Nectar: DD Prince

by Prince, DD

  Iciness flooded her veins at the memory of him drinking her blood. As she relieved herself her hand reached for the bite marks on her inner thigh and her other hand reached for her throat, where he’d also bit her. Both areas were lightly scabbed over.

  Kyla steepled her hands over her mouth and balanced her elbows on her knees as she sat on the toilet and again felt like her heart was in her throat. She let out a deep breath.

  What the heck do I do now?

  She heard a noise outside the door. She wiped with toilet tissue, jumped up, flushed the toilet, and turned the water on loudly. As she washed her hands she spotted her reflection in the mirror. Her big green eyes didn’t have the darkish rings around them that she had become accustomed to seeing. Her long dark curly hair was looking a bit wild but her cheeks were pink and rosy. Her skin was moist and dewy looking. Two orgasms. Two orgasms that rendered every so-called orgasm she’d had before them utterly inconsequential. She shuddered, feeling heat rise in her face. She bit down on her bottom lip and then shook off the trance and splashed cold water over her face.

  “Kyla?” She knew that caramel-smooth voice already. It was him, outside the door. She felt her nipples tingle in response to his voice. Her brows furrowed at that reaction and fear spiked. What now?

  She dried her face quickly and stood frozen for what seemed like a long time staring in the mirror with the water running and taking slow breath after slow breath. She heard a click and then the doorknob turned and opened and there he was. He moved to stand beside her and looked at her in the mirror, guardedly.

  She bit down on her tongue and remained frozen, rigid with tension. He was half naked and he had a reflection in the mirror.

  Weren’t vampires supposed to be invisible in a mirror?

  And he was gorgeous, maybe even more gorgeous in broad daylight. He looked directly into her eyes via the mirror. He wore a pair of black gym shorts and nothing else. He was glistening, like he’d just worked out. He leaned over and turned the taps off. She watched his shoulder and arm muscles ripple. He was ripped like a professional athlete. Then she glanced down to his navel and his happy trail. She caught her lower lip with her top teeth and bit hard.

  “So…” he said, looking cautiously at her reflection, but it seemed like his blue eyes pierced into hers and awakened sensations low in her belly. A moment passed where he stared at her. She could only imagine he was again trying to put her in a trance or pull her into his eyes like they were lasers that would suck her in and render her an assimilated drone. No one had ever looked at her like that, so deep into her eyes. Never.

  With that bit of scruff on his face, dimpled chin, and dark wavy damp hair that fell in soft waves he might have been the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on. She blushed and looked at the floor briefly and then back into the mirror. There was no way she could ever have bedded this guy in the normal way. She’d have been too intimidated to even think about it and she was pretty sure that there would be no way he’d bother to even look twice at her.

  He turned and gently took her by the shoulders so they were facing one another. He looked her right in the eyes, lowered his chin for a beat, then he nodded slowly, “You’re still lucid, obviously.”

  “If that’s what you call this,” Kyla felt a twinge at his touch thinking, and you still smell like dessert…

  “Can’t say I’m disappointed,” he smirked, released her, and walked over to the tub and turned the taps until they sprang to life, startling her with the noise. He leaned over and opened a bottle of expensive-looking bath oil that was on a shelf above the taps and poured some in and then walked back to where she stood and plucked the head off of two of the roses and crumpled them over the tub until petals fell in, “Hop in,” he said and motioned toward the tub. He hit a wall switch with his palm and the ceiling opened up as skylight blinds receded and revealed blue sky punctuated with fluffy clouds. He hit another switch beside the first one and jets started going. He left. She reached over and shut and re-locked the door.

  Stupid much, Kyla?

  It had been locked before and he had just unlocked it and walked in. What did she expect locking it to do?

  She stared blankly at the tub that was filling rapidly with water. Finally, she let the robe drop and climbed in. At home there was only a shower. It had been ages since she’d had a bubble bath and she’d never been in a hot tub in her life. The water, the aroma, the motion --- heavenly. But she couldn’t enjoy the lavish bubbles and the gentle waves that the tub produced. She couldn’t possibly enjoy it. On the other side of the door was a vampire. A vampire that she’d had the best sex of her life with.

