Revenge of the Witch

by J. M. Davies

  “Say it, Isabella. I need to hear you say it,” Roman whispered by her ear as he leaned on his arms above her, his dark eyes unblinking and fixed on her. He nibbled the soft skin of her ear and she lifted her head, needing him right now.

  “I need you—I’m begging, you bastard. There isn’t anyone else, Roman. It’s always been you.” She twisted away, feeling exposed and vulnerable at her admission. But as she tried to move, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head as she lifted her bottom up off the mattress to push him off her.

  “I’m going to ring out every orgasm I can until you’re completely undone, and fuck every part of your body so hard you will forget every man before me. You will burn for me, my love.”

  His words switched the heat level from simmering to blazing, and she stretched her hand to grip his stiff cock. But as soon as she touched it, his hand wrapped around hers, and he bit her ear.

  “For our first time, I need to feel you clamp down tight on my cock while I’m inside you.”

  His breath on her neck sent cool shivers down her spine and she rubbed her skin over his, wanting to feel as close as possible to him. When his teeth nipped her earlobe, an electrical charge shot through her to her core, making her wet, and she sank her nails deep into his back. The waves that started increased. She quivered with desperate need. Grinding her hips against his erection, she couldn’t help but press her head back in the pillow as Roman kissed and explored her throat—kissing, licking, teasing—until she shook with tremors.

  He held her waist to pull her down to face each other. “Feed, my love. I know you’re hungry.”

  He pulled her over until she pressed over his chest, and her lips rested by his neck. Isabella spread her hands over his hard muscles, squeezing the solid bulges, and leaned into his body as his erection nudged her belly. She grazed his throat with the sharp edge of her teeth. At the movement, his dick tipped and probed her sex. Unable to stop, she sank her canines into his skin and he bucked. Isabella gripped his arms as she sucked and undulated over his body. Spasms fanned out and increased the frenzy in her blood, the taste divine as she swallowed down her throat. She mewled as euphoria filled her.

  Needing more, she clutched his back, and he twisted them, pushing her under him as she continued to suck. His cock slid inside a fraction, as if testing her readiness. But she couldn’t wait any longer, and she spread her legs wider, needing him inside her now. Roman pushed his hips back, but she pressed down on his bottom as he inched inside. Full of his blood, she released her teeth and sank into the bed as her body floated. Roman kissed her lips and captured her mouth, dropping a gentle kiss. He moved to her cheek and left small kisses, making a trail down her neck, collarbone, and breasts. She jerked as he sucked and nibbled them. He brushed his sharp teeth over her nipple and drew it into his mouth. She arched her back off the bed at the contact and her hand reached out for his cock, positioning it over her entrance.

  Roman grabbed her hand in his, and ground his hips into her, hypnotizing her with his slow movement until he thrust deep inside, and she shuddered. A moment of pain disappeared and was replaced by an intense fullness and she froze. He crushed his lips to hers and she dug her nails in his back. He dominated her body as he pivoted back and forth, the intensity overwhelming.

  Their eyes locked in an unspoken moment that she would never forget, bound forever in a way that connected their hearts and souls no matter what happened after. Roman caressed her breasts and smoothed her skin with such reverence she was spellbound. The slow rhythm he started increased to an urgent and desperate mating as he slid farther and farther inside. Isabella stared at where their bodies connected, as her sex pulsed around him. Roman brushed his lips along her throat, whispering in Italian. He slowed down as her muscles clenched around him, and moaned.

  “Relax, my love. Let go. It will feel better that way, I promise.”

  Isabella listened to him, as the wild flutters and spiraling spasms intensified. She sank into the bliss he created as he pumped fast, grunting and moaning, taking handfuls of her hair and tugging.

  “This body is mine—you belong to me, Isabella. Do you understand?”

  And she did.

  Every piece of her belonged to him. He plunged deep inside and she tilted her pelvis to accept every glorious inch, leaning into him. Wanting more, she wrapped her legs around his back. She loved the beast who filled her almost painfully. Roman nipped her neck and shoulder before moving over the rest of her body. At each place, he bit into her flesh, drawing blood from every sensitive spot, and closed the wounds with a flick of his tongue. Every nick or cut felt as if he imprinted his mark on her. Claimed her. As his fingers rubbed her clit, an intense pressure grew unbearable. As he pushed deep inside, the climbing pulses of her orgasm ruptured and she screamed out at her release.

