom. Unfortunately, scouring tile, toilets and sinks doesn’t occupy my mind well enough, and it wanders to more pleasant topics while I work.

  For the second time since leaving Corbyn’s house, I consider visiting the local adult store and picking up something to spice things up later. I regret not keeping any of the toys I purchased with my last boyfriend. At the time, I wanted no reminder of the relationship.

  Now, I realize I was being dumb. I bought them, not Dan. They represented what I wanted, and had little to do with him. He was my dom and refused to use anything I asked him to during scenes. In fact, he took great pains to avoid using anything I wanted. He demanded total control and berated me for not being a good submissive. That was when I gave up on that lifestyle entirely.

  Cleaning does nothing to distract me and I keep obsessing about Corbyn so several hours later, I am just as wound up as I was before. I can’t stop thinking about how much I want shit I’d given up on. I never thought I’d want to trust someone with my heart again. The good news is that after several hours of cleaning, I’m finally ready to take a nap. Right after I finish the front bathroom. I can’t leave that room unfinished.

  Lady Gaga’s voice echoes from the entryway. The music is coming from my cell. Dropping the sponge into the sink, I wipe my hands then dart into the hall of my small two-bedroom house and answer the call.

  “Agent DeLeon,” I say when I notice it’s Diggs.

  “Ava. Tuscon PD just called about a new case fitting your serial’s MO. This time, you’ll be able to gather evidence from the scene,” Diggs informs me.

  My mind races while I kick off my shoes and grab a pant suit from my closet. Putting the phone on speaker, I remove my clothes while I say, “This could be the break we need. Text me the address.”

  “Have you called Tinnea?”

  “I’ll call her next. The scene is on the edge of the park in Alvernon Heights. See you in a bit.” Diggs hangs up.


  Hitting the button, I jump into the shower. I don’t wait for the water to heat up entirely before I’m under the stream and washing my sweaty body.

  Once done, I dry off and step into my pants then throw on a tank top before grabbing my jacket. Running a brush through my tangled locks, I pull them into a ponytail. Keeping my face makeup simple, I apply some lip gloss and mascara then slide my feet into my ugly yet comfortable work shoes. I grab my purse and keys and am out the door in less than five minutes.

  I jump into the car and toss my purse in the seat next to me. “Fuck.” I hope the police haven’t assumed a run-of-the-mill murder fits our guy. The neighborhood boasts a murder rate of over two hundred percent higher than the national average. Homicide isn’t something new to that area.

  My phone pings with the address Diggs sent, and I enter it into Google maps before heading to the scene. I arrive on scene in twenty minutes, and park next to a coroner’s van. Grabbing my phone and badge right before Bria pulls up next to me, I climb out of the car at the same time she does.

  “What do we have?” She grabs her cell.

  “Not sure. I just got here.” I clip my badge to the waist of my pants and we head to the police tape across the lot. “I hope this is one of our cases and not something else entirely.”

  “Agents DeLeon and Tinnea,” I introduce us when we approach. “Where’s the lead detective?”

  The cop points to a crowd. “Detective Anderson’s over there by the body.”

  As we approach the cluster of people, I search for Anderson. Local law enforcement is taking pictures, setting out markers, and waiting with plastic bags in hand.

  A tall man with greying hair steps away from a group of four Tucson police officers when he sees us approaching.

  “Detective Anderson?” I ask.

  “Oh good. You’re with the FBI,” he says, glancing at my badge. “We’ve got one female victim with a wound across her left carotid artery. She’s been drained of blood like the others.”