by Lizzy Ford
Shaking my head, I leave the bar floor and enter a hallway lined by the small rooms. I glance into the first I cross and pause, openly staring. It’s not just the food smells, it’s the six people engaged in sex that hold my attention. Two men and a woman on one side, two women and a man on the other. The rich scent of sex is thick in the air, as are the grunts and cries of those involved. My eyes stick to the woman with two men. She’s on her back, the dick of one man down her throat while the second man’s cock plunges in and out of her pussy. The men’s hands are everywhere, squeezing her nipples, stroking her clit, exploring her body.
She’s in utter ecstasy.
Aroused to the point I’m overheating, I step away and try not to let myself become distracted by the similar scenes playing out in the other rooms lining the hallway.
I fail completely and pause a few more times, pulled deeper into the smells, away from logic as my inner predator rears its hungry head.
If I had known reaching the restrooms was going to be such an ordeal, I’d have stayed in the bar. I make it finally and close and lock the door behind me. My heart is racing, my pulse soaring from desire. I’m trembling from head to foot. Steadying my breathing, I hide out in the bathroom for a good fifteen minutes, unable to escape the scents of those people in the hallway, and afraid to leave before I have somewhat of a handle on myself.
Which is impossible. The minute I open the door, I’m salivating, and my pussy is dripping. I don’t know what I want more: sex or blood. They both smell like heaven right now.
Slamming the door closed, I lock it again and curse. Myca warned me not to leave his side. I just had to do it, though, because I, too, am a rebel. I’m not sure how I’m going to make it back to the bar without attacking someone.
I lean against the door and debate what to do. The obvious solution, asking Myca to come get me, also infuriates me. Is this what he’s waiting for? Me to need him for something? Or … do I want to avoid an I-told-you-so badly enough I’ll spend the night in a bathroom?
Pulling out my cell, I text him. There’s an awesome painting in the bathroom. You should see it.
I hit send and roll my eyes, suspecting he’ll see right through my message.
And … he does. His response makes me curse.
Been there. Seen it. ;-)
“Dammit, Myca. Just work with me here,” I groan and sigh. I text him again. Fine. I’m trapped in the bathroom. If you don’t help me, I’m going to eat someone on my way back to the bar.
No response. The message is marked as read. I lower the phone and wait, hoping he’ll be a good sport. After all, it’s in his best interest to save the life of the next poor human who crosses my path.
Not two minutes later, there’s a tap at the door.
I open it and gaze up at him. “Go ahead and say I-told-you-so,” I snap, agitated by the combination of arousal, hunger and frustration.
“I got you a snack.” He glides away from the door towards one of the rooms lining the corridor.
Curious, I follow him, thoughts on a room filled with cupcakes.
There’s a human in the room already, a slender man with a smile who smells of cranberry-orange muffins.
I stop and snatch Myca’s hand, unable to take my eyes off the guy. “Bad idea!”
“The humans here are paid employees,” he explains. “And I’m here to make sure you don’t go overboard.”
“I’m Barry,” the guy says. “You won’t hurt me.”
“Um, I think I might,” I say and glance at Myca.
“Barry suffers from an injury. He feels nothing in his right arm,” Myca explains.
I notice then that Barry’s right arm is limp at his side and more scarred than mine. “Myca, I don’t like this idea.”
“You can’t be a temporary vampire and not suck a human’s blood at least once,” Barry says with a laugh.
“You know who I am?” I ask, surprised.
“Every vampire here does, and they all talk. So yeah, I know who you are.”
My fangs are out, despite the fact I’m not at all certain I want Barry’s life in my hands. I should never have been born a Kingmaker. I can’t be trusted with one life, let alone thousands.
Barry takes my hand with his good one before I can protest and tugs me over to the couch.
His sweet-sour scent is clouding my judgment. A tiny voice whispers for me to walk away while another screams at me to drain him until I’m full.
