by Eden Bradley
He was kissing her as hard as he was fucking her. His tongue, his cock, were driving deep. One rocking thrust and the bed crashed against the wall behind them. Another and there was the sound of breaking glass as the bedside lamp crashed onto the floor. She hovered at the edge of climax, waiting for him.
Aleron pulled his mouth from hers. “Come, Meeraj.”
“With you…”
“Yes, now!”
He plunged into her, his hips bruising, his pelvic bone slamming into her clit. She came, shattering, brilliant, blinding, like a thousand stars in the night sky. As she shuddered, Aleron tensed all over, his hips thrusting sharply, his hands going into her hair, pulling hard.
“Ah…Meeraj!”
He called her name into her hair, then crushed his cheek to hers, hard and bruising and everything she needed from him.
She was still shivering, tiny tremors of orgasm trembling through her body, when he whispered to her, “Stay with me.”
“I will,” she told him. “There is no place else I’d rather be.”
She had been with him for two weeks. He’d never kept a woman with him for so long, other than Nissa. Even then he’d kept Nissa for Hex. He didn’t want to question himself about why he was doing this. He was far too old for those kinds of mind games. He simply wanted her with him.
He’d never met anyone like her. She was an independent thinker, yet utterly submissive to him when it came to sex. She was tireless when it came to the BDSM play, letting him whip her for hours, spank her, then fuck her all night long. She was nearly as tireless as he was, in his immortal strength. And each time he felt the Bloodsong, more subtly than he would with another vampire, but it was there. Unmistakable. He hadn’t discussed it with her, even though he knew she’d felt it, too. He couldn’t bear to question why it was happening. He was afraid to know the answer.
In between, they talked. About nearly everything. He’d told her about his mortal life, about growing up in the Paris of the 1740s, the son of a successful merchant. He’d told her about Marie-Jean, the woman his father had forced him to marry, whom he did not love, and who died in childbirth a year into their marriage. He hardly remembered the cold woman for whom he had never felt anything. Then his transformation, the moment when he had received the Turning Kiss, at one of the earliest vampire clubs in Europe, long before the Midnight Playground had existed.
They hadn’t spoken again about Emeline. Meeraj seemed to feel that in revealing Emeline to her, he had said enough. And even in the little he’d said to her that first day, it was enough. He would never forget Emeline, but he felt as though his grief over her had loosened, that he was finally beginning to be able to separate himself from its constant and tenacious grasp.
He loved watching everything Meeraj did. He loved to see her eat—the food disappearing between her lush lips was a sensual experience in itself. He loved to watch her as she was now, lounging in the bath, her heavy, dark hair piled on top of her head in a lovely, silken tumble. He sat quietly on a stool as she ran the sponge over her golden skin, the metallic gleam of her eyes peeking from beneath her half closed lids. His cock was hardening already. But he needed to let the woman bathe, to have a few moments’ rest.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he told her, not for the first time, and she smiled at him, as lazily as a cat.
There was a feline grace about her. In the movement of her hands, the way she stretched in bed in the mornings when she woke. She didn’t seem to mind that he watched her almost constantly, that he couldn’t take his eyes from her.
They hadn’t returned to the Midnight Playground. Tonight he planned to take her there.
“Are you looking forward to playing at the club tonight?” he asked her.
“Yes, very much.”
“Something in me craves that small thrill of performing in front of an audience. I believe you have the same need.”
She opened her eyes. They were glittering with excitement. “You know me already, Aleron, You know I love it, all of it. I’m ready for anything you ask of me. I want it.”
He stood, taking in the sight of her hardening nipples visible beneath the layer of foamy white suds. “Are you ready right now, Meeraj?” he asked quietly.
She smiled, lowered her lashes. He loved that she went so easily into subspace, so naturally.
He knelt on the floor beside the tub and rolled up the sleeves of his white silk shirt. “Open for me,” he commanded.
She leaned back, pulling her knees up and spreading her thighs.
