by Kathryn Moon
“It isn’t that I don’t appreciate the wooing,” I said, to soothe his shock. “Only that maybe it’s working too well.”
His face was a little sharper with those blacked-out eyes, as if his cheekbones had slid higher. He leaned in, the hand that rested on the bench behind me sliding up the base of my spine to my waist and holding my chest to his.
“Close your eyes, mon coeur,” Auguste whispered, lips dragging over my cheek. But my eyes had already fallen shut with those pinpoints of pressure from his fingers on my back, the strength there nearly drawing a swoon out of me.
“There is something I want from you,” Auguste said. “And I don’t want you to give it lightly.”
“You can have it, whatever it is,” I said, shrugging.
Auguste huffed against my cheek. “Just a taste,” he said, although it might have been to himself.
One cool hand cupped my cheek, and my eyes opened just long enough to catch a glimpse of his mouth, lips parted and two white fangs peeking out. Then we were kissing. I wanted to crawl into his lap. I think I might have actually tried, but his hand tightened on my waist, holding me still. He drew my bottom lip between his, sucking gently until I was whimpering, wanting more and much faster. Before I could really demand anything, I felt the scrape of his fangs over the inside of my lip and the bitter tang of blood joined the still sweet taste in my mouth.
We both moaned, and either I jumped to press myself against him or Auguste lifted me closer. I twisted over his lap, delighted to already find him growing stiff, hardening quickly as I ground myself against him and he licked away every delicate wisp of blood from my lip.
When he drew away from the kiss, we were standing, although I hadn’t felt the shift.
“Upstairs,” he rasped, and his eyes were blacker than ever.
I nearly argued. I wanted him now. But Auguste lifted me over the bench and turned my back to him, directing me forward, our feet tangling in my skirt.
“I have until dawn to enjoy you, and I want to take every second,” Auguste said. “Go on.”
I would have run the entire way back to my room, but despite Auguste’s urging touches, he was equally distracting from the goal. By the time we made it to the first landing of the service stairs, his arm was wrapped around me, palm cupping at my breast through the dress, mouth sucking and nipping carefully along my neck. I sagged back against his chest as he scraped his nails over my nipple.
“Please,” I hissed. “Here’s just as good.”
My experience said staircases were a terrible place for sex, but my experience also said that Auguste had me wound high enough that it really wouldn’t matter until I was investigating my new bruises by daylight tomorrow.
“Sweet girl,” Auguste purred in my ear before his cool hand slid into the low collar of my dress, hand gripping my breast tight. “I plan on having my own feast before I take you.” His tongue flicked out against my earlobe, and I rolled my hips back against his stiff cock.
“But you’re ready,” I said, grimacing at the plaintive whine in my voice.
“I’m hungry,” he growled, rutting back at me, then he scooped me up off my feet and ran up the next flight of stairs.
I twisted in his hold, nuzzling into his neck, gulping in deep breaths of his scent, dry and musty like fallen leaves. “Another flight up and to the left,” I said, and then occupied my lips with the task of torturing Auguste, kissing and licking his throat. I snapped at his skin with my teeth and he grunted, arms clutching me tighter as he nearly tripped on the last step.
“Underwood was right about you,” Auguste growled out.
“Dreadfully wanton?” I guessed.
“Too good to be true,” Auguste said. “Which door?”
I pointed to my door, and he rushed us inside. There was a fire going in the hearth already, and sparks burst from the wood as Auguste kicked the door shut behind us. He took me right to the bed, laying me down on the coverlet as if I were light as air. When I reached up for the straps of the dress, no longer caring if I did tear the thing as long as it was off and Auguste was touching me, his hands lifted to stop mine.
I narrowed my eyes at him, and he grinned, those bright white fangs glinting at me. “I’m not sure what I think of a man with so much patience,” I said, my mouth running ahead of my brain as usual.
He laughed, crawling up onto the bed to cover me, my back pressed flat to the mattress.
