by May Sage
Pro… well, there was that, he thought, as he looked down.
She shifted on her side, exposing her heavy breasts and the curve of her body. He couldn’t deny his attention went right to her left nipple, at first, and for the flash of an instant, he wanted blood – in the worst possible way.
There must have been a piercing there a while back; a little bar was dangling from the right one. However, now it was bare, and also cut in two, like someone had ripped it. He knew just what had happened to her; but seeing the result right in front of his eyes made him want to break something – preferably Vincent’s neck.
But this wasn’t about Vincent; he banned all thought of that vile excuse for a vampire from their bed, ignoring the mutilation and letting his eyes roam over the rest of her.
There was a shapely triangle of tangled copper hair, the exact same shade as the ones at the top of her head. He hadn’t paid attention the first time his head had been buried there.
“I see the carpet matches the drapes,” he noted, conversional, throwing his tie on the bed, and opening his shirt.
She smiled, crooking her finger towards him, making one tiny, teeny little problem obvious.
He was going to embarrass himself. Fuck, he’d almost come then and there.
“Slow down, naughty girl,” he said, an idea that might save him from himself crossing his mind. “I wanna watch you play first. Show me how it’s done, Cecilia.”
Her blush was so damn adorable.
“You want me to…”
“Oh, yes. I want you to.”
From her expression, she’d never been asked before; her partners had most probably been all about immediate satisfaction – theirs, needless to say.
He patted himself on the back for this one. Foreplay was going to be the main dish today.
There was one thing he needed to come to terms with, though: he was going to milk his cock within the next five minutes, whatever happened. But he also knew it would be just as hard about three minute after, especially if she carried on peeking at him under her long eyelashes like that.
She spread her legs wide in front of him and he swallowed painfully. Then, her hand dipped in between, teasing her clit at first; after, one finger went inside…
He opened his fly and took hold of his dick, pumping it, breathing hard with her. She was looking right at him, eyes wide, and after a while, he just couldn’t resist, he had to touch her.
He started kissing her feet, before heading up slowly, lingering at her nub. He kept going up, stopping on her breast to lick her broken nipple, relishing the way his teasing made her tremble. By the time he was in front of her, kissing her lips, his cock was just against her entrance, but instead of taking her like he wanted to, like she wanted him to, he ground it against her.
“You’re so wet, precious,” he told her, when he could force himself to push away from her lips.
She moaned in response, throwing her head back.
He was rubbing against her clit, against her inner lips, and just like that, she was close to coming.
His mouth went to her neck, finding her prominent scar and he bit her right there.
Holy shit, he’d never been as hard. She tasted better than the first cold beer of the day, the bottle of water after a long run, and along with her sweet, refreshing blood, he could taste her arousal increasing exponentially while she fell over the edge.
“Good girl,” he praised her as she drenched his dick. “We do like a good squirter.”
“Michael…”
“What, you want my dick precious? That’s not exactly how it works, though, is it?”
She whimpered, wincing as though the need was physically painful. It probably was, but he knew she could take it.
What she couldn’t take was a gratuitous fuck. If he plunged into her because he could, she’d be grateful now, but later, she’d think it was how the world worked: men took.
“You’re going to have to earn it.”
She was going to have to admit she wanted it – beg for it.
“Please…”
Well, she had that part down.
Smirking, he got up, doing his utmost to ignore his throbbing prick of a dick.
“Ok, precious, here’s the deal. We’ve both had a long day. I think you want to use me as a distraction. I’m not fond of being used, especially if you want to make this a one time thing. You’re going to have to convince me you actually want me.”
She looked shocked to the bones – which was the entire point of his whole speech.
“How?”
He smirked at his own wickedness, sitting down behind his desk.
“Crawl to me, sweetheart.”
Fuck. He hadn’t expected her to obey so eagerly. He’d thought she’d question this and ponder whether he was worth it.
But there she was, on her knees, her heavy breast dangling underneath her.
He couldn’t help it; he pushed it.
“On your back, legs spread as wide as you can. I’m going to bind your legs to the bed,” he informed her casually.
She flipped on her back and brought her legs close to the columns either side of their bed without a question.
Hell. He was quite literally drooling. He should have been ashamed of himself but whatever people said, there was nothing, nothing sexier than a woman free to do whatever she pleased and who, out of all the things she could accomplish with her freedom, chose to obey him.
Cecilia was no slave. She should never have been, she never would be again. What she was was the perfect, consummate submissive.
“Tell me if it’s too tight, precious,” he asked her, restraining one of her ankles with his tie and the other one, with his belt. “And tell me if you’d like me to release you.”
“I’m good,” she smirked, liking her lips, visibly delighted at the turns of events.
If he’d just taken her a few minutes ago, she would have liked it; what they were doing now, though, she loved.
He glided his finger along her pussy, delighted to find it slicker than ever.