He reached down into the warm water, slipped his fingers into her slit and with his thumb he found the hard nub of her clit, already swollen.
“Ah, you are ready for me.”
She sighed softly. “Yes. Always.”
He pushed two fingers into her pussy, found the walls slick and tight. He pressed onto her clitoris, began to make hard circles. Her hips arched into his hand, and she was moaning, panting instantly. When he pinched her nipple, her hips rose, and she cried out.
“Settle, Meeraj.”
She took a long breath and stilled herself. He pinched again. This time she only gasped, not moving, her nipple rock-hard between his fingers, her clitoris nearly as hard.
“Are you ready to come, my beauty?”
“Yes…please…”
He let her nipple go, lifted her wrist to his lips, kissed the tender skin there. “Come then, into my hand.”
He pumped into her, his fingers driving deep, and pressed roughly onto her clit. And as he sensed her climax approaching, he bit into her wrist, just a small Kiss, drawing a few drops of her blood into his mouth.
He loved that small shock of utter sweetness that was her blood on his tongue. Loved the jolt of pleasure that was her climax, her pussy clenching around his fingers.
He loved everything about her.
No!
He forced himself to hang on to her until her climax was over, then withdrew as gently as he could, leaving her languid and spent in the tub.
What was he thinking with this woman?
He ran a hand through his hair, realized it was still wet from the fragrant bath water, grabbed a thick, white towel and wiped his hands dry.
He did not love her. Impossible. He no longer knew how to love. He hadn’t for a hundred years.
Then why did his chest ache every bit as much as his cock when he looked at her?
Some odd sort of infatuation. Obsession. It had happened to others of his kind. The years wore on, something had to be found to distract one from eternity. And she was so incredibly beautiful…
She was lounging in the warm water, her half-closed lids shuttering the golden glow of her eyes from him. But her cheeks, her breasts, were gorgeously flushed in her post-orgasm daze. He wanted her. Too much.
He leaned against the doorframe, something in him wanting to turn and run. And something even more powerful, more primal, wanting to drag her from the tub, fuck her, drink from her, until she was rendered senseless by one or the other, or both.
With a growl, he turned and strode into the bedroom.
“Aleron?”
He couldn’t answer her.
He paced the room, his bare feet scuffing over the fine Persian rug, catching on a scrap of black lace. He bent to pick it up, rubbed the fabric between his fingers. Her discarded panties, torn in his urgent haste. He could smell her all over the tattered fabric, that scent of flowers, of her skin. The scent of arousal. His cock grew unbearably hard.
He was overwhelmed by this woman. It wasn’t the hardening of his cock, or the intensity of his climax as he came into her each day, each night. It was more…
Too much. He had to put a stop to this. Had to distance himself, somehow. It was mad, to think he could allow himself to feel for a woman. He had nearly lost his mind the last time, with Emeline…
Never again.
“Aleron, are you all right?”
The sound of water splashing from the other room as s
he rose from the tub. He could hear the soft whisper of a towel moving over her skin. In a moment he was back in the bathroom, in the steam and the heat and the force of her lush, naked beauty.
Meeraj.
“Meeraj, I have a thought for this evening…”
“What is it?”
He paused, staring at her, his mind moving at a thousand miles an hour.
Distraction, yes. Call the club, talk to Ever…must take care of this immediately.
“Won’t you tell me, Aleron?”
“I think not. I’ll show you instead. Get dressed, my beauty.”
She nodded her head. He could see the fire in her eyes, the curiosity. There was always something about her that was present, in control, even as she submitted to him. But she seemed to sense this would not be a good time to question him.
He left her to finish her preparations and went into the library to make a call to the Midnight Playground, calming a bit as he spoke quietly with Ever. A few minutes later, his car pulled up in front of the house, and they were on their way to the club.
They were quiet on the ride across town. She had dressed in a short, white leather dress he’d had sent over for her a few days earlier. It fit her like a second skin, the stark, pure white a lovely contrast against her dark hair, her golden-brown flesh. Beautiful. He held on to her warm, human hand, too tightly at first, and she made a small sound, and he loosened his grip.