This feels like another of Myca’s tests. Does he want to see if I lose it, if given the chance? Is he testing my Kingmaker magic again?
I don’t like these little tests of his. They seem to end badly for me.
Myca sits nearby while Barry pulls me to sit beside him on the couch.
“So gross.” I wipe my mouth. I’m salivating, dripping slobber down my fangs that falls onto Barry’s jeans. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Really.” Barry lifts his limp arm with his good one and holds it out.
I snatch his wrist with one hand and then recoil. I’m a fucking mess. My internal battle holds me trapped and motionless for a moment.
“It’s okay,” Barry tells me again and strokes my hair, like I’m a werewolf again. “We get paid well to be here.”
Not well enough, I argue silently. No one could ever pay me to become a vampire’s meal!
“The bloodlust for humans isn’t as strong as it feels. Once you find that out for yourself, you won’t be afraid to be around humans.” Myca shifts to Barry’s other side and takes his limp arm. “You’ll only learn to control it by dealing directly with it.” His fangs extend three inches from his mouth, and he lifts Barry’s wrist to his lips.
I immediately look at Barry’s face when Myca’s fangs sink into the human’s wrist.
He’s still smiling, apparently telling the truth about having no feeling in the mangled arm.
“Try.” Myca holds out the bloodied wrist. He licks drops of blood from his fangs.
My craving for cranberry-orange blood is overwhelming. I lean forward and breathe in the scent of Barry’s skin, shivering in pleasure, before I very carefully bite into him.
He tastes exactly how he smells, and I suck down the blood hungrily and try to pinpoint what it is about his blood that’s … lacking. When I drink from Myca, my senses are engaged and I’m floating in a world where only Myca and I exist.
With Barry, it’s just … fast food. Satisfying but not fulfilling like a gourmet meal. It definitely wouldn’t stop me in my tracks how Myca’s blood does.
I’m disappointed without understanding exactly why. Removing my fangs from him, I lean back and gaze at the blood on his inner arm.
“You’re okay?” I ask Barry.
He nods.
“You see?” Myca asks. “It’s a little underwhelming.”
“Yeah. It is,” I reply. “That makes no sense.”
“Barry.” Myca nods towards the door.
The human stands and leaves us alone.
“It’s a defense mechanism the younger vampires have,” Myca explains. “Vampires my age didn’t have the benefit of the mechanism. I had to learn the hard way. A lot of people died to teach me that lesson.”
I eye him, unable to shake his brutal honesty about feeding. Rather, unable to forget he’ll feed off me at some point, and hoping it’s neither as painful nor as terrifying as I’m imagining.
“The difference between a human’s blood and mine.” He taps a sharp fang with his finger.
I snatch his hand before I see the blood form. Embarrassed, I drop it, but can’t look away. A drop of his blood fills my senses with inhuman craving and comfort, a combination that’s hard to understand.
He offers the finger to me, and I hesitate before leaning forward to slide my lips around his finger. The flavor of his skin is as tantalizing as the scent of blood, and I tease him, twirling my tongue around his finger before sucking hard.
His small drop of blood has reignited the insatiable need at my core.
As with Tristan and Ben, I sense there’s more to this question than the simple proposition of sex. I can’t decipher this instinct, though, or why it seems so important. I’m curious to see what’s behind Myca’s laid back façade and a little worried as well. I fell straight into Tristan’s soul. I can’t handle another relationship like that, however brief my time is with Myca.
I’m not entirely certain how to respond. My pulse is racing, my imagination filled with images of Myca sucking me dry. I don’t want to trust him, don’t want to leave, don’t want to miss out on fucking a vampire.
Myca nips his wrist and holds it out. It’s not peace I sense this time but … fire. Lust. Desire. All raging within his blood.
Shifting closer to him, I take the offering certain to damn me and run my tongue across his wrist without breaking eye contact with him.
