The Forbidden Prince (Dracula's Bloodline Book 5)
Page 7
“Now, sure, sex drive is something powerful that you can’t repress or re-focus forever, but all that training and punishment re-shaped the sexual needs and sexual expression of many assassins. Insiders know we’re, well, whacked. The more carnage and mayhem clutter an assassin’s resume, the less he’ll be able to see more than that in a sexual partner—meat.”
Isolde extracts her hand from mine, and it hurts. My hand feels empty, pointless. I clench my jaw as she braces herself.
“I’ll stop, if you want.”
“No. Go on.” Her voice is softer than I expected.
Continuing is hard. By the way my cheeks burn, and by the unwillingness to do it I take it I’m experiencing shame, but there’s no way around it now.
“I actually never had experiences with women before I became a vampire. After all, I was only eighteen at the time Lord Dracula turned me. But vampirism comes with a great inclination for the carnal. We do feed on blood, after all. So needs and desires that I had repressed for the first eighteen years of my life bubbled to the surface, and eventually boiled over.” I bite my lip. “Lord Dracula sent me to help a witch once. She was a dark witch, her skin crawling with ancient drawings. She was very sensual, and she enjoyed being used by men. Multiple men at the same time.” I have to stop here.
“I’m sorry, Isolde. As much as I want to be honest with you all the way, I just can’t get into the details. You get the gist.”
“That’s why you look so young. Because you were turned into a vampire at eighteen.” She smiles warmly.
“After everything I told you, that’s what you got stuck on? My age?”
“No, I’m stuck on what you like in bed.”
I knit my eyebrows, stricken. I don’t know what to say.
She moves, and I think she’s standing up, but no. She lies down on the bed, compelling me to look at her.
“What are you doing?” My body stiffens.
“So, all in all, you enjoy using women,” she says, raising her hand and stroking her chest down to her breasts through the open neck of her shirt.
I shake my head. “Isolde, let’s not go there.”
“Oh, yes, let’s.”
I want to look away from her, but I can’t. The way the chocolate waves of her hair spread over the bed, the way she pushes aside the white shirt.
Damn. She’s exposing round white breasts to me, with pink little nipples that harden. My cock twitches.
“Isolde, I can’t believe you’re doing this.” You, my white pure dove.
“I haven’t been with a man of my own free will in a very long time, Tristan.” The sound of her voice, the look in her sparkling blue eyes that express so much melancholy and sadness, it’s driving me crazy. “I think it’s been twenty years. I miss intimacy, I miss carnal love.”
That cracks like thunder through my ears. “Twenty years?”
“There was the boy who took my virginity on prom night, then there was my first boyfriend, a law school student. Sadly, after two years of having a relationship with me he took an older woman. She was a lawyer and helped with his career, but I think there were things she did in bed, too, that didn’t even cross my mind, let alone my fantasy.”
“Isolde, I—”
“Then there was Mark.” Her face distorts in contempt. “I must admit, I don’t know much about how this is done, Tristan. It’s been too long, and my experiences too few. But I know I want to feel the hands of a man I truly desire before I leave this world for good.”
“You won’t leave this world anytime soon.”
She shakes her head, that shiny mane of chocolate hair rippling beautifully in the light seeping in between the curtains. “I feel that I will, and there’s no way you can promise me life, Tristan. I mean, you can promise it, but you can’t make any guarantees.”
Yes, I can, I want to say, but my lips are glued together. She’s sunk her hand inside her panties, stroking herself in a way that is clearly instinctual and natural. She must have relaxed a bit too much through the hypnosis and mental manipulation I used to help her lose tension. She stares straight into my face, blinking slowly.
In her mind, it’s me who’s working on her. She seems drunk, and that’s always been a trigger for me. I have filthy desires of taking drunken women that offer themselves like dirty wantons. But I don’t want to use Isolde like that, I would never forgive myself. I have to look away.