Outside, the darkness of nighttime London was broken by the flash of neon signs. It was beginning to rain, and even through the closed, bulletproof glass of the windows, he could smell the wet pavement of the streets and the sidewalks, mixed with motor oil, exhaust, a whiff of gunpowder and the perfume and offending odors of humanity. He let it distract him from the woman sitting beside him. From his own thoughts.
They pulled up in front of the club, finally. The iron gates with the enormous, twin black and gold dragon’s heads that were the insignia of the Midnight Playground clubs all over the world swung open for them. They stopped in front of the still beautiful building, which had once been one of London’s finest Soho district structures, the old Palace Theater. It was an imposing place, its bold facade soaring, the high, arched windows making elegant punctuations in the red brick, the colors softened by the years.
Aleron stepped from the car, helped Meeraj out, and led her past the guards, through the outer doors, the inner doors. Inside was the plush environment of the place, which was his second home, and had been for a number of years. It was all black and white marble on the floors and walls, ornate, gilt mirrors hung everywhere, and the most beautiful creatures in the world, both human and vampire.
He could smell the pure blood of the vampires—sweet, clean, with none of the metallic edge of human blood. He could feel a hundred pulse beats of the human hearts, their wild anticipation. He could feel his own.
Meeraj was still quiet, her hand warm in his. She hadn’t said a word. She was in subspace already, had been since she’d begun the evening’s preparations. He adored that about her. Why was it that tonight he almost wanted her to question him? To argue?
Perhaps because then she would not be quite so utterly perfect for him.
God damn it.
He shook off the thought and continued to lead her across the marble floors, his boot heels ringing in his own ears, hers a softer clicking sound. He took her to the old, elegant elevators that were paneled in silky, polished wood and held plush benches upholstered in heavy brocade. It made him think of the old European hotels of the last century. He had taken Emeline to the finest of them, in Paris, Berlin, Rome, Vienna.
Don’t think of her now… Not now!
He focused on the slight motion of the elevator, the hammering of his pulse. Excitement, yes, but what else?
He looked at Meeraj, and she smiled, her lush mouth brilliant, dazzling, and he relaxed a little all over. All except for his pounding, needy cock.
They got off on the top floor.
“Aleron? May I ask…where we’re going? I thought the top of the building was for the executive offices. That no one is allowed up here.”
“We are going to meet one of the owners of the club. He is called Ever. We are going to be with him this evening.”
“Oh…”
“He’s very beautiful, my friend Ever. One of the most beautiful of the vampires. One of the oldest. A thousand years, if he is a day, they say, but no one knows for certain.”
Her face paled, and he turned to stroke her soft cheek. “Ah, no, don’t be afraid. You’ll enjoy him. And he will enjoy you, my beauty. I will be there. I won’t leave you.”
Never leave her…
Stop!
He pulled his hand from her cheek, put it in the pocket of his leather pants for a moment, turned very deliberately away from her.
“Aleron? What is it? Should I not have asked you anything?”
“No. No. I’m only thinking…” He felt foolish suddenly, something he hadn’t felt in several hundred years. “Come. Everything is fine. Let’s go to him.”
He took her arm gently and led her down the long, plushly carpeted hallway, past the rows of wall sconces, the statues and enormous vases of flowers in lit nooks. At the end was a pair of wide double doors, the club’s dragon insignia worked in gold filigree on each one, the eyes glittering red garnets, the tongues snaking red enamel. He could feel her nerves, the shallow intake of her breath. And her excitement, how it had immediately ramped up when he’d mentioned he would share her with another vampire tonight.
He nodded his head to the pair of vampire guards on either side of the doors. They were beautiful, these young ones, a matched pair handpicked by Ever, who he always had nearby. They were tall and slender, their dark hair long and lustrous, their dark eyes glossy. Their lips were a dark red, telling him they’d recently fed.