“I am over 300 years old,” Auguste said, bending his head and kissing my jaw and then my neck as I stretched it for him, moving down to my collarbone. “If I had not learned patience by now, I would not still be alive. Besides, desire flavors the blood beautifully.”
He kissed my shoulder, pushing one strap down, leaving soft wet presses over every inch of skin, even as I squirmed beneath him. His knees were on either side of my hips, pinning my legs so all I could do was twist my thighs together for the faintest relief.
“Put your hand under my dress, and you’ll find that desire is not an issue,” I rasped.
I arched my back, and Auguste laughed, plucking down the fabric of the dress to reveal one breast. When his mouth wrapped around my pink, begging nipple, I braced myself, waiting for the sting of his bite. Instead, I found myself melting, turning soft as he suckled and licked and kissed, working his way out in a slow spiral over my skin, then back in again as his hands massaged at my ribs and the undersides of my breasts. I scratched my fingers into his hair, finally relaxing, letting my eyes fall shut.
He struck, quick and sharp, and I shouted at the lightning bright sting of his fangs sinking in, the lower line of his teeth holding me in place for the bite. I felt electrified, my eyes wide open and staring up at the roof of my bed. But when his fangs withdrew and his tongue began to lap and suck, I sagged again.
“Oh god,” I whispered, feeling him drawing on the wound and an answering tug pulling up directly from between my legs. “Oh god, Auguste.”
He hummed, the sound vibrating into my sensitive flesh and making me shiver. He lapped with small licks over my skin before drawing back, sliding the other half of my dress down, and starting over again with the other breast. This time, I was urging him on, curving my spine and digging my fingers into his hair to hold him fast to me. The second bite hurt as much as the first, but already my body had learned to love the ache, begging for the release that followed as he drank from the wound.
He cleaned the bite with sweeps of his tongue and lifted himself off of me. His mouth was bright red, and so was his tongue as it peeked out, cleaning away every trace of me around his mouth. He reached up and took my left hand out of his hair, unfolding my fingers and kissing my palm.
“Please,” I said, trying to part my legs and finding them still trapped between his. He kissed and sucked at the tip of each finger, letting me brush over his fangs, and staring up into that full black gaze with just the thinnest sliver of blue at the edge was like staring up at the moon in the dead of winter. “I want more,” I begged. My chest was tight, and my breaths were short, heat and wetness pooling at my center.
Auguste’s teeth grazed down my index finger to the soft flesh crossing to my thumb. This time when he bit, I screamed. It felt like fire, and I tried to wrestle away, but his hand held me fast, probably keeping me from tearing my own skin as I tried to pull away. When he drew on the thin flesh with a deep pull of his lips, tongue caressing the skin, I felt it all the way down to my toes and my eyes fell shut with a shaky sigh.
“All right?” he asked, pulling away for a moment before sucking again and making me whimper. All the burn vanished under his cool mouth.
“More,” I whispered.
He chuckled, cleaning the bite on my hand that throbbed and echoed the beat of my pulse straight down into my cunt. “Roll over,” he said. He pushed up off the bed, and I blinked at the sight of him.
“You’re still wearing the apron,” I said, a giggle rising up in my throat. Even better, the apron was tented obscenely at me. I looked down at
my lap and found flour caked over the skirt of my dress. Pity, although I was past the point of caring what happened to the dress for the night.
Auguste grinned, quickly undoing the ties and letting the apron drop to the floor.
“Shirt too,” I said, testing the waters. How many instructions would I be allowed to give?
He raised an eyebrow. “Roll over like a good girl, and you’ll find my hand between your legs before I take the next bite.”
I rolled over immediately. I could try to win power another time. For now, I only wanted relief. But I heard a little rustle of fabric, and when I glanced over my shoulder, Auguste was peeling his shirt off his arms, revealing dark hair across his pale chest and a tight stomach with a beautiful cut of muscle at his hips.
“Happy?” he asked, and I nodded, beaming at him. “Pull your arms free of the dress.”