“How much do you want this, Cecilia?”
“How much would you like me to bake tomorrow, Michael?”
Well, that settled it, then.
He anchored his arms on either side of her head, aligned against her pussy and pushed in.
Fuuuuuck, that was tight. Her walls shouldn’t have been able to let in a needle, let alone a thick nine inch cock, but she was so wet it worked out, somehow.
He came inside her at the first thrust, like a rookie.
Fuck the minute, though: his dick never softened; a heartbeat later, he was pulling it all the way out and back in, swallowing her rumbly moan. His pace increased quickly, making the furniture tremble and rattle, while his woman screamed, begging him to go harder, deeper.
He was fucking her as though she was a vamp, not a fragile human; he used all of his speed, most of his strength, and she could take it. No, actually: she pointblank loved it.
They came on plain boring missionary, the first time. Then, when he’d released and legs and bound her hands, instead, her orgasm hit when he pounded her ass from behind and rubbed her clit. He followed shortly and next, she was on top. When they were both about to come, he lifted her from his dick and pulled her right to him.
“Sometimes, you gotta put a woman in her place,” he said, sitting her on his face.
His mouth got busy, then.
After she shattered over his mouth, one glance at the window revealed the sun was high in the sky, so bright it made his eyes hurt. It was probably twelve, or some other indecent time.
“We’re probably keeping everyone up.”
She didn’t even sound a little bit guilty about it.
“Oh, they are definitely up,” he smirked.
He put his finger on her lip in a shush motion, and got her to listen.
She smiled back when she heard the noises around them. Sounded like they weren’t the only ones thus occupied in the suite.
God, she was perfect.
Eleven
God, he was perfect. She hadn’t believed it possible for any male, immortal or otherwise, to come more than three, perhaps four times in a row, but at round sixteen, Michael had proven otherwise.
They fell asleep in each other’s arms, exhausted and maybe a little bit sore, but the next day, reality was knocking at the door.
They’d hoped that ignoring the noise long enough would have made it quite clear that they had no intention of emerging for another hour or two.
By the time Michael had made her fly to Neverland twice, it hadn’t stopped yet, so quite reluctantly, they got dressed and headed out. Both of them were positively disgusting, but their intruder deserved that shit for interrupting their marathon.
“What?” Michael growled, snapping the door open in front of Adrian Klein.
“Good, you’re done fucking. Come in the lounge, everyone’s here.”
Everyone apparently meant Jessica, William, Fay, Mark, Knox and others Cece didn’t recognize.
Her eyes went to two women with some surprise because they were both human. The first was in her late thirties, and held herself like someone of importance; the other, quite clearly related, was her age, or maybe Fay’s. Strangely, although she stood in a roomful of vampires, she seemed rather relaxed and quite confident, too, rolling a tiny little dagger that kinda looked like a letter opener around her fingers in a way that was admittedly quite impressive.
Damn, she wanted to know how to do that trick.
“Ok, there’s loads to do so let’s skip the bullshit. I’ve traced the murder on the Gardiner boy to a group of magic users who refused to identify themselves as witches – they call themselves the Sorcerers.”
The unknown girl snorted.
“Lame.”
“Quite. Be that as it may, they are responsible for the incident yesterday. The power of witches comes from nature – most get it out of plants, or even animals. The Sorcerers get a kick out of draining humans of their vital force.”
“But dark magic is forbidden,” Fay interjected. As everyone turned to her, she blushed and added shyly, “I don’t know much, but I’ve looked at it since Xoe White turned up with her bombshell.”
Her bombshell being, “I’m alive and I’ve abandoned you,” as much as, “you’re a witch.”
“I bet the witches want to get rid of them as much as we do.”
“Certainly, however there’s a good chance that they can’t. Dark magic is pretty powerful, unfortunately. We might have to resort to good old decapitating and throwing them in a pyre.”
“I can get behind that idea,” the human grinned, as though someone had brought her a Christmas present.
“What do you need?” Michael asked.
“I have a foot in,” Adrian replied. “I’ve killed enough people to possess some of their magic, and they bought the whole evil persona.”
“Wonder why,” Fay chanted, without looking away from her nails.
He rolled his eyes, before carrying on.
“What I need is for them to trust me. They have an upcoming ceremony and the whole clan will be attending. I want to strike then – but they’ll only invite me if I bring an offering.”
“You mean, someone you can kill?” Fay asked, outraged.
“The idea is to stop them before it gets that far. I’d go for a seventh son, but none of those I know are trained for combat. In case things go south, the bait needs to be able to take care of it. That leaves a woman.”
“I’ll go,” Jessica offered.
Adrian grimaced in response.
“That’s my issue. I wouldn’t be here if I could just pick anyone. It has to be someone valuable to the clan.”
