My legs wrapped around him, and he allowed me to roll us over. I pulled up just enough to slip a hand between us and line him up at my wet entrance. He was thick and long, and I had to slowly ease back to get him inside me. It was insane how long he was, and it was painful, yes, but a strange kind of pain, the kind that was mixed with pleasure.
Desire rolled through me, had this entire time, especially with Maxwell’s hands on my breasts, his fingers tweaking my nipples just enough to make me want to squirm with delight. Now, though, his hands shifted to my hips, and I could tell he wanted to move beneath me, that he was ready.
So was I.
My body close to his, I was basically lying on top of him, and I rocked back and forth on his cock. It hurt at first, and I didn’t move much in the beginning, but as my walls adjusted to his girth and length, slowly, I began to pick up speed.
“Open your eyes,” Maxwell murmured.
I hadn’t even realized I had shut them, but I opened them now. He was staring at me, and he brushed back my hair, and something about the tenderness of the gesture broke me.
We might have married to save me, but I wanted this, wanted him, wanted the marriage.
It was fake, I had to remind myself, but at this moment, it was everything.
My lips sought his for a kiss that craved his soul—if he still had one. It left me breathless and even more needy, and I had to have more.
With a moan, I pushed off his chest, so I was sitting on him, and I rode up and down on his cock. His grip on my hips tightened, and he bucked up and down in time to my movements, and it didn't take long at all for me to orgasm again. Beneath me, his legs twitched, and he shuddered. I threw back my head, enjoying the waves of pleasure washing over me, and Maxwell sat up, holding me tight against him, his cock still buried inside me. His lips pressed against my exposed neck, and at that moment, I would have allowed him to bite me.
But he didn’t.
Instead of taking my blood, he took something else from me.
Not just my virginity.
But my heart and soul too.
7
Experiencing Maxwell's arms around me was the greatest feeling in the world, and I felt safe, as if the rest of the world didn't even exist. We couldn't be hurt because no one else was there. He didn't need to protect me because none could harm either of us.
But that wasn’t the reality of our situation. Not in the slightest.
“I need to spread the word about our nuptials,” Maxwell said.
“You managed to send off your goons to spirit away my family, but you didn’t alert Viktor to our saying ‘I do?’”
“Technically, we didn’t say ‘I do,’” he reminded me, “and for as long as we’re married, your family is my family.”
I drew away from him, sitting next to him. I curled up with my legs propped up, my arms wrapped around my knees. Even though his vampire body was cooler than my own, we had generated more than a little heat, and I felt freezing apart from him. The reminder that our marriage was a fake, that it would be dissolved, only served to reinforce what a dangerous game we were playing.
“And goons?” he added with a quirk to his lips that made my stomach flip.
I shrugged. “Would you prefer I said soldiers? Caporegime?”
To my amazement, Maxwell chuckled, the sound low, sexy, dark, and deep.
"A vampire wedding is not officially over until the consummation," he explained.
“Yes, but you could have spread word. By the time it would have reached Viktor, it would have been true.”
“It takes minutes for vampire news to spread,” he said dryly. “You don’t know what time it is, do you?”
I slowly shook my head.
He pointed to the clock on the nightstand.
We had been up here for two hours.
I gaped at him. How had that much time passed?
His fingers trailed up and down my back. It tickled but also sent tendrils of pleasure and craving through me. It made me feel desired and, to some extent, safe.
Nestled here in our marital bed, no one could harm me.
“You will stay here, with me,” Maxwell said in a tone that broached no argument.
I could only nod. After all, I had asked for his protection, and he had granted it. Of course I would stay here.
“I will have clothes brought to you. You need a coat and… More,” he said, his voice thick, the word husky, and I flushed as his gaze wandered over my body.
My husband was checking me out.
“Ah, um, you said the ball was now our reception,” I said as I scrambled out of the bed. It was soft, to the point that you could sink into it, so luxurious. It was unlike any bed I had ever slept in before.