  “Roman.”

  Wave after wave of ecstasy slammed through her and she let it carry her, every part of her boneless. Roman kissed her nipple and sucked, sparking another wave of desire and she smiled, loving his boundless energy. He withdrew and thrust back until a strangled cry escaped him. Shudders charged through her again and he sagged on her chest, with his hand cupping her breast. Staring down at the rugged man, still sheathed inside her and still hard, she raked her hands through his thick midnight-blue hair.

  Roman lifted his head, a serious expression painted over his face as he slipped out from her and rested on his side. He pulled her into his hard frame so they faced each other. A shyness stole over her and she couldn’t meet his intense scrutiny, even when he stroked the side of her hip back and forth, smoothing her skin with the palm of his hand. The lull in conversation exacerbated her anxiety. His hand traced a path from her hip to her waist and stilled to cup her breast as she shuddered under his touch. When he tweaked her nipple, a pull deep inside drew her closer to him, as if connected. He lowered his head and captured her hard nub between his teeth and tugged until it stung. She hissed in response, but he sucked the sensitive flesh and a wetness grew in her core as a new need for the vamp’s possession rose.

  “Why didn’t you say something, Isabella?”

  Isabella froze, but Roman grabbed her wrist as he continued to play with her breast, reeling her in. She knew what he meant, but as he slid down her body until his head rested between her legs, she couldn’t speak. Instead, she widened them to give him more access, and writhed under his tender ministrations.

  “Would it have made a difference?” She groaned.

  “No—but I would have been more gentle. Slower.”

  His tongue speared her needy core and he sucked and lapped her juices as she bucked off the bed. As she clutched the sheets, she didn’t want his lovemaking to end. His hand played with her clit as he probed her entrance and thrust his tongue inside. Yes, oh God yes. She raked her hands through his hair and screamed out his name.

  “I don’t want slow, Roman. I want you, hard and fast. Any way and every way I can, Your Highness.”

  His head shot up and he stared deep into her eyes with a smoldering gaze. He captured her chin as he clambered over her, leaning hard against her breasts until his erection rubbed at her entrance, and he caressed her cheek.

  “That turns me rock hard, love. That and the fact I am your first and only lover. I won’t share you, Isabella. A part of me thought I could let you go, but not after this, and I will kill anyone who tries to take what is mine. Do you understand?”

  Tingles rose inside. Isabella understood possession. His hard cock jutted at her entrance, and he rocked the tip back and forth inside as the wetness grew. At this moment, he owned her body. She couldn’t deny it even if she wished to; her body insisted. She palmed his cheek and wriggled lower to sink down slowly on his rigid shaft.

  “I won’t share either, Roman, and I, too, have claws.” She groaned as her core clenched around his dick, the fullness overwhelming.

  “Ah—you were created for me, my love.”

  Roman kissed her deep and thrust his cock upw
ard as she ground herself into him. Isabella clamped her legs over his hips, relishing and savoring how alive she felt. She dug her nails in his flesh and he hissed.

  “As vampires, my love, we can fuck all night.”

  Smiling at his revelation, she shoved him over until she lay astride his legs, impaled with his cock. She squeezed the walls of her sex tight, and he growled.

  “Only the night?” she teased as she rocked into him, delighted at the restrained passion that hovered in his eyes. She didn’t want him to hold back; she wanted to push him to the limits and ruin him for other women. “You’re mine, Roman, and I want you to teach me everything.”

  A self-satisfied grin broke out as he claimed her hips and dug his nails into her skin. She sank over his hard cock and screamed as the fullness stretched her internal muscles, but he rocked her back and forth as wave after wave of ecstasy raced through her. Instinctively, she threw her head back with abandon, wallowing in the glorious fusion of their bodies. Roman tilted his hips upward. Feeling his shaft pulsing inside as it stretched and pushed deeper, claiming her, a frantic need grew. Roman occupied her body; he had taken possession and she met every thrust with her own need crying out, grunting and screaming in delight. She didn’t want him to stop—ever. Was this love? She wondered briefly whether Roman loved her, but the mist of desire overrode her fears.