It was obvious that Adrian really, really didn’t want to spell it out; his eyes all but begged someone – anyone – to say it for him, but the thing was, no one had a clue. They were all frowning in a blatant display of cluelessness, save for Michael, who seemed too amused to let Adrian off the hook.
“I need a virgin. The problem is that I don’t know one single adult virgin who can fight. I asked anyone I knew. It’s like chasing a freaking unicorn. Most virgins over twenty one have their head in the clouds, waiting for prince charming. That means they can sew, draw table settings and decorate nurseries.”
Cece saw the woman she didn’t know raise her hand, but no one else seemed to pay attention.
“Sexist much?”
He just shrugged.
“I know my fair share of very competent women; they’re just smart enough to know that their pussies deserve attention.”
The woman, hand still held up above her head, cleared her throat, and the rest of the group finally turned to her.
The older human stared at her, dumbstruck.
“You haven’t… But what about that cute kid you take to your room to do your homework?”
“Mhh… we do our homework?” she hazarded.
Adrian was already shaking his head.
“No. I’m sorry, I can’t take an inexperienced kid.”
“I thought you needed someone inexperienced?”
“In the bedroom. I need someone with field experience, someone older and…”
It all happened pretty quickly. One moment Adrian was blah blahing about the required attribute of his idea of the perfect bait, the next, the girl was up, kicking him right in the face – he managed to block that one, but she also threw her flimsy knife at an angle that caught the fabric of his trousers, planting him firmly where he was. She jumped up, knee first, colliding with his face and wrapped it around his head before using the momentum to flip him.
Result? Adrian Klein, admittedly the most powerful vampire in the world – according to Michael, in any case – was on his ass and the girl sat casually on top of him.
She wanted to be her when she grew up.
The other human smiled proudly.
“Sorry, you didn’t give us much time for introductions. Meet Trisha Hunter, the youngest trainee made huntsman in our history. She’s been through our trials, which do include plenty of field experience. She’s perfectly competent.”
“Oh mom, that was so sweet. Can I have that in writing?”
Things went back to a version of normal rather quickly; by the end of the day, William had rented a home and they were left alone in their suite. There was plenty to do, but his mind was focused on one thing.
The world as they knew it was collapsing around them; William had expected it, and he’d warned him. He’d said the others wouldn’t let vampires rule in peace. It was different when the world had been in the hands of humans – they left them alone, because they had no idea they existed.
His brother had been right all along, there was a fight brewing under the surface.
It meant he’d need to extend his alliances; not only with the witches – shifters were as powerful in their ways. The days when they’d kept to themselves were over.
They’d call their era the Age of Blood – quite fitting. Enough of it would be spilt soon.
First things first, though.
If he was going to open up to this new dawn, he had no intention of doing it alone.
“Hey, you’re back! I’ve ordered Chinese, by the way, is that okay?”
He opened his mind and searched hers quite intrusively, searching for any signs that he might be about to make the wrong decision.
There were none. She loved him, she loved his brother, her cousin, and there was no one else he wanted to do this with.
“Yes.”
“Perfect. Chopsticks or fork?”
He smirked, grabbing the chopsticks she was handing them and throwing them on the table.
“What’s that?” she asked, gesturing to the express delivery he’d gone down to collect.<
br />
The box was a medium size square, ridiculously plain considering what it contained.
“Yes, you can have a tiara,” he said, opening the lid.
Michael knew he would eventually thank his tendency to hoard everything he thought worth keeping. His mother’s crown was perfect for Cecilia; the exact opposite of Daniela’s ridiculous hairpiece. It was a simple band pointing down toward her face, with one single ruby embodied in the middle.
“Losing my sister yesterday has shown me one thing. There is no such thing as forever and every single moment of our life is precious, Cecilia Turner. So marry me.”
Her mouth opened and closed. Four times. At the fifth, she managed to actually speak.
“I’m daydreaming.”
“Nope.”
“You’ve been captured and replaced by a shape shifting alien.”
“Because that’s more believable than me wanting to marry you?” he clarified.
“Yes. Yes, it is. We’ve known each other three weeks, Michael.”
Good point, as usual.
“You do know that the whole Romeo and Juliet drama does happen in three days, right?”
“She was a thirteen year old child and him, an old pervert; besides, look how well that ended for them.”
He had to concede that, too.
“So, that’s a no.”
“Of course not!” Cece sounded quite appalled of the very idea of her rejecting his proposal. “That’s a hell yes. You can report to the mother ship: mission accomplished.”
The end.
Well, that was fun!
Next, we have Priceless, Trisha and Adrian’s story, on pre order now.
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Not quite the fairy tale, book 6
Blanche Wood’s life has always been crazy – voices in your head kinda crazy – but before him, she could deal with it.
Her step-mother would have loved to carve her heart out and eat it the day her father died, but as Blanche is the last of the Woods living in the Woodlands, she had to put up with her.
