Bite Mark

by Lily Harlem

  “Yes, kind of like that, though no one has far to go.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The row of houses either side of the main building belongs to the Company. It is where members live. You are in fact in number sixteen now, several doors along from the one you came in.”

  “Wow, so like they are all joined?” I tried to think back to the route Aimery had carried me, but it was a maze of stairs and corridors, each one similar and linking to the last. The only bit that stood out to me was the tapestry outside of his room and the staircase that led to the rear courtyard.

  “Yes, they’re all joined.”

  “Does that mean Denny might be in one of them?” My memory was blurred. How far from the Company front door had I seen him? It was quite a bit farther around if I remembered rightly.

  “We will find out at session.” He grinned and I wasn’t sure if he knew something more or not. “Is the tea nice?”

  “Yes, perfect. Really sweet.” I tried and failed to stifle a yawn.

  “Do you need to sleep?”

  I glanced at the bed. It was only late morning but as usual on a working day I’d been up since three a.m. “Will you rest with me?” I asked. “I still feel shaken, and I don’t know why, but against common sense, you make me feel safe.”

  “That is not against common sense at all, you are safe with me.” He smiled gently and reached for the zipper on my coat. “And if you want me to lie with you then of course I will.”

  I wanted more than that. I wanted to lie naked with him, have him touch me and also to touch him. I wanted to give the passion burning in me freedom to burst out, and allow the desire smoldering in his eyes the chance to be satisfied. “Yes,” I whispered. “That is what I want.” I hesitated. “I want you.”

  Chapter Seven

  I wasn’t normally so brazen with someone I’d known a little over twenty-four hours and even less so with someone whose blood-drinking habit concerned me. But I couldn’t help but remember the trembling climax Aimery had given me the day before with just the brush of his hand over my clothes. Imagine if we were naked, writhing together searching for pleasure. How damn good would it be then?

  Aimery smiled, set my cup on the mantel over the fire and removed my coat and laid it on a high-backed chair. He then peeled off my sweater and white thermal top to reveal my black lacy bra.

  As he did so I noticed a bulge in his groin.

  A glow of satisfaction warmed me the way the fire did—it appeared Aimery wanted me too.

  His movements were precise, swift but unhurried and I enjoyed revealing myself to him, removing the layers covering my small girly body that was always dressed so boyishly. Normally I didn’t like to draw attention to my curves or female attributes, but right now I was proud of them. I wanted them on display. I wanted to show Aimery and see his face light up with each bit of clothing he removed.

  “Pretty,” he whispered, stroking his thumb over the flowery edging that sat on the rise of my breasts. “So pretty.”

  “Aimery,” I said, watching his face as he traced the outline of my breasts. He appeared utterly fascinated, mesmerized. “I thought you said thirty years when you were telling me about your wife. But I must have heard wrong.”

  “Shh,” he said, not tearing his gaze from his caress. “Talk later.”

  “But—”

  “You heard right. It was a long time ago. I have been waiting for someone like you to heal me.”

  “But how old are you?”

  “Old enough to know better than to take advantage of a sexy woman standing in my room.” He chuckled. “But young enough not to be able to resist.”

  “I—”

  He silenced me with a kiss, firm and dominating, and when he pulled back he took the weight of my right breast into his palm. “So yes, it’s been a while. Do you think you can be gentle with me?” One side of his mouth tipped into a half grin.

  “Well, I can’t promise that,” I said, pressing my hand over his and encouraging him to grip me tight, the way I liked.

  I don’t care how bloody old he is. I just want him.

  He pulled me close, not quite gently but not abandoned to passion either. I reached up for his kiss and we tumbled to the bed. Cushions scattered around us and the exquisite silk covers slid under my back. Aimery settled his long body over mine and I gripped his wide shoulders. His skin was smooth, almost polished, and he was still chilled from his trip outside in the frosty morning air.

  “Beatrice, waiting for you has been so hard,” he murmured.