  “By the time I have finished with you, love, you’ll be begging me to stop.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The mid-morning sun promised another beautiful day in Mauritius, despite the chance of a rain shower later. Sitting, reading the local paper, and sipping on black coffee, it would be easy to forget all your troubles as you watched the light crowd of tourists milling around under the colorful canopies of umbrellas as they shopped or studied the menus, deciding where to eat in Port Louis. But he was here with one intention: to give Henry his send-off. Over the past couple of weeks, the mild-mannered secretary had been training day and night. He was ready to infiltrate the Padre’s company, Soltaire.

  A rather sun-tanned and rotund Padre sat several tables away with a slim young brunette wearing black shades at his side. Three other men surrounded him as he ate his breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausage, and pancakes. The man enjoyed his food. A waiter in the standard white shirt and black pants marched to the table and refilled everyone’s coffee and walked away. The flawless beauty was the Padre’s latest consort; she sipped on orange juice, which Jake suspected contained alcohol. Letting that odious man touch her stunning body would require something to dull the senses. He tapped into his headset. Everyone was in place. The plan was to cause maximum noise and chaos with minimal damage. Henry’s position afforded him the closest view of their target, and soon the fireworks show would begin.

  “Gateway, we have eyes on the target and are locked and loaded.”

  Jake headed this mission, and there were seven on the ground, including Henry. It was Jake’s role to aim at the Padre, but to hit Henry when the secretary intervened to make it look as if he were saving the billionaire’s life. There are several places to shoot and cause the least amount of damage. One area was the thigh and another the arm. The deltoid muscle was a good place, if you avoided the bone. As a trained sniper, he had killed targets at a distance of six hundred meters with one round, something most soldiers couldn’t achieve. Today, there would be margin for error, but the distance much closer. To be a sniper, one must be highly skilled and he practiced every day at the range. It also required patience. Once he had taken the shot, it would be up to Henry to ingratiate himself into the Padre’s underworld and discover as much as he could.

  “Start the countdown, DQ.”

  Draining his espresso, he peered over at Henry as he stood to pass by the Padre’s table. Jake shifted his position, eyes locked on his target, but aware the entire time of his peripheral surroundings. Years of training as a Navy SEAL came in handy on these missions. A female waitress cleared his table as he clutched his Glock between his thighs, ready to aim and fire. His finger on the trigger ready, but Henry did something that they hadn’t planned. He stopped and pivoted around.

  What the fuck? A shot fired at him. Jake jolted back, stunned as pain flared. The bullet hit him in his right arm. Pushing up with a fury, he knocked the table sideways, and fired his weapon, but Henry had dodged out of the way, and with his injured arm, his aim was way off. More shots fired as the secretary darted between pillars, peppering the tall palm tree to his side.

  Holy shit. Chairs scraped on the concrete and screams sounded out as he held his weapon with both his hands. As Henry stepped into focus, he fired again.

  Henry reciprocated, and another bullet penetrated his lower body. More rounds emptied and his gun was knocked clear out of his hand. He leaned on the gray pillar as blood poured from several wounds, his focus on staying alive. “Charlie…foxtrot.”

  He sounded the alarm. He needed assistance. That man out there was a fucking stranger. There was no way the meek Henry he knew was that good a marksman. He staggered, putting all his weight on his side in an effort to remain standing. The impact to his leg wouldn’t let him walk far, and as he adjusted his weight to his left leg, he tried to limp. But taking a step forward, pain shot through his thigh and torso. Jake dropped to the ground as the world around him started to fade. Blood poured through his white linen shirt, and his leg burned like shit as he wiped his mouth to keep focused.