But I can’t. I force myself to keep looking her in the face at least, and stop my eyes from slipping down her body, to those perky virgin-like breasts and the way she works on herself. In the end, I lose the battle.
I stare speechless as my white sweet dove masturbates, those perky breasts now quivering as her hand goes faster and rougher on her sex. My cock grows like crazy. I grab it over my pants to keep it in check.
“Stop, woman, you’re putting yourself in danger.” Great danger, I’m a brute with women, I use them and humiliate them, that’s all that turns me on. I do it rarely, but when I do, I fuck them so hard they faint. I don’t even want to imagine doing that to Isolde, but it looks like she relishes the fantasy.
“I want you to take me, Tristan, roughly, I want to feel your hard manhood pierce me hard.”
Sweet Jesus.
“You like it only as long as it’s a fantasy, you won’t like me doing those things to you.” But by now desire is playing dark scenarios in my head, and I’m afraid it might be too late. I won’t be able to control myself.
“I deserve it, Tristan.”
“There it is, the big problem.” I put a stopping hand over hers through her panties. My cock is big and hard, and it takes great effort to keep myself rational, but I must, now more than ever.
“Many victims of abuse see themselves as responsible. Feelings of guilt and shame and ‘I deserve this’ are as common as they are wrong. No.” I squeeze her hand. “You don’t deserve this.”
By the way she looks at me, I can tell I’ve reached her heart. Trouble is, she’s also reached mine. This moment right here, I’ve never experienced such a connection before.
“Please, Tristan,” she whispers, full of desire, and I already know I’ll crack. I’ll come undone, I won’t be able to resist her. “If it’s the last thing you ever do for me—just for tonight, be what I need you to be.”
CHAPTER VI – Taking Her
Tristan
MY FACE BURNS AS MY lips touch Isolde’s. Fucking hell. Current runs through me from my lips to the rest of my body, driving me to lay down over her, pushing my knees between her legs.
A craze takes over. Supporting my own weight on my elbows, my hard lips crushing my pure white dove’s rosy mouth, I crave more. I part her lips with my tongue, pushing my crotch harder against her sex. Fuck, the exquisite taste of her shy tongue, the warm feel of her folds beneath the fabric.
Taken by surprise, she barely reacts to my invasion. Because that is what I’m doing—I’m invading her like a barbarian raiding a convent, driven by greed for the riches hidden deep inside it.
I want to defile this woman, claim her as mine. I’ve always been a cold brute, but Isolde awakens sides of me that I never knew existed, and it scares the hell out of me. But I enjoy it like a tumbler of expensive whiskey, and I can’t help abandoning myself to it.
Isolde responds to my kiss, opening her mouth, her hands slipping under my shirt to the sides of my torso and towards my back. She moans in my mouth as I kiss her deeply, holding me close and pushing her body into mine, writhing with need.
She lifts her head off the pillow, meeting my kiss, but the scent of her blood hits me from her pounding jugular. I break the kiss to look down at her, sucking a breath through my teeth.
“By God, woman.” Her jugular beats hard, pumping irresistible blood to her cheeks. It smells like lilies and innocence, with a whiff of the serpent that’s imbued her flesh with eternal youth.
“Take my blood, if you want it,” she whispers, her eyes hooded. “Take my blood, but take my pussy, too.”
“I’m going to soil you with my lust,” I say, my eyes burning with greed.
“Yes, yes, soil me,” she whispers, her cheeks red with desire. Seems she loves dirty talk.
Up in my head I know I shouldn’t do it. I decided to protect and foster her innocence, but fuck damn it. Seeing her naked under me, her silky chocolate hair spread over the pillow, the white shirt open to reveal her perfectly round, firm breasts, it’s driving me mad. The devil inside awakens, the one that wants to possess and subdue her, make her recognize me as her master. I might lose interest in her after I’m done, after she’s subconsciously acknowledged me as her owner, because that was my psychology so far, and I’m aware of it.
But it might be better for her if I do lose interest.