  I kissed him more deeply, feeling as if for the first time I was in bed with a man and not some lad who was going to take what he could then head off to the pub with his mates. My track record with boyfriends hadn’t been great. But I had a feeling Aimery was going to blow every other sexual experience I’d ever had out of the water. “Aimery, you know I wouldn’t normally, this is all so fast and I—”

  “Shh.” He was fiddling with the zipper on my jeans. “No explanations. We have waited this long to find each other, so why should we be forced to wait another second?” He sat back on his heels and I lifted my hips so he could tug off my trousers, my knickers, my shoes and socks. I glanced downward at my dark tuft of pubic hair and my thighs that still held the last of a Hyde Park suntan.

  His gaze caught mine for a long moment, then he pressed a lingering kiss, right over my navel.

  I squirmed. His tongue was firm and wet and sent shivers of bliss racing across my skin.

  He moved upward, toward my breasts, and released my bra. My nipples were engorged, straining for attention. I could feel how damp I was between my legs. He must have felt it too when his bare abdomen came into contact with my pussy, because he groaned as if approving of the moisture.

  Jabbing my hands into his silken locks of hair, I arched my back and thrust my chest into his face. I wanted to get to the main event, but I also adored foreplay.

  “You taste divine,” he murmured and pressed my breasts together, licking through the deep cleavage he’d created.

  “Aimery,” I gasped, reaching for his cheeks and tugging him upward. “Please, fuck me. I want you to fuck me, now.”

  He frowned slightly. “No, Beatrice, I won’t fuck you.” He touched his lips to mine then trailed a string of kisses to my ear. “But I will make love to you, and I will make you mine.”

  “Yes, yes,” I said, writhing beneath him, trying to feel his cock, which was still within the confines of his trousers. My arousal would be smearing on the expensive material, glistening and silvery, but I didn’t care. I needed his cock. I needed it now. “And I will make you mine too,” I said breathlessly.

  “It makes me very happy to hear you say that.” He propped himself up on his hands and hovered above me. “Reach behind yourself.”

  “Why?” I was tracing his pecs, rubbing circles over his taut nipples and making them bend slightly the way I’d imagined they would.

  “Do it…now.”

  There was something about the command in his voice that sent a thrill bursting from my core. Oh God, he was the masterful sort. I’d read about them. Tough and manly, they not only knew what they wanted but took it too.

  Quickly I did as he asked, pressed my arms back over the pillows and stared up at his face.

  “You feel the slats in the headboard?” he asked.

  Carved poles made of smooth wood sat against the backs of my hands. “Yes.”

  “Hold on to them, tight.”

  “But I want to touch you, I—”

  “Do it.”

  That note again, the absolute insistence that he be obeyed.

  I wasn’t about to argue, not when I was so hot I might fuse out at any moment. Vampire or not, this guy had me gagging for it.

  Hurriedly, I wrapped my fingers around the two slats my knuckles had pressed against. “Like this?”

  “Yes, like that and don’t let go.” He softened his voice. “Because believe me, you’re going to want to be hol
ding on for this.”

  Oh, the confidence of the guy. It was such a bloody turn-on.

  He slid his fingers over my stomach to my pussy. Pinched my pubic hair and pulled, a little, not enough to cause pain, but enough to send a tremble of excitement to my already buzzing clit.

  I gasped and kept my attention on his eyes. They were wild and stormy, like dangerous clouds building on the horizon. He was looking at me with the same intensity I was bestowing on him, as though reading my soul, looking into my deepest, darkest desires.

  “Don’t let go,” he whispered.

  “No, no, I…ah…ah…” A sliding pressure in my pussy, traveling higher and higher caught my breath and stole my words.

  “Oh, such a wonderful body temperature,” he murmured, closing his eyes and letting his mouth hang slack as he maneuvered inside me a little more.

  “Yes, that’s it,” I gasped, clenching my internal muscles around his questing fingers. “Hot for you, Aimery, just for you.”

  “Mmm, yes, for me.” He pulled out and eased back in, his thumb connecting with my clit.

  I gripped the slats behind me with all my strength. I wanted to let go, touch his smooth flesh and cup his face in my palms. But I didn’t, I kept hold and allowed sparks of pleasure to weave through my body.