  “Charlie…foxtrot!” he yelled into his headset. He was a dead man. Jake blinked. The restaurant was now clear of the Padre and his woman, but where was the traitorous bastard? It had been a setup from start to finish. One he didn’t think he would come back from. His vision blurred, and he knew he was losing blood. Fuck, how ironic. First Sparkles, now me. If that fucking vampire appears, I will shoot myself.

  From beginning to end, this assignment seemed to be cut-and-dried. Jake stared up at the blue sky. The sounds faded around him as his heart ramped up speed, trying to save his life. He shifted to reach for his handgun, stretching as far as he could until his fingers touched cold metal. What a clusterfuck. He had trusted Henry, that fucking bastard. A shadow fell over him, blocking out the sun. He blinked but made out the man’s face clear enough. Henry—back to finish the job. Jake pushed to stand up, but the man pressed his foot on his chest, forcing him down.

  “Fucking stay down. There’s no other way.” Henry aimed his gun right at his head, and fired. Bullets emptied into the ground as he lost consciousness.

  Warm hands roamed over his arm and thigh, his body reacting swiftly to the sensual ministrations, but he needed the gentle touches to move lower to where he ached the most right now. The murmuring around him pushed for him to open his eyes, but he didn’t want to; he just wanted to lie here in his dream for a moment longer.

  “Jake Meadows, it’s time to wake up. The doc says you’re healing well, and my magic hands are working wonders on your thigh and deltoids.”

  “Meadows, enough is enough. My wife has had her hands all over your slimy body since you arrived. Now wake the fuck up.”

  What had started as an erotic dream with soft hands roaming over his skin morphed into a nightmare at the bark of his boss. Jake knew the sweet female voice, and groaned as warm hands smoothed over his upper right arm. Yes, that feels wonderful, princess; keep doing that just a little longer. He peeked through half-open eyelids and smiled at the group of faces honed in on him. Two pretty women, and one intense and broody dude giving him a murderous look. Drayton. Jake licked his lips and the blonde beauty, his princess, lifted a plastic beaker to his mouth, which he sipped. Water, but its taste bliss.

  “Is this heaven?” he asked, smiling.

  Drayton closed in, giving him a smile. The doctor swam into view, blocking out Ella and Marcus as she leaned over him and hoisted his body forward unaided to plump his pillows.

  “There, that’s better. Now don’t try to move too much until I know for sure you’re not in any discomfort. I have an infusion set up pumpi
ng you full of drugs, but as Ella healed your wounds, I have been reducing the amount you receive. How are you feeling?”

  Wow. The doctor wasn’t wearing her normal glasses, and her cheeks flushed a pretty rosy pink. Her huge eyes studied him directly and with such intensity, he grabbed her chin and pulled her closer, landing a kiss on her irresistible cupid-bow lips. What provoked him, he didn’t know, but jeez, he was fucking alive, and if his hard-on was anything to go by, in anything but pain. He kissed her gently, and she kissed him back, but with an intensity that made him hold on one moment longer as the taste of strawberries lingered. After a moment or two, she shrugged out of his clasp, coughed and backed far enough away that he couldn’t reel her in again. Not that he would—right now—but he studied her flushed cheeks and the way she tried to smooth her wavy hair, and knew attraction when he saw it. She looked flustered, but in a good way. The icy-cool doctor melted in his embrace. Interesting. Wow, and if his thudding heart was anything to go by, so did he.

  Jake rubbed his lips together, tasting her lip gloss. “Strawberry?”

  She looked at him before the others, and shrank further away from the bed. “Well, it seems you are doing just fine. I’m going to reduce the morphine. Perhaps you’ve had too much.”

  Jake smirked and refocused his vision on his boss.

  “I’m relieved you’re back in the land of the living,” Drayton said.

  “Henry is a fucking traitor. That bastard stood right over me, and shot me.”

  Drayton placed one hand on his hip and rubbed his beard as his eyes rolled to the left.

  Jake twisted and held his chest as pain ripped through his muscles. Standing out of his line of vision—Ben Steel.

  “Steel. You look good, sir.”

  When he had left for Mauritius, he knew Steel was recovering and awake, but he hadn’t had time to see the man. Now Steel stood with his razor-sharp eyes peering at him as he scratched his neat gray moustache.