by Mara Leigh
“You feel so good inside,” he says while looking into my eyes. “So soft and warm and so fucking strong when you squeeze around me.”
With those words I contract my inner walls and relish the reaction on his face, in his breath, and then he increases the speed of his plunging along with the pressure on my clit.
Another orgasm explodes, my inner contractions coming so fast and hard I fear his fingers might get trapped inside me—or break—but he continues his inner stroking as aftershocks buck my hips and my muscles try to pull his fingers in farther.
And still I want more. I want his entire fist, his arm. But as much as I want that, I crave his cock.
He rises and releases my arms. Still bound at the wrists, they drop over his head as he lifts and carries me to the cushioned chaise longue. He’s trapped for a moment in the loop of my arms and I tug to pull him forward into a kiss, but he turns his head to the side and slips through my arms to press tiny kisses on my chest instead.
His tongue traces my collarbones, then laps lower, covering my body again with delicious kisses and licks that leave my skin coated in his saliva.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” he growls into my belly.
“Yes. Please. Now.” I reach down and stroke his hair as I bend my knees and let them flop to the sides, opening myself to him. “Take off your clothes. I want to see you.”
He shifts one of my feet to the ground, kneels one leg between mine and pushes my arms over my head as he bends to capture my lips in a kiss.
His kiss is gentle but demanding, his lips tasting mine, then he captures my tongue when it ventures into his territory, tugging my fleshy organ so firmly that I feel the pressure in my clit.
In all the times I’ve fantasized about sex with Pike, both in dreams and in nightmares, I could never have imagined anything like this. He tastes of salt and fire, of spice and maple, of blood.
I must have nicked him at some point because I taste a hint of his delicious nectar. My need is pounding, pulsing through every pore, through every cell in my body, and I arch into him, certain I’d float up off the chaise if his hand weren’t pinning down my arms, if his strong leg wasn’t pressed against mine.
His fingers stroke between my legs again, slowly teasing, then I feel the pressure and heat of his cock at my entrance. I wish he’d undressed, I want to feel his skin and hard muscles against me, but I’m not about to do anything at this point that will delay what my body craves most.
His hips press forward, the head of his cock barely breaching my entrance, but I cry out into our kiss, feeling the sharp stab of penetration. We must have been kissing long enough for my body to recover from his fingers, but I’m so aroused and slick, that he enters easily.
Easily, but slowly. Slow enough that I feel every millimeter of his progress in a new and wonderful way, as I anticipate how it will feel to have him fully seated inside me. His cock has more girth than Gray’s, and he stretches me as he makes slow headway, going deeper inside me than I knew I had space for.
But before he gets in all the way, he pulls back, drawing out just as slowly as he moved in, and I moan into his open mouth. His tongue slides slowly against mine as he pushes forward again, still slowly, but faster and deeper than the first time, and my muscles flutter around him, urging his thickness forward with as much hunger as I’ve ever known.
This slow-paced penetration continues as we continue to kiss, and it’s so amazing I forget everything else. I forget where we are, what’s happening downstairs, I forget who I am. My only focus is on the connections between us, our mouths and our genitals, the power and pleasure divine.
I’ve lost count of how many times he’s slowly eased his massive girth inside me and then just as slowly withdrawn it again, each pass as delicious as the last, each time stuffing me beyond what seems possible, but at the same time making me want even more. Each slow drive seems to take minutes, hours, years, and it’s torture—a magnificent torture. I don’t want it to end, but I want to feel him pounding hard inside me too.
Breaking our kiss, he changes his angle, driving each stroke even deeper now, filling me with such glorious pressure.
He looks into my eyes. I gasp as joy floats through me. The connection between us is so powerful—so unexpected. Pike’s lovemaking is nothing like I ever imagined it would be.
My hands fall onto his shoulders and I realize that they’re no longer bound, and I relish the sensation of his rippling muscles underneath my palms and fingers as I urge him on, as if he’s a beast under my control, even though he’s the one on top.
Then as if he’s reading my mind, he flips us both, shifting our positions in one fluid motion that leaves him half-reclined on the chaise, and me straddling his lap. I increase our pace, using my legs and back and gravity to pull him in deeper, to build friction, to generate blinding pleasure.
He takes hold of my hips. “Not so fast,” he growls. “I want this to last. I want to feel every moment of this as I worship you.”
His words explode something inside my heart. How could I ever have feared this man? How did I not always see the wounded and tender soul beneath the rough and intimidating exterior?
The scent and sound of his coursing blood is enticing, and I lick my lips, feeling my fangs emerge beyond my control. His pupils widen. I take it as an invitation.
Bending forward, I take his vein. As the first hot spurts of blood reach my throat I feel the stab of his bite. And the pull between us grows stronger. My vision turns red as my ravenous body takes his, takes his completely, and he takes mine in return.
The sharp pang of pain at my throat is quickly replaced by ecstasy beyond comprehension. As he pulls blood from my vein it’s even better than if he were sucking on my clit. I drink from him even harder. His blood is like fire in my throat, and drives my body to move forcefully above his, to draw him even deeper inside me like I’m expanding to accommodate every last millimeter that he has to give.
