Fetish

by Sherri L. King

  She wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles in the dip of his back to hold them fast. Unbelievably, his body sank even deeper into her. Aerin shrieked and bucked reflexively against the blinding pleasure this new angle brought. Her clit was mashed against him, their bodies flush and tightly joined, and deep within she felt a new sensation where that wicked silver bar in his penis caressed her.

  “I can’t…can’t wait…” His body trembled against her, shaking her body along with his, shaking the bed. And then he moved. And moved. And moved. He thrust hard, going deeper, then withdrew. His hips arched then came slamming back down into her, filling her with the thick, hot swell of his hard skin.

  The strength of his hands seemed incredible as they moved to guide her, to teach her the movements that would bring her the most pleasure. He lifted her full weight off the bed, to move her on his cock as easily as he might have moved his hand. His strength frightened, but thrilled her, for part of that preternatural power helped to drive his thrusts hard and deep into the heart of her.

  Her very bones hummed and vibrated.

  The full weight of her breasts shook with the force. Violanti leaned back, bringing her with him so that he sat back on his heels. She straddled him now. He guided her every movement upon his glistening, bronzed body with his hands under her buttocks. Their bodies slapped together. He grunted and bucked his hips as he brought her down with a particularly strong bounce.

  Aerin cried out, digging her nails into his shoulders as she sought solid purchase in the storm of their passion.

  “Come for me, sugar girl. Let me feel that honey pussy squeeze and squeeze and squeeze,” he panted against her mouth.

  His fingers dug into the cushion of her ass, bringing her tight against him, then lifting her up for another thrust. Her clit swelled and throbbed. Her pussy stretched and flooded over his deeply impaling cock.

  The full, firm grimace of his mouth moved to the curve of her neck and shoulder. “Come on love. Give it to me,” he urged, breath harsh beneath her ear. His tongue licked out.

  Her clit brushed against him. Her legs tightened. He thrust deep again, filling her, taking all of her in one deep move. Her cunt throbbed, pulsed. Heat rose in her womb, swamping her. Pleasure sang from head to toe, until her scalp ached. Another deep thrust, another pulse, and she flew straight into the heavens.

  “That’s it baby, come for me. Milk me. Swallow me up.” His mouth opened over her and there came again that deep stab of teeth. Warmth flowed from her to him. Her body jerked on his. His hands came up to clutch at her back, catching her tightly against him.

  His hips bucked between her legs. Filling and stretching her, his thrusts growing harder and faster. His head whipped back as he shouted, a deafening ululation, and warm liquid splashed on her throat and breasts. It stained his mouth.

  She screamed, in fear and in pleasure, still climaxing. Hot, scalding warmth burned her womb and she screamed again. Pleasure and pain, pain and pleasure—she was driven mad by it. And it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but this wondrous, amazing man in her arms. The image of his bloodstained mouth faded, her mind turned away from it, and all fear of him fled.

  Violanti thrust one last, powerful time into the heart of her. They both cried out and trembled like two leaves in a hurricane wind. They clutched tightly at each other, wanting no separation, needing to be as close as possible in that moment.

  Minutes passed. They collapsed back onto the bed, limp. Their breaths calmed, but only just. Violanti licked her clean from neck to nipple, each pass of his tongue ringing another milking tremor from her pussy. The hard length of him still filled her, as hard as ever, stretching her. The thick mixture of his come and hers trickled teasingly down the crease of her ass.

  The room seemed unnaturally hot. Violanti rolled, taking her with him, his body still joined to hers. She rested atop him now, shaken and spent. The thunder of his heart lulled her. The deep, steady drag of his breath into his lungs was timed perfectly with hers.

  An explosion of sound as the door flew open startled a soft cry out of her. Violanti moved immediately to shield her from the unexpected, uninvited intruder.

  “Come quickly! There’s been an accident.” The man was another escort at the club, and quite obviously shaken.