  His words rang in her ears,

  “I might have to kill you.”

  She cupped her hands, lowered them under the running water, and then swooped water over her face.

  “I might have to keep you.”

  She blew out a long sigh and tried to wrap her mind around this.

  Not disappointed? He seemed fascinated by the fact that she hadn’t been mesmerized by him. But she had to have been, in her opinion, as her body had totally betrayed her. Was it a partial hypnosis where he had control of her body but her brain was still hers? She didn’t know if it was just super sex powers or what. She didn’t know how to reconcile what she’d just endured.

  Kidnapped, the victim of a vampire attack, forced into sex. But was it rape? Maybe two orgasms negated that but no, no, in her mind, she didn’t have a choice over what had happened so rape could be too strong a word but yet this definitely wasn’t consensual. Wasn’t rape just rape, though? There weren’t degrees of it. She said no and he did it anyway.

  But then she’d had the best sleep she could ever remember right afterwards, cocooned by his limbs. It was almost as if she’d watched what was happening rather than being a participant, because in her mind it was all so surreal. She felt like she had a celestial out of body experience but felt absolutely everything at the same time. She shook her head in dismay, feeling so perplexed, not able to decipher things.

  Did he think she was a dead lay the way she went limp and just let him do whatever he wanted? She’d only had a handful of lovers so far and wasn’t typically rendered that useless in bed but had never been with anyone with skills like that, never been with someone who did those things to her, never been with someone who’d brought about those sensations in her. She’d never felt so paralyzed but yet so full of sensation at the same time.

  She laughed out loud at her thought. Dead lay. How long before she was just that? And what the heck was she doing, having a rose petal bubble bath right now and trying to decide whether or not she’d been a dead lay or not?

  She sank into the bubbles and petals and closed her eyes and got her hair drenched. Listening to the water roar into the tub was calming, somehow. She tried to let her mind blank for a few moments, for a momentary breather from her reality before she resumed deconstructing last night and asking herself what was going to happen next. Would she be able to have a reasonable conversation with him today? Would she get away or would he kill her? Her moment alone didn’t last. He was back.

  She shrank as small as she could muster at the side of the tub while he turned the taps off, trying not to look at the muscles on his torso. He trapped her eyes with his as he dropped his shorts and then sank into the bubbles, stretching out opposite her and rested his arms on the ledge on either side of him.

  Damn. So much for not looking. That body. She’d counted up his eight-pack before he disappeared into the suds. And those eyes. Was it because he was a supernatural being or had he been like that as an ordinary man, too? Had he been an ordinary man who got bit or what? And how old was he? Could he be 300 years old?

  The bathroom was bathed in natural light right now and he hadn’t burst into flames or turned to dust or stone. He also didn’t sparkle. He just looked like a male model with the most piercing light blue eyes she’d ever seen, that’s all…

  She wondered how much of what she knew of v
ampire lore was truth and how much was just fiction. She imagined having this conversation with her old friends, back before she moved here,

  Vampires are real.

  What? Get the fuck outta here!

  Nope, they’re real and they don’t need permission to enter your house or to enter your vag with their very huge cocks of steel. They can tolerate exposure to sunlight. They don’t sparkle but they’re fucking gorgeous with glow-in-the-dark eyes. They have super sex skills and smell and taste like dessert. Then, after they fuck you and find brand spankin’ new erogenous zones you didn’t know you had, the g-spot is not a myth by the by; then they drink your blood, of course, duh --- they’re vampires, but wait…guess what else they do? They hold you until you fall asleep and then run you rose petal bubble baths!

  Kyla, you have totally lost it, girl!

  Kyla really missed having girlfriends like that. She had a few sort-of friends that she’d made since moving here but they were all kept at arm’s length and she’d purposely avoided her old friends for very specific reasons.