Would I sleep in it?
Would he?
“Shouldn’t we go back to it?” I asked, trying to right my thoughts.
“Yes, indeed,” he murmured.
He stretched, his body long and lean and muscular. With ease, he left the bed behind, and I found myself gawking as he dressed. As his long, skilled fingers buttoned his shirt from the bottom up, I snapped out of my trance and began to dress.
When I was reaching for my zipper, he was there, zipping it for me. Then, he brought his left hand up across me to hold my right shoulder.
He turned to face me, and he kissed my temple. My eyes closed as I reached up to hold onto his arm. He had so much power within him, and I longed to take some of that power, to make it my own.
I was innocent and vulnerable, but together with him, I could become experienced and strong.
Maybe even powerful in my own right.
“Are you ready, tesoro mio?” he asked.
I wasn't sure what that meant. The other Italian had been easy enough to understand. Beautiful girl. Beautiful wife. You are sweet, or maybe how sweet you are. Mio cara… My dear, I thought, and if I had to guess, tesoro mio meant my treasure or something similar.
He was playing the part of my husband, maybe even rehearsing for downstairs because we must have everyone believe that we were wed, that it was for real.
As we approached the door, it opened for us. A servant was there.
"Wash the sheets," Maxwell instructed, and I glanced over. The bed sheets were wet with our juices and a bit of blood too. Although I had some experience with my fingers, nothing so large or thick as Maxwell's cock had been inside me before.
In fact…
“Where is the bathroom?” I asked Maxwell as we entered the hall.
He walked me there, and I took care of things and then splashed water on my face. No matter what I did with my hair, I looked like I had been thoroughly made love to.
If only it had been making love instead of just sex.
With a sigh, I returned to Maxwell. He escorted me down to the ballroom, and again the vampires cheered us, teasing us about how long our consummation had taken. We danced and kissed, but only after Maxwell sent a few out, most likely to spread the word.
It was only then that a thought occurred to me.
"Maxwell," I murmured in his ear, and he swept me into his arms, dancing, nodding so that I knew I could resume. "Won't Viktor think it suspicious that you are making sure he knows we are wed?"
“Do you think he’ll take it as a challenge?”
I bit my lower lip and nodded.
“He has to know that you are wed, and besides, I am not having my men go out and directly tell him or his men. He will learn about it through the grapevine, but he will learn about it fast.” Maxwell grinned, flashing his fangs. “Vampires are notoriously handsome, stunning, intelligent, wealthy, and, most of all, gossips.”
With nothing else to do, I forced myself to enjoy the reception as best as I could. I ate and drank, and when I was exhausted, which did not take long at all, Maxwell escorted me back to that bed. I fell asleep as soon as he tucked me in, and I did not wake until late in the morning.
Maxwell was not in bed with me.
Worse, I could tell from the i
ndentations of the silk sheets—or rather the lack of indentations—that he had not slept with me.
Life slowly fell into a routine. I ate my meals with Maxwell, and we would go on a tour of the estate. He showed me the many houses he owned. He even had an entire library. It was so much more than just this palace.
We did not sleep together again, even though I wished for that desperate, and my dreams were either tortuous longings filled with us together in bed or equally tortuous dreams about my sister being murdered or even more tortuous memories of happier times with my sister, when I would read to her or sing to her or when we would hunt for berries together.
Things we would never do again.
A week passed, and I thought maybe we had done it. Maybe I could return to work and start to become legitimate. I wouldn’t need to steal anymore, not if I had this massive roof over my head. Maxwell attended to my every need except sexual, and my family was safe.
Or so I thought.
The bedroom door opened with a bang. I had just stood from the bed, intent on getting dressed and ready for the day.
It wasn’t a maid who stood there but Maxwell, and his face… I’ll never forget the rage and hatred causing hard lines to appear on his forehead.