Meeraj’s grip on his hand tightened as the doors opened and revealed Ever, standing in the center of the room.
“Aleron. And the lovely Meeraj. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Chapter Five
Meeraj’s heart was a hammer, her pulse hot and thready, her legs shaky. It had been this way, rising, spiraling, ever since Aleron had told her he was taking her to the Midnight Playground. And more so when he had told her he was inviting another vampire to play with them. But when she saw Ever, her heart nearly stopped.
Aleron was right. This was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen.
He was taller even than Aleron. She could make out his long, lean muscles beneath the close-fitting shirt he wore, the black leather pants that were so common at the club. His arms and legs were long and slender, beautifully made. There was something a bit androgynous about his body, the graceful way he held himself. But it was his face that was so arresting. The almost delicate bone structure, with sharp, high cheekbones, an almost feminine mouth, lush and red and full. Long, silky blond hair was swept back from a high forehead and pulled into a ponytail by a black leather cord, reaching almost to his waist. But it was his eyes… They were coal black, darker than midnight. As glossy and bright as two pieces of polished jet. And he wore his thousand years in the endless, liquid depth of them.
She was to be handed over to him, this ancient vampire who radiated power like a dark cloak. He was to touch her, with his long, beautiful, stone-hard hands. The hands of an artist, a musician.
A vampire.
She shivered once more. Bowed her head, the weight of his aura bearing her down, making her yield instantly.
His light footsteps echoed on the smooth marble floor. Then his hand beneath her chin. Unbelievable, how hard and cool his skin was. Aleron was warm beside her, compared to this being.
“She’s even more beautiful than you described, Aleron.”
His voice was rich, full, and seemed to carry some distant echo. There was a trace of an accent, but she couldn’t make out what it was.
“There is no way to accurately describe such lush beauty, is there, Ever? You must see her
for yourself, as I told you on the phone.”
“And now, here she is. A gift, this one.”
A small laugh from Aleron. “I think so.”
“As are you, my friend.”
Ever dropped her chin, stepped closer to Aleron, and taking his face in both his hands, kissed Aleron on the mouth.
Terrible, scorching need raced through her as the two vampires kissed. Lush, red lips to lush, red lips. As they broke apart, their faces only inches from each other, she could see the tips of their eyeteeth, small flashes of pure white against the red flesh.
Aleron smiled. Ever smiled back and stepped away. Something frightening in his smile, and yet it seemed sincere to her. Something a bit frightening about him, perhaps—his age, his excruciating beauty.
Was this really happening?
Desire was burning her up already, and it hadn’t even quite started yet.
Ever turned to her and took her hand, his harder and colder than she’d expected. Absolutely like stone. Like the marble floors of his office. She breathed him in, that scent of ancient stone that reminded her of Aleron, but so much older. More pure, until it was more a sense than something she could actually smell. She didn’t know how to explain it to herself.
“I am eager to taste you, Meeraj. To play with you. I can sense your eagerness. This pleases me. So does your fear.”
She swallowed, nodded.
Aleron put a hand to her waist, leaned in and said quietly, “You will obey Ever as you would me, Meeraj. Give yourself over to him. I will be with you every moment. I will be with you both.”
She was melting as they each took one of her hands and led her across the wide expanse of marble, past an enormous, ornate antique desk, and through another set of doors behind it.
The play chamber of the owner of the Midnight Playground.
The same black marble panels as the club downstairs, but everywhere were the gilt-framed mirrors, like the hall in the Palace at Versailles she’d seen in books, so that everywhere their images were reflected a hundred times. There were red velvet-covered lounge chairs, spanking benches, high tables with golden cuffs at the corners, hung with golden chains. The bondage frames and St. Andrew’s crosses were of intricately carved wood, as was the platform of the high bed in the center of the room. One could fit a dozen people on that bed, an entire orgy. And the whole, enormous room was lit by three chandeliers of ornate crystal hanging from the vaulted ceilings, casting pools of soft silver light.