  He studied her face for what seemed like a long time. She felt so scrutinized, so self-conscious. He was a vampire who had used some super sex hypnosis on her and screwed her brains out last night and drank her blood. He had done what he said he was going to do. So what now? Would he kill her? Could she convince him that she’d be no threat to him if he let her go?

  She was sitting in a whirlpool tub filled with bubbles and rose petals, one of the most romantic settings she could imagine with the most gorgeous guy she would probably ever lay eyes on, watching him stare at her with a perplexed look on his face. He picked up a petal from the water and sniffed it, continuing to look at her.

  “You smell better,” he murmured softly. She flushed scarlet but refused to look away. Moments passed and Kyla felt increasingly uncomfortable in her own skin. But underneath the surface of her skin something weird was happening. Something inside her veins. It was like her blood was heating up.

  “Do I have two heads?” she spat out, suddenly feeling anger cresting and taking over the fear. She didn’t know if challenging him was incredibly stupid or not but the dam of her tolerance had evidently burst. He continued to stare intently, unnervingly, at her.

  “Okay, well you got what you wanted, blood and fucking, so now can you please give me my things back and let me go? Call me a cab?”

  He shook his head at her, “Call you a cab?” his expression changed and he seemed incredulous at the very idea.

  “You have my word already. I said I wouldn’t tell anyone. I don’t make promises lightly. Now please.” She folded her arms and stared at him and then motioned her chin toward the door. He reached into the water and touched her thigh, about to speak. She kicked at him.

  “Out. I need privacy so I can get out of this tub. Go call a cab for me?”

  “Go call you a cab?” he regurgitated her words like they were the most preposterous thing he’d ever heard.

  She huffed, pushing droplets of water off her face while trying to shield her nakedness.

  “Get out! Let’s discuss this in the other room, when I’m dressed. When you’re dressed.”

  “I ran this bath for myself. You just happened to agree to hop in with me. I’m not ready to get out.” Now he was smirking.

  Kyla sank further under the fast-disappearing bubbles. He continued to stare at her, smiling, but seeming to be searching her face for something and shaking his head ever so slightly, as if bewildered.

  “Tristan!” she exclaimed and splashed water at him. His face changed, then, from amused to something else, something Kyla couldn’t work out before he lunged at her, sending water over the top of the tub and onto the floor. He caught her mouth with his and started to hungrily kiss her. He tasted like coconut cream pie.

  “I love how my name rolls off your tongue,” he whispered huskily against her lips, “Give me that tongue…”

  She cried out in frustration. He had her pinned against the side of the tub. She struggled against him and tried to push him off. He was having none of it. She splashed and sputtered as the water rose up and she sank underneath him, her head going underwater briefly. He hoisted her up out of the tub and carried her into the bedroom, both of them dripping wet. She started to squirm and pound her fists against his chest while sputtering.

  “No! What’s wrong with you? P-put me down.”

  Mr. Sex-on-Legs carried her, his eyes full of amusement. He looked like he was enjoying every minute of this.

  “You’re a fucking barbarian!”

  Suddenly, she was down on the bed. She dashed away from him and gave him the slip. She ran, sopping wet toward the door. She heard the lock thunk, as if it’d been locked from the outside.

  She yanked on the doorknob and let out an audible sound of exasperation.

  “Who’s out there?” she yelled, “Help!”

  Somehow he was already soundlessly right behind her, “No one is out there,” he whispered this into her ear.

  “Get away from me you barbarian!”

  He caged her in with his arms and pinned her against the door with his hips and she could feel his hard cock against her lower back, “No escape,” he said in a low and menacing voice and then let out a little chuckle.

  She tried to duck under his arms and get away from him but he picked her up, as if she were his bride being carried over the threshold, and headed back toward the bed.

  She slapped his face. He didn’t even flinch. He almost seemed like he liked it.

  “Put me down, Tristan!”

  Down on the bed she went and he was instantly on top of her, guiding her back against the cushions, caging her in with his arms once again. They were both slippery, she still had bubbles on her body, and she felt panic spike at the intensity on his face,

  “Not a barbarian; just a bloodthirsty and very horny vampire. Do you have any idea what it does to me when you say my name, when I see life and fire in those emerald green eyes? That slap? That just made me hotter for you because you’re making me feel alive; alive, Kyla, for the first time in a long time.”