  Violanti’s body was a blur of motion as he rose. He moved quickly to join the man at the door. Unconscious or uncaring of his nudity, he wasted no time to dress, yet he still sported his wicked black boots. He paused only to spare her one level stare before he left. “Stay here,” he commanded imperiously. Without his seeming to touch it, the door shut firmly closed behind him. The lock clicked the minute the latch caught, sounding like a gunshot in the room.

  Panicked, shocked and confused, Aerin trembled, pulling the bedclothes protectively around her. What the hell is going on?

  She hadn’t the faintest idea.

  Chapter Ten

  Violanti looked at the cold, lifeless, human body slumped across the bed. One other occupied the room; a male vamp newly arrived to the club but two years ago. Two years was a very short time to their kind, so long as willing sex or blood could be found, but it had been a long enough time for the young Mitchell to cause trouble. Well, Mitchell was dead now, but that held no satisfaction for Violanti, who would have to clean up the mess he’d left behind. “Maledire. Damn him!”

  “How could this have happened? In this house?” Delilah gritted out, livid with her own anger at the situation. She had arrived at the scene before Violanti by mere seconds, long enough to realize what had happened, but not long enough to think of a solution to the problem they now faced. “With one of our own?”

  “He was not one of our own. Mitchell is—was—newly made. And no one here made him; he came to us from a coven in Chicago. We took him in because of a favor owed to that family. Don’t you remember?” Robin, the one who had immediately gone in search of Violanti after discovering the horror of the two dead men, offered the explanation in a weak and worried tone, knowing it mattered little in the face of this tragedy.

  Violanti’s hard gaze chilled him to his toes. “Then that family owes us now, and plenty, does it not? To release a fledgling, one so obviously careless and inexperienced, into our midst is tantamount to sabotage. Our secrecy is at stake, and our secrecy is what keeps us alive. All of us. Damn him,” he shouted once more, impotent with rage, “the fool.”

  “Burn Mitchell’s body to ash. Do it now before I tear his heart out and eat it!” Robin moved immediately to obey the Madame’s command. Lifting Mitchell’s limp weight in his arms as easily as he might have lifted a sack of feathers, he turned to leave the room. The incinerator, in the dungeon basement of the mansion, would destroy all traces of the careless vampire.

  But the human’s body could not be disposed of so easily. Not so long as their coven’s honor was to be upheld, in any case.

  “What shall we do? This has never happened—”

  “Find out who he is. Who might be looking for him and if they will ask too many unwanted questions,” Violanti instructed in a terse, matter of fact tone.

  Delilah thought for a moment. “I already have your answers. He’s been a regular here, has been coming for almost a year, and he was almost exclusively Mitchell’s lover. He has no close ties to family or friends. Those who might look for him won’t find it too hard to ignore niggling suspicions if offered enough money.”

  “If you are right then we are very lucky indeed. Clean him. Then see to the proper placement of his body and effects.”

  “How could this have happened,” she murmured again, looking close to shell-shocked now, rather than enraged.

  “Mitchell was young. He did not understand the consequences of his actions, or just how great his responsibility was to his human lover. He fed too much and followed his prey into death. If his birth-coven would have seen to his education properly this need not have happened.”

  “What shall we do with them?”

  Violanti knew
the Madame meant the coven in Chicago, not the two dead lovers. “They will be offered the opportunity to make amends. If they do not appease us then we will destroy them utterly.”

  “They will fear us if I but mention our coven master’s name.” Delilah’s smile was twisted over the deadly glint of her now erect fangs. “I know they will beg for the chance to redeem their gross mistake.”

  “Is my name so feared among our kind then?”

  “You know it is.”

  “Then tell them my name. Tell them the Coven of Violent Dark has been offended. Tell them I will have their swift and ample apology or their hearts on a platter, I care not which.”

  Delilah bowed to him, hearing the power of his command, rightfully his as head of their ‘family’. “It will be as you say.”