  “I’m going to taste you again,” he said, slipping downward.

  “Again?” I gasped.

  “Yes, again. I don’t think I will ever get enough of you, my love.”

  He was a romantic sod—that was for sure. Not that I was complaining, it made a nice change, as did the fact he was clearly an expert on the female form. He was working me up perfectly, just how I liked it. Sliding in and out, stroking my G-spot and at the same time applying a firm, rotating pressure on my clit.

  Parting my legs, I exposed my pussy. If he was going to taste me down there, I was more than up for it. And if his tongue performed like his fingers I’d be flying high within the next few minutes.

  I shut my eyes and spread my legs wider still so he could settle between them. I then braced for the first contact of his tongue on my sensitive flesh.

  He buried his nose into my pubic hair, inhaled deep and teased my insides with his fingers, speeding up the manipulation of my G-spot.

  “Ah, oh, yes,” I cried, twisting and pressing my face against my inner arm. “Oh, like that, please, more.”

  “Yes, miss,” he murmured, then swept his tongue over my labia, tangling it with his fingers and adding to the swirling of my clit.

  My pulse raged in my ears, my breaths were hard to catch. I’d never been catapulted to this frenzy of arousal so quickly. I bucked my hips and forced my mound into his face. He was so busy with his hand, unrelenting too. The pressure was mounting, about to overspill.

  “Aimery, oh, fuck, Aimery. I’m going to come…really soon,” I said, struggling to get my words out between pants.

  He was kissing my pubic hair, nipping it with his teeth. The sting, the discomfort, combined with the industrious actions of his hand had me groaning and whining.

  I was so close, teetering on the edge. Arching my neck, I forced my mons into his mouth, wanting more of the edgy pain as I came.

  He obliged, sharpening the pull on the hair roots so much it stung like a slap. A slap that stayed in place, burning and boiling.

  The erotic pain tipped me over the edge. My climax was there.

  Scorching pleasure tore through me. Starting in my mound, my clitoris and my pussy, then spreading all over my body. I trapped my breath in my chest and gripped the slats behind me as my spine jerked and my hips convulsed.

  Wails and cries of bliss were spilling from my mouth, but they sounded distant. I’d caved in on myself. The ecstasy stomping over my soul was mind-altering and going on and on.

  Aimery was riding through it with me. Not letting up with the magnificent things he was doing to my body.

  I curled my toes. Strained my shoulders with the effort of hanging on. The spasms wreaking havoc on my internal muscles were so powerful. I clamped around Aimery’s fingers over and over in a sublime series of contractions. I was sure they would never end. I’d never orgasmed so hard in all my life.

  “Oh fuck, that’s so intense,” I gasped, a sob bubbling from my throat.

  Suddenly he was over me, his solid chest resting on mine and his lips pressing onto my mouth.

  I tangled my tongue with his, tasted myself, musk and heat, a hint of metal too, like sucking a silver spoon.

  He withdrew his fingers and his cock nudged my still convulsing entrance.

  “Condom,” I gasped.

  “It is not necessary,” he replied breathlessly. “I promise.”

  He thrust in. One wild shove that forced my body up the bed until my head hit the slats I was clutching.

  Releasing my hold, I grabbled for his shoulders and forgot about everything—holding on, condoms, vampires, the rest of the damn universe. Aimery was all that existed, and fuck the guy was well hung. Not only that, he was as solid as a cool iron girder.

  I forced my pussy to relax, the bite of pain was exquisite and as I was swollen from my orgasm, tender and quivering—accommodating him was not an easy task.

  “Ah, fuck, can’t…last…long,” he groaned, pulling almost out then burying back in. “Too…good. Too…hot.”

  “It’s okay,” I gasped, fisting a handful of his hair and wrapping my legs around the backs of his thighs. His trousers were gone. “Come now,” I said excitably into his ear. “Come now for me. I want to feel you let go the way I just did.”

  He reared back onto his knees, clutched my hips and drove my body onto his cock as he surged forward.