I did and bit my lip as his fingers worked at the buttons running down my back. He peeled me out of the dress, taking every excuse to let his hands run over my skin, fingertips teasing at my hip bones and ass and thighs until I was naked on the bed and the dress was sliding with a hiss down to the floorboards. I stretched on the mattress, trying to work out some of the tension, trying to find a little friction.
“You’re exquisite,” Auguste said. This time when he joined me on the bed, he parted my legs to fit between them.
“You’re taking too long,” I answered, flashing him my grin.
The suggestion didn’t change Auguste’s pace. If anything, he slowed down, taking even more time as he drew patterns on the skin of my back with the tip of his tongue. When I tried to relieve the ache in my clit against the top of the bed, Auguste cupped his hands around the backs of my thighs, holding me still. He kissed and nibbled over the round of my ass, and his thumbs stroked at the crease of my thigh, just avoiding touching the swollen lips of my pussy. I whimpered and begged against my fists as his mouth moved down my legs.
“Please, please, please,” I chanted. There were frustrated tears in the corners of my eyes and a cramp starting in my belly. I squeaked as Auguste licked behind my knee, my foot kicking against the mattress. His right hand slid suddenly under me, rubbing over my swollen flesh and catching at the fluid that pooled beneath me, the pair of us moaning.
“You’re soaking the bed,” Auguste growled out.
“I told you,” I answered in a smaller, broken growl of my own.
“Merde,” Auguste hissed, pressing a finger up inside of me. We both heard the wet slide of the touch, and I immediately began to move myself on his hand, taking advantage of every second he let me. When he pushed another finger inside, I sobbed in relief. Finally, finally.
“Don’t stop,” I said, nearly shouted, so afraid he would change his mind.
He sucked at my pulse, moving his free hand to keep my leg from kicking again as he pumped inside of me with the other. I knew what was coming, but I was too focused on his fingers fucking into me to worry about the approaching bite. The telltale bright tingle of pleasure was building inside of me, my lips falling open and small, aching cries falling out.
When he pulled his hand free and sank his fangs into my vein, I cursed and thrashed. Auguste snatched my flying hands, keeping them tight in his grip, my body bowed back so he could drink and hold me still all at once.
“You prick!” I snarled, even as he soothed over the bite. There was still an answering sensation in my cunt, but it wasn’t enough, not to push me over the edge I’d been careening toward just a moment ago.
He pulled away laughing and rolled me onto my back, pushing me farther up the bed and throwing my squirming legs over his shoulder. I grabbed onto his hair and pulled hard, but Auguste’s grin only grew wider.
“Well Underwood failed to mention this,” he said.
“Auguste, no more teasing,” I said, my voice breaking. “I can’t take it.”
His face sobered, and he bent his head, kissing just below my belly button. “All right, mon coeur. No more teasing.”
My sigh was watery as Auguste finally took pity on me, his fingers pushing in again, slow but steady. His mouth landed on my clit, tongue flicking out and swirling with a clear purpose. I didn’t release my grip on his hair, I wasn’t giving him a chance to deny me again. I needed to come. No one had ever taken this much time working me up. I’d never even had the chance before. And while it was wonderful and might be fun another night to let Auguste tease me to his heart’s content, the week had felt like one long game of foreplay while I was alone.
“Like that,” I said as Auguste zeroed in on a spot that made me clench and tremble around his fingers. “Like that, please don’t stop. Yes, yes, yes.”
His touch curled inside of me, pressing up and catching at another delicate place that left me wordless and arching up, lightning thrills running through me.
“Oh fuck, Auguste!”
I came, and there was a burst of wet heat but it was me, soaking Auguste’s hands and lips. I felt a scratch against the lips of my sex, and then Auguste was nuzzling at the crease of my hip for a beat. His fangs weren’t painful this time, not as they had been before. Now that sudden jolting stab was one of ecstasy, and I gripped the back of his neck tight. Every draw of blood seemed to be another echo of my orgasm, and I gasped with each mouthful he took, shuddering on the bed, until he was sated and his fingers inside me were still.