Maybe we’ll both cool down after she’s been punished for her lust and wanton behavior by being roughly used and humiliated by a man—it’s what usually makes my sex drive skyrocket. With the tension gone, maybe it’ll be easier for me to deal with these emotions.
So I let the devil take over.
“Tell me exactly what you want from me,” I command. “And that’s exactly what I give you.”
“What I deserve,” she whispers, falling deeper into the trance.
“What you deserve.”
She cups her own breasts and kneads them, sticking out her tongue as if she wants to lick them. She looks provokingly into my eyes in a way I never even thought she could. That wanton stare looks so strange on her face. Her hips writhe under me, her movements now ampler, her thighs flexing as she’s seeking her own pleasure by moving against her own panties.
I hook a finger into her panties right where her sex is, so that my knuckles touch her flesh.
My cock twitches, hard and hurting. She’s slick and hot, her folds perfectly shaved. A pang of jealousy runs through my chest. I can feel my jaw ripple.
“Did he want your pussy smooth, or was it your choice?”
She bites her lip, making me think of a sweet milkmaid begging for it in a shack.
“He wanted it.”
“Aha.” Anger ravages me.
“But he hasn’t taken me in forever, I swear to you,” she adds quickly. “You’ll be the first man to have me in a long time, Tristan. Oh, please, fuck me.”
She grinds her soaking pussy harder against my knuckles, driving me crazy with desire, but I have to resist. I stroke my cock up and down, hard but slowly, making sure I don’t come in two minutes like a teenager.
“You want a cock between your legs.”
“I want you.”
“All right. Tell me exactly how you want it, and I swear that’s what you’ll get.”
Under my mind control, she’s compelled to tell the truth. She licks her already swollen and reddened lips.
“I want you to take all of me, Tristan, all my holes at the same time.” She pushes her hips up, her heels digging into the mattress, her pussy grinding hard against the back of my hand that’s now become a fist in an effort to keep my wild desires in check.
“I want you to stick your fingers in my pussy and in my ass,” she says, her eyes hooded, her breath jagged. Spreading her arms to the sides like a drugged woman, she sighs, as if she’s close to climaxing just from rocking her pussy against my fist. “Oh, I love this, your masculinity, your strength, your deadly assassin knuckles, used for my pleasure.”
“Ah, fuck.” Sperm squirts from my cock. I tighten my grip, bucking and cursing.
“Do it with your fingers, and then do it with your cock—”
But I can’t let her finish, I’m out of control. I sink two hard fingers inside of her, slowly, enjoying every inch. Fuck, I can’t believe I’m feeling Isolde Serpaint’s hot pussy around my hand, clenching and sucking at me greedily.
“Ah, God, yes.” She loves it, arching her back. With every inch I go in, her tits push up to me, her nipples hard and her skin pebbled from pleasure. Her wet hot inside clenches on my fingers, and advancing isn’t easy. The woman is tight, even though she’s overflowing with need. Only imagining what she’ll feel like around my cock sends me in a frenzy.
I bend over her, keeping my weight on my other hand, and pump her pussy with my fingers. I do it more gently than she’d like, so she moves to meet my hand, while I watch the expression on her face with the hunger of a wolf.
“Fuck, I could eat you alive,” escapes my mouth as I watch her head shift up and down from my pumping and her own writhing into my hand, her eyes relishing the sight of me.
She’s clearly still under my mind control. I make myself feel better about influencing her mind by telling myself it’s for her own good. It not only helps her relax better than the finest drug, it also enables her to drop all limitations and be herself, speak out her true desires and act on them.
And I am her true desire.
She looks to the side, arching her head back and offering me her pounding jugular. “I’m coming, Tristan. Bite me. I want your teeth in me while I spill myself.”
My heart beats hard, my whole body maddened with the need to plunge inside of her, and fuck her, growling like a beast and pulling her hair, commanding her to talk dirty to me.
I jolt up before I act on that impulse, sitting on my knees over her, easing my fingers out of her sweet sex. I make to move away so I can eat her pussy, but an angry plea stops me.