  Air was thrust from my lungs. I was sure he’d hit my diaphragm. I grabbed his wrists for purchase and stared into his wild face. His lips were bruised red with our frantic kisses, though unlike me he wasn’t sweating and flushed. His skin was still as pale as china.

  “I’ve finally found you,” he said, through gritted teeth. “I will not let you go, Beatrice.” He buried as deep as he could go. It felt like the tip of his cock was in my throat, he’d tunneled so far into me. “And I will protect you always. Argh,” he cried, flinging his head backward. “Ah, yes, yes, yes. Thanks be to Benedict.”

  A cold flush seeped into my core as his cock pulsed over and over, forcing his release into me. It was strange, the coolness of his cum, but also soothing on my hot innards.

  He collapsed on top of me, winding his arms beneath my shoulders and pulling me into an embrace. He remained lodged deep within my pussy, his breaths loud and hard and his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Oh Beatrice. You have no idea how glorious that felt,” he said against my temple. “It has been so long.”

  “Felt pretty damn glorious for me too,” I said, tucking in against him. I loved the way our limbs had wrapped like the perfect jigsaw puzzle. “Perhaps you won’t leave it so long next time until you make love to a woman.”

  “You can count on that.” He kissed my forehead.

  I was hot and sweaty. My underarms, my cleavage, between my legs, all moist with perspiration and cum, his and mine. But I was too drained to do anything about it. My arms and legs were heavy, leaden, my brain swamped with happy hormones that made me want to lounge languidly in afterglow.

  “Sleep now,” Aimery said, smoothing hair from my damp brow. “Recover from the intensity of our mating.”

  Mating?

  Only Aimery could call a damn fine fuck a mating. “Mmm,” I said, too weary to comment, “good idea.”

  Sleep was all I could think of, in fact I felt quite drugged, and as I drifted off, the last thing that crossed my mind was that Aimery wasn’t in the least bit sweaty.

  He was still quite cold.

  Chapter Eight

  When I woke I was supine and a cover had been spread over my naked body. Remembering the fantastic sex, I yawned, sat, then glanced around the dimly lit bedroom.

  The fire had been stoked and gentle flames flickere
d from the grate, their crackles and whispers comforting. The smell of logs reminded me of long winter evenings at my grandparents’ when I was a child.

  The door to Aimery’s office was closed but I could just make out his deep voice. It sounded like he was on the phone as the conversation was punctuated with periods of silence.

  My body reminded me that I had basic needs, and the urge to use the bathroom called. There was paneled door in the left-hand corner of the room, next to a large mahogany wardrobe. I slipped from the bed and walked toward it, the wooden floor cool on the soles of my feet and the room so quiet my steps made tiny slapping noises on the polished boards.

  Turning the handle, I was thankful to see I’d been correct. It was a lavish en-suite.

  I relieved myself then filled a white, porcelain sink that had Heritage written on the surface, between the silver taps. There was a bar of pale green soap and a white washcloth set on a shelf, so I set about freshening up. If I was lucky enough to get a repeat performance of the earlier action I’d enjoyed with Aimery, I wanted to be ready.

  My breasts were a little tender as I wiped them with the apple-scented soap suds and I thought of the mind-altering climax Aimery had treated me to just using his hand. God, if that was what his hand could do, imagine what it would be like to come with his cock driving me heavenward. I wasn’t sure if my heart would survive that. It had been a struggle to keep up with my excitement and my rising blood pressure as it was.

  After wringing out the cloth, I gently wiped between my legs and over my mound.

  “Ouch.” I winced. The skin beneath my pubic hair was very delicate. It stung when I touched it and felt bruised.

  I set the cloth down and fingered the sore spot to try to see what was causing the discomfort. After identifying the exact point of pain, I separated the short hairs and studied the flesh.

  There were two small scabs side by side. They were almost hidden but because of the tenderness I was able to determine that’s what had been uncomfortable.

  “What the hell?”

  I gripped the sink and stared into the mirror. But I hardly saw my disheveled image—brown hair tangled, lips pouty and cheeks pale—because I’d seen two small wounds like that earlier today.