He was a marvel. A sculpture of a man. Perfect and pale, like he should be in a gallery. A few scars ran over his chest, some large, some small. Some looked to have come from claws, some from weapons. But they didn’t detract from his elegance in any way.
She went to touch him, her hands hovering over him. She wasn’t sure what to do. Or how to do it. Or that she should. But oh, how she wanted to. And how he clearly wanted her to do it.
He bent to kiss at her fingers where they hovered over him. He nipped at her playfully. “Go on.”
Finally, she gave in. She let her palms run over his body. And there was plenty of him to explore. He was like stone covered in velvet—the barest softness over the muscles beneath. She let out a shuddering breath. She had never touched anyone like this—never in her life. It was overwhelming, and she needed more.
When her hand ghosted over his abdomen, the muscles rippled as if she had triggered something. He growled, and he pulled her head to his, kissing her deeply. It emboldened her. She slid her hand lower, skin transitioning to the smooth fabric of his pants.
And finally, she worked up the nerve to touch what lay there in between his legs, begging to be freed. She should have the presence of mind to be terrified of his body. At the enormity of it. Certainly, he couldn’t mean to make it all fit inside her. But her fear did not stop her from continuing her shy exploration. She had denied herself this basic human act for so very long, and suddenly she was starving for it.
He growled thickly, turning his head to flick his tongue over her lips, asking once more for entry. She granted it, and he invaded her mouth, claiming it. He twitched beneath her hand, and she wondered if he wanted more.
Her answer was given to her when he undid the buckle of his belt and pulled the black leather strap from his pants. He undid his fly and, taking her hand in his, guided it to the entrance. She pulled from his lips, watching him, uncertain and fascinated as she ran her fingers into his trousers to find the object of her curiosity and desire.
He moaned low, leaning back to give her more room, his own hands holding on to her hips. She wrapped her fingers around his length, feeling its throbbing heat. She stroked him, or what she could manage. It was rather frustrating to not be able to explore him fully. With a hand on his shoulder, she gently pushed him back, hoping he understood what she did not quite fathom herself.
It seemed he did. With an amused smile, he obeyed. He let go of her to remove the rest of his clothes, letting out a small, relieved sigh as he was freed of their confines. He lay back on the bed. If she wanted to enjoy him, he would allow it.
By the old gods, he was gorgeous. He might as well be a god himself, she realized. He was lying there, watching her as she took in his form, and she knew there was no backing away now. Not after seeing him. Not after knowing what she could have.
He was a temptation—and one she had no ability to refuse.
God or devil. Man or monster. It didn’t matter. She wanted him.
She leaned over him, propping her weight up on one hand, and kissed his chest. He shuddered beneath her, growling in his throat. His hand drifted up her arm and rested there, not stopping her, but not pressuring her to continue.
He was letting her become comfortable with him. She appreciated it beyond words. She kissed his chest again, trailing along his body, down his abdomen. He was stoic but not immovable. He reacted to her touch, to her kisses, he shuddered or moaned quietly in his throat with each of her explorations.
Then she came to that about which she had been so curious. Oh, lord. She let her hand wrap around him, and she caressed him slowly, feeling the heat, and the throbbing heartbeat in him.
He groaned, his hips lifting, stroking himself into her grasp. “Yes, Maxine…”
It was instinct. It was an impulse. She didn’t know what she was doing. She knew how men and women enjoyed each other. She spent years in a Roma camp, and she had seen plenty of it by accident. Leaning down, she ran her tongue along his length, tasting him.
He roared, biting back the sound halfway through. She looked up to see his head thrown back, his eyes shut. His fangs were long, caught in a sudden snarl, inspired by the hunger she sensed in him. His sharp-nailed hands grasped the air by her uselessly. She realized he was fighting his desire to grab hold of her. He must not want to scare or rush her.
She ran her tongue along him again and watched his reaction, fascinated and wishing for more. She was…deeply enjoying this, she realized. She took him into her mouth—what she could, anyway—and he let out a broken-sounding howl of pleasure.
He barely fit inside her mouth at all. It was hard to do much else but to focus on the sensation of him there. She pulled him from her mouth to roll her tongue around him once more before repeating the action. How he moaned when she took him into her—it was a beautiful, amazing sound, and she wanted to hear more of it.
This time, he placed his hands on her. One on her shoulder, the other tangling into her hair atop her head. Gently, not hard enough that she couldn’t resist him, he urged her to take more of him into her mouth. She did, and as she reached her limit, he pulled her back. He began to repeat the pattern, showing her the proper rhythm. She stroked what she could not take with her hand.
She had no concept of what she was doing. She was suddenly very eager to learn.
“This is not what I would have expected,” he growled huskily. “You are forever a surprise. Ah—” He broke off in a breathy sigh. “You are perfect. Yes, like that. Oh, Maxine…”
Shutting her eyes, she let herself enjoy him and the strange pleasure she derived from feeling him in her mouth. Of his girth, his warmth, the taste of him. She understood why people did this now. It was bliss. It was power. And she, too, hungered for more.