“No. No, no, no. You said you’d do whatever I asked you to, so do it.”
“I won’t bite you, Isolde, no matter what. It can do you more harm than good.”
“Then fuck me,” she commands, her face alight, her body needing it, craving it, begging for it. I stare at her fascinated—my pretty little white dove, completely taken with yearning.
As for me, my cock’s on fire.
She lies there on her elbows, her legs sprawled out in front of me, her pussy naked and open, her clit glistening with her cream. I growl.
“Hell, I can’t control this hunger.”
I bend so fast that she can’t react, my tongue stroking her swollen clit. She tightens and flinches at the unexpected jolt of pleasure.
“Jesus, Tristan.”
But then I stroke again, and again, and then harder, then using my lips too, until I’m French kissing her pussy.
“Now I’m your slave,” I mutter, her sweet cream all around my mouth.
She moans and squirms, her fragile hands fisting in my hair, pushing my face into her pussy as if she were using me like a sex toy. Sweet hell, how I’m loving this.
Then an idea comes to me—I could use mind control in a way that benefits her on the deepest level. My mind control puts her on autopilot, in a sense, accessing her deepest desires. It’s pretty much like accessing the bios of a computer. When I first did it, it revealed that she felt she was unworthy of love, and craved being used like a dirty slut. That speaks volumes about the state the evil Serpaint put her in. No one understands that better than I do, because abuse was what screwed up my own sexuality, but I could at least fix hers.
I activate my powers, and imbue my voice and my aura with them.
“You’re going to use me, Isolde.” With my head between her legs, I grab her thighs. “I’ll lick and worship your pussy, she’s my mistress now. I’ll do her bidding, and you’ll love it.”
With that, and with her astonished eyes on me, I sink my tongue inside of her.
Isolde
I MUST HAVE LOST MY mind, this scene can’t possibly be real. Tristan’s electric blue eyes stare at me from between my legs, filled with lust. His tongue sinks deep inside of me, those killer fangs pressed against my inner folds. That G spot he’s teased with his fingers before is still sensitive and throbbing with need inside, and as he sinks his fingers into me again, I’m about to come.
“God,” I fall apart, clenching a
nd instinctively trying to move and control the pleasure. But Tristan’s free hand clamps on my hip, keeping me in place, yet removing his fingers enough to keep my pleasure bubbling but not bursting.
My heart pounds violently while he eats my pussy like he worships her, and my thighs soon clench around his neck. He pauses to talk to me once in a while.
“You want me, Isolde, so fuck my mouth. Own my face.”
My heels dig into his back through his shirt. I’m dying to feel that hard, young, battle-hardened body writhing on mine.
There’s something deeply sexy, dark and dirty about being taken by an assassin while he’s actually on a mission. And something exhilarating about fucking my abusive husband’s worst enemy right under his roof.
Tristan’s tongue flicks greedily between my folds, pressing harder, hungrier, and I yelp. I throw my arms back and grab to the bedpost, holding tight to balance myself while my heels push into his back and my pussy into his face.
“Oh, Jesus Christ, let me come, Tristan.” He keeps eating me like he’s in a fever, but still changes rhythm just as I’m about to explode.
“I command you,” I insist. One look at him reveals he must have really lost his mind. His electric blue eyes are fixed on me, but his gaze gives me the chills. He doesn’t blink, watching me with the intensity of an animal about to devour me.
And I want it, I want that danger swallowing me whole.
“Do it, now.” It’s an order, but my voice is soft, feminine, alluring. My brain has me using all my feminine weapons to get what my pussy craves.
Tristan lets me unwind my legs from around his neck, and crawls on his hands over me. My heart pounds in anticipation as I watch those marble ropes of muscle move under his skin, showcasing his immense strength.
His face now above mine, we stare at each other without blinking, our breath touching each other’s skin. I drink in his angular assassin features, the way his impenetrable smooth skin stretches over his bad-boy bone structure, mesmerized by his electric blue eyes.