I swallowed hard. “What…”
“Your aunt,” he said shortly.
“Is she…”
"Drained. Every last drop."
My hands flew to my mouth, but nothing could prevent me from wailing. My heart felt as if it had been ripped from my body. How had this happened? How did Viktor even know about my aunt? He was going to go after Pierre next, wasn’t he? And then my parents.
And then me.
I had been a fool to think this was over.
A terrible sound filled my ears, and it took me a moment to realize the wailing was coming from me. Maxwell stood before me, forcing me to stand, but I couldn’t be consoled.
“You need to calm down,” he was saying over and over.
Because when has that ever helped a woman?
“My drinking your blood will allow me to help you,” he said. “I can give you peace—”
“No!” I shoved him away, only he wouldn’t let me, so I had my arms braced against his chest, trying to push back, but I was pinned between him and the side of the bed.
“Why are you so against me drinking your blood?” he demanded, his voice as sharp and harsh as mine.
A memory came to me. My blood being drained. The feeling of my growing weaker and weaker with every heartbeat. My blood rushing and pounding in my ear to then the deathly silence of nothing. The feeling of my skin tearing, ripping…
My hand came to my neck. After I had killed Magnus, I fled, and I stumbled to the nearest hospital. There, a nurse pulled me aside and applied something to my neck. The wound had closed immediately. I couldn’t recall if I thanked her, paid her, but I rushed out of there, bought this dress, and immediately bought a plane ticket to come here.
I hadn’t brought toiletries. I hadn’t brought any other clothes.
I hadn’t looked back.
PTSD. Maybe that was what was causing me to freak out because I knew that there was no reason for me to be afraid of Maxwell. He wouldn’t hurt me.
Not physically.
Emotionally…
But that was on me, not him.
And I was being far too emotional right now.
“It’s because of Magnus, isn’t it?” Maxwell asked harshly.
“I…” I sat down on the bed and stared at Maxwell’s chest. As always, he was wearing a suit. This time, he was wearing ouroboros cufflinks. The golden necklace I had refused before was on the desk opposite the bed, but I hadn’t put it on. As I wasn’t leaving the grounds without Maxwell, as I wasn’t going to leave the grounds with him either, I saw no point in wearing them. Wife should mean more than Chosen, shouldn’t it?
Apparently not.
“He… He drank my blood. A lot of it. And something happened to him. Blood should strengthen a vampire, but he… he grew weaker. Maxwell, he was so weak that a regular knife killed him. It shouldn’t have…”
8
“Blood can’t weaken a vampire,” Maxwell said.
I blew out a breath. “Of course you wouldn’t believe me, but look.”
I maneuvered away from him and crossed over to the desk. In the top drawer, I retrieved my knife. With it still shut, I tossed it to Maxwell, who caught it easily and flicked it open. He examined it critically.
“It’s unremarkable,” he said dryly.
“It shouldn’t have—”
“It didn’t kill Magnus.”
“It did,” I hissed. “If it hadn’t, if I hadn’t killed him, Amber and Aunt Petunia would still be alive! Viktor wouldn’t have gone after me if I—”
“Magnus is dead. I don’t deny that, and yes, Viktor blames you—”
"Well, then!" I threw up my arms in frustration.
“I need proof.”
“Proof?” I repeated, stunned. “What do you want me to do? Have you suck my blood, and I knife you?”
He said nothing.
“No, I won’t do that to you or anyone else. No. I refuse.”
We stood there, my chest heaving, him seemingly unaffected. A staredown. I had no chance of winning, of course, but I glowered anyhow, not stopping when I blinked. Just glaring at him as I crossed my arms.
But my thoughts drifted to what I had said, to Aunt Petunia being alive if not for me, and I began to tremble.