He urged her away from him after a few long moments, scooping her up to pull her onto the bed with him. Suddenly, she was beneath him, and he was kissing her. Desperately, hungrily—his lips worked over hers as if he would devour her by that means alone.
When he broke off, she was gasping for air. He ran his lips to her ear and nibbled upon the lobe for a moment before speaking. “As much as I hate to pry you away…as I could watch you do that for hours…tonight is about your needs, not mine.”
She had no words for him as he kissed his way down the length of her body, his weight on his elbow as he stroked and caressed her with his other hand. When he reached her navel and threatened to go lower, she froze. “Turnabout is fair play, my dear.” He kissed her right beneath her abdomen.
“I…”
“You’re shy. I understand. There is no shame in this.” He settled himself between her legs. Her face went warm as he parted them to lean his head down to her core. She gasped, her back arching off the bed as he ran his tongue up along her.
Her hand flew to his hair to try to pull him away, but he snatched it and buried it under his palm. Her other hand met a similar fate, leaving her helpless as he explored her.
All thoughts fled as her mind went white with pleasure as he delved his tongue into her. She cried out as he moved north to capture the sensitive bud, rolling his tongue over it. He released her hand, knowing she was not going to fight him any longer. His fingers had another goal. She nearly bucked out from under him as one of his digits took the place of his tongue, allowing him to return his attentions to the rest of her. He knew what he was doing. And, oh, he seemed to know her body better than she did.
Pleasure in her built suddenly and unexpectedly. She whimpered, tossing her head. Needing it to end, yet never wanting it to stop. The sensation sent her pitching headfirst over a cliff into ecstasy. She arched her back again, grasping the sheets beneath her hands, crying out his name.
When she came back to reality, he was kissing her cheek. He was lying between her legs, nestled there, his weight on his elbow by her head. She was gasping for air, and he was patiently waiting for her.
She turned to look at him, meeting his crimson gaze, and saw passion, and desire, and…love. She ca
ressed his chest, letting her hands settle with one on his shoulder and the other on his side.
She knew what was going to happen.
She wasn’t an idiot.
But it didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid. Especially after she had seen—and tasted—the size of him.
He lifted her knee, hooking it over his elbow, and she felt him press against her entrance. She bit her lip, and he tutted. “Don’t be afraid.” He leaned down to kiss her. Slow and gentle. He parted to let her breathe, and he went back to watching her. “Relax.”
She did as best she could.
“Do you wish for me to put you in my thrall until the first moment is over? You would be spared any pain.”
She shook her head. “I want to feel it. I want to feel this.”
He smiled faintly. “Good.” And with that, he pressed forward. She gasped. Pressure built, and she wondered if it would not work. Until suddenly, it did.
She moaned at the feeling of him inside of her, even the barest amount that now had claimed. There was much, much more to come. And she knew the pain of it had not started.
He snarled quietly, not immune to the sensation either. He pressed his hips forward a little farther, inching his way into her body. It felt impossible. It felt incredible.
He paused when he came to a barrier. He leaned down to kiss her. “This will hurt only for a moment.”
She nodded, understanding. “I trust you.”
Crimson eyes caught hers, and through the haze of his pleasure and his desire, she could see the tenderness that flickered there. Those words had meant a great deal to him. “That is the greatest gift you could give me this night. Your trust.”
He pressed forward then, breaching her. She cried out and winced as he did. It stung. She pounded her fist into his shoulder, knowing he would not mind it. He continued to press forward until he filled her. Until he was seemingly everywhere.
It was that sensation that broke her out of her pain—the throbbing fullness. The sensation of him buried so deeply inside her. Of reaching every part of her body. It took her a long few moments before she could even fathom the truth of what had happened. As he promised, the sting faded away until it was nothing, leaving only his presence there.
But she knew there was still more of him. She shuddered at the knowledge. “I would have it all from you, vampire.”
He furrowed his brow. “It may hurt.”
“Now you wish to spare me a part of you that might bring pain, vampire?” She smiled and lay her head back. “If you would have me in full, then I will ask the same of you.”
He growled low in his throat, a pleasured, hungry, needy sound. “As you wish.” And with that, he pressed his weight against her, forcing her body to take to what remained. He was now sheathed to the hilt, and she moaned as her body surrendered to him.
She saw stars. But not from pain. She was astonished. It did not…feel bad, though perhaps it should. It was different from the sting of being taken for the first time. It was an ache. A delicious and terrible, wonderful ache. She wondered if her pleasure would peak from that alone. From the way he filled her. She gasped for air, her heart pounding in her ears. “Oh, Vlad,” she whispered.
“Good girl. Now, breathe slowly,” he murmured into her ear. “You will adjust.”
She took his advice and forced her lungs to slow down their rapid pace. As she did, her lightheadedness began to subside, leaving only that deep, very pleasant ache. There was so much of him, stretching her, forcing her body to comply, however willing she was.
He did not move. He lay in her, pulsing with his heartbeat, clearly itching for more, and he waited. He waited for her to be ready. She pulled his head to hers and kissed him slowly. When she parted, she smiled at him gently. “Thank you.”
“Then let’s begin.” He pressed harder, using his weight to deepen the ache inside her.