  She winced, “Get off me.” First she was furious, then she whimpered, trying to shrink into the pillows away from him. There was nowhere to go. The worst part was that it felt like her body was getting geared up for betrayal again. She was naked, he was naked, he was on top of her and he was a heck of a lot stronger than she was. And she could feel that he was hard. She could feel moisture building between her legs, a tightening in her nipples. He was poised at her entrance; it would take just a tiny jerk of his hips for him to be inside of her again. Kyla’s brain told her to get away, her girlie parts, though --- they had other ideas.

  He whispered, nuzzling her earlobe, “Keep saying no. It makes me soooo hard. And when I make you come, call out my name again.” He looked at her with eyes that were so blue, like turquoise stones beneath thick dark lashes. “Please.”

  His plea touched something in her core that she couldn’t name. It was so erotic. She felt her legs being separated wide and she swallowed hard and just waited, waited to give him whatever he wanted to take. What on earth was happening here? Why am I not fighting? Am I under his spell?

  “Don’t. I’m not going to… to come,” she said, getting hold of her wits, sort of. The words came out but she didn’t move.

  He trailed kisses down her throat and down her breasts, making goose bumps rise on her flesh. When he got to her stomach he looked up at her, hungrily, and then erotically stuck his tongue into her belly button and wiggled it, then winked at her.

  “We’ll see about that,” Tristan said.

  She squirmed, “Not happening.”

  “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” He was enjoying every minute of this. But despite his cocky attitude, despite what she knew she should want, what she actually wanted was for him to touch her just where he’d touched her last night, the exact same way. Shame washed over her. Suddenly, his tongue was almost there --- where it had bee
n last night.

  Yes! No! Wait, what? What do I want here?

  He flicked his tongue across the small wound inside her leg, the wound he’d made with those teeth. She was breathing fast and waiting, waiting for him to touch that magical spot of hers, that spot that she knew would have her shuddering again, just like last night. And she wondered if he’d hit that spot inside again, too. The infamous and elusive g-spot? That had to be what that was. She never knew where it was before but now she was so aware of it, it was beyond reason. A whoosh of moisture lubricated her. His stare intensified, burning into her and for a moment she couldn’t look away.

  “You want me, Kyla?” his chest was heaving.

  “No,” her voice was small. She glared at the ceiling and fisted the damp sheets. It was confusing and almost painful to think about what she was now allowing to happen. Why wasn’t she hitting him? Why wasn’t she trying to get away? Her limbs were numb.

  “I think you do,” he whispered but his voice, it almost sounded like he was in pain.

  She felt his tongue touch her there, right where she wanted to be touched. It was heavenly but at the same time she was consumed with so much shame. Kyla heard him moan as he dipped his tongue into her opening,

  “Oh baby,” he said, “You taste amaaaazing. And that’s for me, that taste, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve said no.” Suddenly her voice was strong, “Even if you don’t believe it, I’ve said don’t.”

  She felt pride swell at finding words. He winked at her and kept going. Her conviction hadn’t meant a thing to him.

  She tried to sit up and swung a fist and he caught her wrist before it connected without looking up and just held her wrist while he kept going. She pushed on his shoulder with her left hand but he didn’t budge.

  He pushed her clit hard with his tongue, exerting the perfect amount of pressure, and then she was falling, and fast, tumbling down to that place she’d been last night, the place without self-control. She collapsed back onto the pillows, her whole body starting to shake as the sensations built higher and higher and threatened to shuttle her over a cliff out into oblivion. His tongue swirled, and then he applied pressure, and then let go of her wrist. Her hand fell limply to the bed. His hands slid up and down her thighs and torso, strong fingers massaging, caressing. He looked up at her with intensity, rendering her a doe caught in headlights, stuck and paralyzed by the luminescent blue. It was heady, intense on so many levels. She shook her head and muttered a garbled string of incoherent cuss words, but then hit a peak.