“You’re shaking,” Maxwell murmured, and he closed the distance in the blink of an eye, rubbing my arms. He hadn’t shown much affection at all physically, not since our wedding night, and I gaped at him, unsure what to do. What I wanted was much clearer, but when he slowly pressed his lips to mine, I gave in. I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung to him as if he were the anchor that would keep my beaten down raft from running aground.
His arms lifted me, and I wrapped my legs around him. In two steps, he carried me over to the bed, laying me down. I shimmied out of my clothes as he watched, and when he moved to remove his coat, I didn't let him. Instead, I pushed it off, pressing my breasts against his clothed chest in the process. Was it my imagination, or had he sucked in a breath?
Not willing to wait to decipher what might not have even been there, I unbuttoned his shirt, kissing every inch of the exposed skin.
When it was unbuttoned, Maxwell didn’t let me remove the shirt, and it was so incredibly sexy to have his silk shirt brush against my thighs as his lips, tongue, and teeth kissed, licked, and nipped my skin. I so badly wanted him, to feel him inside me—whether it was his cock, his fingers, his tongue, but he drew back.
Feeling vulnerable and bereft, I lifted up, my hands on the bed behind me, and I sucked in a breath as he picked up the knife. It was still open, and he pricked his finger on the tip. Slowly, he brought the knife to my knee, and he gently teased the tip up my thigh, moving the blade closer toward the inside.
“Some like to partake in a little something called bloodplay,” he murmured, his voice like honey, sweet, but also like chestnuts, dark. “It can be very… erotic. Especially for vampires and their…” His gaze lifted to capture mine. “Human lovers.”
Oh, me. Oh, my. I didn’t think I could handle this.
“Can I?” he asked.
My body quivered. I could hardly think with him looking at me like that.
“Can you what?” I whispered. Maybe I imagined the question. I was so breathless I couldn’t hear it.
“Can I lick your blood? Lick. Not suck.”
As if there’s a difference. I knew what he was doing. He was seducing me, hoping I would allow him to do what he wanted even though he had already heard no from me.
I should refuse him again.
But the beginning of a dark plan was coming to mind.
Viktor was toying with him.
I needed leverage.
Maxwell and I had to bring him down by any means necessary.
/> So I nodded.
The nip from the knife was barely anything, a flash of pain that lasted but a second, and then I felt Maxwell’s tongue lick up my leg, reaching the wound, the tiny rivet of blood. He lapped it up, and then he groaned, and I knew he wanted more.
“Whatever… Whatever you need,” I told him, confused and bewildered at how much his tongue licking my life essence was turning me on, but he indulged me even as he indulged himself, and he cut again, slightly, licking my blood as his fingers found my clit, and when he pinched slightly, I moaned. He licked more and fingered me, and I gave over to the darkness, to the pleasures, and I came hard.
Maxwell pulled away from me, and I took over, drunk on the power of sex, and I pushed him down onto the bed. He allowed me to do as I wished, and right now, I wanted him to feel pleasure from my mouth. I kissed and licked my way down his chest, more than a little annoyed when I realized he was still wearing pants. I went to undo them when I realized Maxwell was just lying there.
Something was wrong.
I drew back, frightened, worried.
“M-Maxwell?” I stammered.
He tried to sit up and then managed it. His face was gray. Normally, his skin wasn’t ashen at all, but now it was.
Fear had my heart pounding as if ready to burst.
But then, alongside that fear, came another powerful emotion.
The drive for revenge.
“Are you so unwilling to believe now?” I asked, my tone almost cold.
Maxwell exhaled. “I need a moment,” he murmured, and he left the room. Not five seconds later, he returned, much more composed. He wiped his mouth, but I spied the blood on his hand. The vampire—my vampire husband—followed my gaze, and he licked the blood.
“Better?” I asked.
He nodded.
Still a man of few words. I wanted to know everything about his past, his future, what he had gained over the long years of his life, what he wished to acquire yet, but so far, we had not discussed any of that.
Fatal Cravings: Immortal Keeper Vampire Paranormal Romance Series Page 5