“Sweet girl,” Auguste said, but there was something dark in his tone. He sat up, and I could see him staring at me, at the mess I’d made. He drew his fingers out of me and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean.
“Does that feed you too?” I asked, surprised.
Auguste grinned at me. “It feeds my ego,” he said, petting at my wet flesh. “Are you satisfied, mon coeur?”
It took me very little time to think of my answer. It was a relief to finally come, but my body remained simmering.
“No,” I said, watching as Auguste’s eyes widened. I pushed back on his shoulders until he was falling back onto his elbows. There was a great deal to appreciate about Auguste, shirtless and shocked on my bed, but my eyes narrowed in on the still very present erection tucked away in his trousers, and I went immediately for the buttons.
“Don’t misunderstand,” I said, fiddling with Auguste’s pants until they were down to his knees. His cock stood proudly, and I was fairly sure that all the blood I’d given him thus far had headed straight in that direction. He was longer than most and beautifully girthy, and I couldn’t wait to feel him inside of me. “That was wonderful. And now I want more.”
“Esther,” he started, and then his mouth dropped open as I took him in my hand and settled myself over him, pressing his stiff length to where I was dripping from release. I slid myself against him, coating him in my own fluid. He sat up, reaching for my hips, and I caught his wrists, pushing them back to the bed.
“No,” I said, giving him a narrow-eyed glare. “You’ve had your fun.”
As soon as he was coated enough to slip against me, I released one of Auguste’s hands to line myself above him and sink down onto his cock. Our mouths both fell loose with chorused moans as he filled me, my body welcoming him gladly.
“Mon dieu,” he muttered, eyes squeezing shut as his hips lifted, filling me up and nudging high inside me, drawing a whimper out. “Esther, you don’t know how long it’s been.”
“Can you last?” I asked, already starting to rock in place, placing my hands down on his chest. I felt like a reined horse, wanting to bolt forward. But I didn’t want the ride to end too quickly.
Auguste’s eyes opened at that, fangs pressing into his bottom lip. “As long as you need,” he said, tension scratching in his voice.
That was enough for me. I started off quick and hard, bouncing and rushing to any finish line I might find. To Auguste’s credit, he met me at every thrust, both of us gasping and grunting. My skin slapped against his pelvic bone, stars bursting behind my eyes with every bit of contact. Auguste’s knees braced me at my
back, his feet pushing against the mattress as he rutted up inside of me.
“Christ,” he growled. “What a creature.”
His free hand reached up, cupping and squeezing my breast, and I released the hand I’d been pinning down, trusting him not to steal control now.
“Oh god, yes,” I moaned as he took the opportunity to play at my clit. There was no teasing now. He was urging me to an orgasm. When it came, faster than I expected and blindingly good, he held still, letting me ride it out without following suit.
I relaxed as I came down, and Auguste sat up, circling me with his arms and kicking his legs free of his pants.
“More, sweet girl?” he asked.
“More,” I said, my voice hoarse.
We met in a kiss as Auguste shifted us just enough that he could take over the motion, thrusting up as I clung to his shoulders. I scratched my tongue on his fangs and pressed it to his own, reveling in the way he shuddered against me, fucking me faster and harder than before. I bit hard at his lip, and Auguste snarled and pinned me to the bed.
With Dr. Underwood and Mr. Tanner, I had barely been able to catch my breath long enough to think of how to please them. This was different. Even as Auguste pressed me flat, his hips rolling and snapping into mine, I found ways of drawing him further to the edge. I scratched my nails over his back, and he pulled away from the kiss, his eyes completely black and nostrils flared.
“Bite,” I said, turning my head to bare my throat.
He didn’t hesitate, simply dove down, burying his fangs into my neck and grinding himself inside of me until I was fluttering and shouting, the drumming beat of my orgasm in time with the drinking pulls he took from my neck. There was no familiar wet heat inside of me, but he roared against my skin like any other man might at his finish and sagged against me after, purring as I stroked down his back and he lapped at the wound on my neck.
“I’m satisfied,” I whispered, already feeling my eyes sagging.