Our orgasms erupt together as blood flows between us, and I can see our futures, our pasts. I can sense every individual cell in his blood entering my own stream, and at the same time his semen strikes inside me, as powerful and intoxicating as his blood.
Our fangs withdraw simultaneously and I shake as the final contractions of my climax pulse inside me. I lick my lips and rest my body on top of his. I’m still impaled on his thick cock, and I never imagined I could feel so connected to someone—someone else, that is.
But as much as I love Rock and Gray—and Colton if he’ll have me—the act Pike and I just performed, the lovemaking and feeding, built something new. Something powerful. Something I’ve never felt before. There is no question: I can no longer survive without Pike. I need him like I need my heart to pump blood.
I rest against him, loving how his chest rises beneath mine, how I can feel the ridges of his scarred skin even through his T-shirt.
I want to stay like this forever, naked on his chest, in his arms, his cock buried inside me. I want to live like this. I never want to move again, even if we’re both incinerated by the sun when it rises.
Chapter 14
Colton
I take Chelle’s pulse for the tenth time. It’s excessive to check so often, but making sure she’s still alive is at least doing something. It’s been steady and normal each time I’ve checked, which doesn’t seem possible given what I witnessed—Selina plunging her fangs into the woman’s neck and drinking.
Chelle didn’t even cry out when pierced, and based on her expression, she enjoyed feeding Selina and fell asleep happy. So weird. Rock insists it’s always like that and not some kinky fetish of Chelle’s. She claimed she’s never fed a vampire before, and I need to reconfirm this when—if—she wakes.
And speaking of kinky fetishes, I got hard when I was watching Selina feed. Assuming it wasn’t some kind of mind control trick, I don’t even want to think what that says about me.
I drop into the leather chair I pulled over so that I could stay close by the
waitress as she slept on the same couch where I was unconscious earlier. Rock stands about ten feet away and, even though I’m a big man and trained in hand-to-hand combat, his massive height and size are intimidating.
It’s not like I’ve never noticed that Rock was big before, but somehow, out of the context of his bar and trapped in this basement with him, the man’s name suits him even better, and he seems to have grown a foot both in height and girth.
Rock’s stubborn inability to see the truth about vampires is maddening, but I know which one of us would win if this argument turned physical. Not me. And in my experience, while fists can blow off steam, they rarely, if ever, solve disagreements.
He’s explained the whole feeding thing a few times, claiming that vampires are harmless to humans, and that we’d be living happily alongside each other if humans hadn’t overreacted when vampires were outed to humanity two decades ago.
I’ve heard these claims more than a few times. He’s answered all my questions with plausible answers, and I’m having trouble holding onto my grip on reality, the things I know to be true.
My hand covers my throat again, over the place where Selina fed.
I can’t believe she did that to me—not once but twice. I trusted her and my heart breaks that my trust was so misguided. Talk about blinded by love.
“So…” I shake my head “…you’re saying I might have been bitten by a vampire before Selina, and not even know it?”
Rock shrugs. “It’s possible, yeah. Like I said, humans and vampires have coexisted for millennia.”
“Because they mess with our minds.” I lean back in the chair.
“They can’t implant thoughts.” Rock tips his head to the side. “If that’s what you’re suggesting.”
Frustration builds inside me. Rock doesn’t get it. “But you’ve already admitted that they don’t ask permission to feed and then they make us forget that it happened!”
“You’re right.” He nods. “The ethics are a little murky. But few things in the world are strictly black or white.”
Rock might not know black from white, right from wrong, but I do. He can call things gray or murky all he wants, but I think it’s important to stand up for what you believe, for what’s right, and good should always win against evil.
But…is it possible that I’m on the wrong side of this particular issue?
“Does…” I shake my head. “I have so many questions.”
“Just take them one by one,” Rock says. “I’ll tell you everything I can.”
“Does she…does Selina drink your blood?”
He shakes his head.
“Why not?” I lean forward, hands on my knees. “I mean, she needs blood to live, right? Why would she go out and feed from a stranger?”
“Feeding…” He draws a breath as if deciding how to answer. “It’s a very intimate act, especially between two vampires, especially if they’re in love. And….” He sighs, looking sad for a moment. “Because I can’t feed from her…” He shakes his head. “To be honest, I’m not sure why I haven’t asked Selina to take my vein. I guess I don’t like the idea of forgetting something that happens between us.”
“How do you know she hasn’t done it and not told you?”
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“I didn’t get a choice. She fed from me twice—that I know of.”
“True.” The big man just stands there, calm as anything, as if holding people hostage in his vampire buddy’s basement is an everyday occurrence.
“What are you going to do with me? Am I her blood slave now?” The idea, which should be horrific, doesn’t upset me as much as it should. Am I that infatuated with this woman—this vampire—that I’m willing to give up my freedom, my life?
“Blood slave?” Rock frowns and pushes himself off the wall. “Selina would never do that.”
“But she would lock me into a vampire’s lair!”
Rock drags another leather chair over to sit opposite me, near where Chelle is sleeping on the sofa, then he sits, looking relaxed, like none of this is bothering him at all, while I’m tense and probably look like a perp waiting for an interrogation.