She did not think it was possible that he might possibly go farther, but once more he proved her wrong. She moaned loudly as he did, arching her back and grabbing at him in surprise. Pleasure lanced through her like lightning. “Oh, God!”
“Am I? Many would beg to differ.” He purred against her throat. “But you…oh, Maxine…you feel divine indeed.” He growled as he relented from the pressure, pulling back out of her until barely anything remained before he surged forward again. Not quickly, not forcefully, but as unstoppable as the tide.
He was a force of nature. And he was going to love her like one. He continued the pace, nearly leaving her then filling her. Every few strokes, he would press harder into her until she took him in his entirety. He would hold himself there, making her gasp and whimper in pleasure. It should hurt, being impaled in such a way. She knew it should. But somehow, that was not the right word for what it made her feel.
She was panting, her body wracked with pleasure. By all the gods, she had been deprived of something too wonderful to describe. She lifted her hips to meet his downstroke, and he growled in approval. The next time he pressed hard into her, fitting all of him inside her straining body, she pulled his hips down to hers. She needed the ache he gave her. She wanted more of it.
“Perfect, beautiful child…yes. By the night, yes,” he moaned into her shoulder, pressing even harder. “You are too wonderful…this is bliss.”
“Vlad,” she gasped, breathless. She wasn’t sure what she was asking for. All she knew was that he had more to give her, and she wanted it all.
“Patience.” He grinned and kissed her. He pulled himself back once more and surged forward, a little harder than before. “I am going to enjoy you. Every inch of you. For as long as I can. But here is a taste of what I can give you when I desire to be merciful.” He thrust into her, fast and hard, ramming into her end and sending sparks of pleasure crashing through her, jolting her against the sheets. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes!” She gasped. “Oh—oh Vlad, yes—”
“Soon.” He slowed his tempo again, and he chuckled at her frustrated whine.
Then it happened.
It rushed toward her like a tidal wave. It was going to drown her. She tensed, trying to hold it back. She would not let it consume her. She struggled with it, turning her head to the side and squeezing her eyes shut tight.
“What is wrong?” He leaned closer and tilted her face to his. “What is causing you pain?”
“Nothing—it’s fine—I—”
“Do not lie to me.” He cradled her cheek in his hand. “Look at me, Maxine.”
She obeyed, and she saw in his red eyes what she was trying to hold back. What she was trying to keep from crashing over her—him. All of him. Her control over her empathy was threatening to shatter and snap. She had no idea what would happen when it did, and it scared her.
“Let go,” he whispered. “I have you.”
“I…”
He pressed into her all the way. She gasped, and she could see the pleasure in his eyes. She knew hers carried the same. “Does it look as though I wish to be separate from you?”
That was enough to break her grasp on the reins. The horses charged away from her, and she was overtaken. He filled her body, and now he filled her mind. She was tangled up in him, and she knew he was the same. She moaned and arched beneath him. “Vlad!”
Perfect creature. His perfect creature.
He could smell the fires of a Roma camp. He could see the household she grew up in. He could feel her there in his mind, every part of her, dancing with him. Tangled in the silk of his web, he was both the spider and the fly.
She twisted beneath him in pleasure, in bliss, and he could feel it like it was his own. He had not been expecting to know her experience like an echo chamber. He gasped and moaned. and he could not help but quicken his pace. He had wanted to take it slow with her—to make her beg for more. To make her ask him to take her and show her what he had to offer.
And she was so close to begging. She had begun to surrender to the pleasure. She was so quick to adjust and learn. He had savored t
he moment her body relaxed and opened to him, wishing to take all that he had to give her. And he had so very many things he would like to give her.
All in due time.
Now she clung to him as he took her, feeling the blissful, perfect, volcanic heat around him. She warmed his body, his heart beating fast and loud as her own ecstasy echoed with his. All at once he was in her, and she was around him.
He had expected a terrified child. A trembling virgin he would need to coax and console every step of the way. Instead, he found a shy but very eager little creature dwelled in his companion. Unsure of herself, yet so very willing to explore him. It was not shocking that she could intuit what might bring him pleasure. She could hear his emotions, after all. He could see her take joy in the act. He would teach her to be a master in time.
But now, feeling her desire and his own twist together and merge, he could not help himself. He would not hurt her. He would not leave her sore. But he could not keep the same patient tempo as before. He needed her. He had said it before, and he had meant every word.
I need all of her.
And in that moment, they were one.
18
Bella looked up at the crimson moon. It hung in the air over them, forever full, casting its foreboding red light.
She found it strangely beautiful. Tragic in that it represented freedom for some, but death for others. Such was the way of predators. And that was what sat next to her on the planter box, happily eating the food he had taken from the kitchen for them. They had already had their dinner, but Mordecai was voracious in more ways than his sexual appetite. He had stolen a good-sized plate of food to bring with them.
She couldn’t deny she was helping herself to some of the grapes.
When his tail wound around her ankle, holding on to her, she couldn’t help but smile at him. “What?”
“You were morose. I don’t like to see you in such a mood, so I’m going to distract you. Besides. I love it when you smile at me.”
Curse of Dracula Page 17