  “Good.” He turned away, not wanting to see the proof of what he now thought of as his own failure to monitor the untutored actions of one of his own. He made his way back to his rooms, brooding.

  For close to twenty years now he’d been watching over Fetish. The club had initially been his idea, a way for his people to live comfortably in the now smaller world of the new millennium. He had taken twenty of his friends and twenty of their friends to people his new-age coven, and until tonight everything had been close to perfect. His kind needed sex, needed blood, as humans needed food to live. But unlike humans, his kind had to coax their prey to willingness. Neither blood nor sex could be shared between their races without a human’s consent—subconsciously or consciously, it mattered not which—but it had to be absolute.

  If either blood or pleasure were taken by force or if too much blood was taken without being swiftly returned, death was most often the result, for both the vampire and human. As it had been for Mitchell and his human friend.

  Stupid fledgling! Violanti felt the heat of his anger and nearly roared with it. But he wasn’t only angry with Mitchell. He was angry with himself as well. As coven master, he should have seen this coming. But he’d been too busy sliding skin to skin with prey of his own, to worry about the safety of another.

  The scent of Aerin filled his nostrils. The touch and taste and sound of her swamped his senses until he nearly reeled. Would the mere remembrance of her body beneath his always affect him so? He felt weak and strong, starving and completely satiated, all at once. His mind and heart were at war, as they’d never been with any other lover—human or otherwise—and it alarmed him on an elemental level he’d never even known he possessed.

  Was he unwise to bond with her so? To share his fluid, any fluid, with her was close enough to a pair bond that if any of his people caught wind of it they would already consider her his blood-wife. Perhaps he should have used a condom.

  But even the thinnest layer of latex could not have protected her if, in the heat of the moment, he’d not wanted it to. And he hadn’t wanted that barrier between them, no matter how insignificant, not even for a moment. He’d wanted to feel her. Wanted to feel the hot, naked, honeyed walls of her clamping down on him as she came in a flood beneath him. She’d been liquid sunlight in his arms.

  It was the closest he had been to the sun in over five hundred years.

  If anyone had passed him in the passageway they would have seen his enormous erection. But no one was there. He would have ejaculated if not for his monumental control. Control that had weakened where the unfortunate Mitchell was concerned. A pity that. A shame he had to bear. But the Chicago coven would pay, Delilah would see to that. And the human’s body would be taken care of, along with whatever family or friends he might have left behind. It was a tragedy, what had happened beneath his roof tonight, but their kind risked such horrors every night of their existence.

  He only wished he could expunge the horrible guilt he felt over it all.

  The storm of his thoughts and emotions confused him. He was never like this. Cool, calculating, and dangerously methodical, these things were what made him so formidable among his own kind. Not this possessive hunger, this restless desire, or this dark and terrible guilt that intertwined into one mass of puzzling disquiet.

  Aerin weakened him.

  But she also made him stronger than he’d ever felt before.

  Should he bespell her, make her forget him and her time here so that they might both go their separate ways? He growled with angry loss at the very idea. But could he continue with her as he was, seeing her only once every week? Feeling her, smelling her, tasting her but once every seven long and lonely days? He knew that he could not. Not after tonight. After he’d been buried so deep inside of her that he felt the loss of her even now like a bleeding wound in his soul, after only a mere hour of separation.

  He was losing his rigid control, over himself and his coven. Fetish could not afford another mistake like the one that had happened tonight. Something would have to change. And quickly. For the first time since he’d been made into what he now was, he felt the pressure of time weighing on him like a taunting specter, at last finally given leave to punish him for his long, ageless years.

  He heaved a sigh outside of the pink room, where his human consort awaited him. Palming his tumescence in a rough hand, he let his worries fade for the time being. Aerin could not know of his troubled thoughts and heart. He would not ruin her time with him by burdening her with negativity. She had enough of that in her life outside these walls and he would not add to it.