Why am I the one who’s nervous and feeling guilty? I’m the one asking the questions.
“What happens now?” I ask. They can’t just let me go. “Do you plan to keep me trapped down here forever?”
“No.” Rock shakes his head vehemently. “Not a chance. No way would Selina hold you prisoner.”
“And yet…” I raise my hands off the arms of the chair “…here I am.”
“There’s something you should know about Selina.” Rock shifts forward and his chair creaks. “It’s her story to tell, not mine, but you should know at least some of what she’s been through.” He closes his eyes for a moment as if holding back tears.
“Selina was held captive by a sadistic vampire—for over a year,” he says softly. “She was starved, tortured, raped.” His throat seems to close around his words. Everything about Rock’s voice, his body language, tells me he’s speaking the truth, but it’s possible I’m being conned. Selina conned me into thinking she was human.
“When was this?” My question hurts coming out. Lies or not, Rock’s revelation caused me pain. Even now that I know what she is, I can’t shut off my feelings.
“She escaped from her captor about a month ago. Not long before you first came into the bar. I found her in the alley, starving, traumatized.” He swipes thick fingers over his cheeks to erase his falling tears.
“Did you know what she was?” I ask.
“Not at first. When I spotted her she was feeding, but it looked to me like the man was attacking her. I dragged him off her, thinking I was stopping a sexual assault, then quickly realized I’d interrupted her feeding.”
“You weren’t afraid of her?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve known vampires for cent—” he stops abruptly. “For a long time. And the vampires I’ve met, they’re some of the best folk I’ve known. Vampire cultures are somewhat different from human cultures, but in many ways they’re more civilized.”
“More civilized?” Every time I start to believe Rock, he says something absurd. “They live off human blood!”
He shrugs. “And humans eat meat. Vampires don’t need to kill humans to feed from them. Humans kill animals to feed.”
“Okay, okay. I’ve heard that argument before.” It’s a common theme in the vampire-rights groups. “This is a lot to take in.”
I brush my hand through my hair to think. “And is it part of this very civilized vampire culture to hold people against their will?” I fold my arms over my chest. “You said she was held prisoner too.”
Rock shakes his head, but then stops himself and it turns into a nod. “Kidnapping is certainly not part of the culture, but vampires have criminals too. The vampire who held Selina is the worst kind of evil and when caught he’ll be punished.”
I scoff.
He leans forward. “You know, it breaks Selina’s heart that you think she’s dangerous. Or that Gray is. Or vampires in general, for that matter. And holding you down here, for even these few hours? It’s Selina’s worst nightmare after what she’s gone through.”
Narrowing my eyes, I tip my head to the side, trying to convey skepticism, but what he’s saying rings true based on what I know of her.
“Selina cares about you,” the big man continues. “She’s falling in love with you—if she hasn’t already fallen.”
My chest tightens then expands as I absorb his words.
“And yet she’s sleeping with Gray,” I say feeling cruel, but maybe learning of her betrayal will help Rock see the truth. “Did you know that? She’s admitted it to me.”
I don’t get a reaction so I add, “Maybe she’s sleeping with you too?” I try to look angry when in fact I feel ill. A deep pot of jealousy has taken up residence in my guts, and it churns. I want to throw up.
I thought Selina cared for me. She’s claimed to love
me. But Rock didn’t deny either of my accusations, so she has at least two lovers.
“What kind of woman does that?” I shout. “Cheats. Cheats on you with each other. Cheats on me.”
“You ever heard the term polyamory?” Rock asks.
“You mean polygamy? Like in those rogue Mormon cults where the men marry little girls?”
He tips his head to the side. “No. In human cultures, it is true that polyamory often goes hand in hand with women suffering oppression or abuse.”
“With humans,” Rock continues, “it is more common to see one man take several wives, like they’re possessions, a sign of wealth and power, or to sire as many children as possible…but in vampire culture…it’s very different.
“Vampires—of all genders—often take more than one mate. They form loving families amongst a group of consenting adults.”
“Who all have sex with each other?” I say, aghast. “You mean like orgies?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. Sometimes. If they want to. Sure.” Rock’s cheeks heat. Either he’s lying or he’s ashamed. Maybe both.
“No,” he changes his tune suddenly. “The word orgy implies indiscriminate sex amongst strangers or acquaintances. Something just for pleasure, without emotions or love. Vampires do often have sex with more than one partner, and sometimes more than one partner at a time, but when they Mate it’s all about love.”
“Polyamory in vampire culture is pure and honest,” he continues earnestly. “Vampires recognize that it’s possible to love more than one person.”
“So you and Gray…”
“We both love her,” he finishes my sentence. “And we’re both okay with that. In fact, I’m happy she has Gray. He can give her…” His voice trails off mid-sentence. “Each of us fulfills something unique for Selina. She loves us both and we love her. Even if Gray won’t admit it.”
“So, with vampires it’s the females who take multiple partners, not the males?”
He shakes his head. “Not always. You should ask Gray more about that. But from what I’ve seen, the mated families can be any combination of male and female, but usually there is one central vampire, usually one whose power attracts the attention and love of the others.”