  Besides, he needed all of his energy focused on keeping her unaware of his true nature. Already she suspected, though she was afraid to confront those fears. She’d seen his lapses, his red eyes and bloodied mouth, but she’d turned away from them like a waking child from a bad nightmare. She wasn’t ready to know what he was. Or what he had in store for her.

  And just what did he have in store for her?

  He’d be damned if he knew the answer to that question himself.

  * * * * *

  Aerin stared at the soft pink hue of her surroundings. Her throat was sore, her neck felt bruised and swollen. She knew why…but refused to accept it. There was a limit to how much she could accept just now, and that was beyond the pale. For now, she was focused more on the new sensations of her well-loved body than on frightening hysterical imaginings brought on by hormones during the most incredible orgasm—multiple orgasm—she’d ever had.

  And just what had that fuss about an accident been all about? Violanti had been gone nearly an hour and she’d been trapped here, locked in until he came back to let her out. Was everything okay? Had anyone been hurt—was it that kind of accident? And why should Violanti care, shouldn’t Madame Delilah be the one seeing to it instead of him? Or had it directly involved him in some way, whatever it was?

  An ache throbbed in her womb and a warm trickle of her and Violanti’s mingled fluids fell from her pussy onto the bed. That fluid was stained a rosy pink, like the room, either from the breaking of her hymen or…something else. She pulled the covers tight to her chest and winced at the raw tenderness between her legs. Her cunt felt swollen and empty, as if it had been stretched for Violanti, and now that he was gone it was bereft, longing for his return.

  Her heart felt much the same.

  Confusion bombarded her. Her mind and body were a storm of turbulent emotions she’d never felt before. Emotions she didn’t understand. She’d just had sex with a man who was paid for such a thing. And she’d felt no guilt. No shame. Only pure and amazing pleasure.

  Was that a bad thing? Did that make her a bad person? She didn’t feel that it was so, but general society would undoubtedly find nothing but contempt for what she’d done here in Violanti’s arms tonight.

  What the hell do I care? I don’t. So I paid a man to fuck me—it was wonderful and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. She smiled at herself, no longer surprised that her inner voice was getting a smart-assed attitude, as she had outwardly developed one more often than not lately. In fact, she reveled in the knowledge. She was getting stronger. The meek and mild Aerin of old was almost completely gone now. It was
unbelievable, miraculous even, but it was nonetheless true.

  She had Fetish to thank for that. No. She had Violanti D’Arco to thank for that.

  Her clit burned and throbbed. She wished he’d come back. Her body already hungered for more of his touch. Her heart swelled with anticipation and—dare she even think it—love. Aerin had heard the saying that a woman would always love her first, and she thought now that might be true. Doubly so in her case. And what better man to love than Violanti? He was kind and considerate and smart and sexy as hell. Dangerous too. Deadly. She shivered, growing more and more excited, more and more eager for his return.

  Plainly she was in lust with him already. And she was quickly falling in love with him. Heaven help her.

  She wondered if heaven had anything even remotely to do with it.

  The lock of the door clicked, like a firecracker going off in the silence. The door opened and Aerin jerked upright in the disheveled bed, her gaze flying to meet Violanti’s eyes as he entered the room.

  Eyes that were red as the dawn.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I want you on your knees, Aerin,” he gestured before him, intentions clear.

  She started at the unexpected command. “What happened? He said there’d been an accident, what—”

  His gaze burned, filling her with alarm and confusion. How could his eyes be red? She shied away, mentally and physically. She didn’t want to know that answer.

  “On your knees. Now.”

  Unexpected anger heated her cheeks and breasts. He sounded so—so hard. So frightening. “I beg your pardon?”

  A flash of teeth. “You heard me. Don’t make me repeat myself a third time.”

  Angry, curious at this lightning quick change of his mood, and perhaps a little intimidated by it, she moved to stand before him. “You won’t hurt me.”

  He growled, grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of her head and forced her to her knees before him. Shocked, she could only comply, and his strength was such that even if she’d thought to resist he would have overpowered her anyway.