He smiles, understanding my silent answer. Cupping my neck in one large hand, he leans forward and captures my lips with his own. Traces of Barry’s blood remain in his mouth, mixing with his own darkly sweet flavor, and I open to him within seconds, hungrily trying to devour the taste that is Myca. One of his arms goes around me, pulling me into his body.
I can do this. I can fuck Myca without falling for him, I repeat to myself, over and over. I’ve fucked a lot of guys in my time, and never fell for one of them, until Ben and Tristan. But I know better now. I can protect my heart while Myca pleasures my body.
The feel of his pulse beneath my fingertips sets my hormones on fire, and I break off from the kiss, smelling the skin of his neck with frantic need I don’t quite understand.
“Try it,” he whispers, voice thick with desire.
“Try what?” I lift my head.
He grips my hips and lifts me on top of him. I straddle him eagerly. His erection presses against my wet pussy through our layers of clothing. With one arm steadying me, he touches two fingertips to the side of his neck.
“Bite there,” he instructs me with patience I’m not feeling.
Lowering my head to nuzzle him where he indicates, I hesitate. The scent, along with the steady thump of his heartbeat, is maddening.
“Myca …” I murmur. My fangs are dripping with drool, and I’m struggling not to puncture his neck with reckless abandon until I find the blood that’s calling to me. I don’t want to hurt him, don’t want to fall into his world. “I’m afraid of hurting you.”
“You won’t. You’ve seen firsthand how fast vampires heal,” he reassures me. “Stop fighting the magic. Let it take you where it will.”
“People get hurt when I do that,” I say in a hushed voice and rest my cheek against his stubbly jaw.
“Trust me, Leslie.”
I close my eyes, torn between believing him and knowing I’ll somehow fuck up his world, too, if given the chance. I’m so frustrated, so tired of being confused, so hungry, I want to scream.
“Bite me, Leslie,” he commands quietly. His grip around me tightens, and he slides one hand down my pants, towards my aching clit.
Fuck. I was screwed the day I met Myca. Some part of me knows this. I don’t want to hurt him but can’t walk away, not with his scent in my nose and his swollen dick calling to my pussy. The sense his magic is so much more than me, that I’m along for the ride with no hope for control, scares me.
Myca’s fingers slide into my cunt, and I bite him.
His blood gushes into my mouth. It’s not memories this time, but … need. Hard, fast, desperate. It sweeps over me, and I latch onto his neck. I’m drowning in lust unlike any I’ve ever experienced, aware of sliding once more.
“Good,” Myca whispers. “Very good.” He pushes me away and stands.
Dazed, I steady myself and stare at him, quivering in yearning. Blood trickles down his neck. He whips off his shirt, and I visually follow the trail of blood down his muscular chest and side, to the muscle of his Adonis belt that form a perfect V pointing towards the bulging cock hidden in his pants.
He unbuttons his jeans and slides them off, revealing his incredible cock, thick and long, before tugging my shirt off. Myca’s mouth claims mine once again, and I hungrily run my hands down his sculpted torso to his thick dick. This type of lust is beyond my ability to control. It’s consuming, to the point I’m barely aware of what I do. I’m too desperate to feel his skin against mine, for his cock to sink into my pussy and my teeth into his neck.
Dropping to my knees, I take the tip of his cock into my mouth briefly and swirl my tongue around the soft head before replacing my lips with my hands. My eyes go to the blood trail that’s almost reached his thigh, and I lean forward and begin lapping it up. I lick my way up his body, massaging his cock as I do, and lift onto my toes, trying to reach his neck again.
“I had a feeling you’d be wild,” Myca says with a husky chuckle. He leans back deliberately, teasing me, holding me in place against his body. I rub myself along his length, pushing my hips against his erection and shivering at the feel of his hot skin sliding against me. “I’m happy to give you what you want, Leslie. Remember it comes at a price.”
I’m too desperate to care. I claw at him, needing to taste his blood again.
Myca lifts me and rests me on the couch, pinning my hands so I can’t touch him. The subtle display of strength tugs me out of my lust, and for a moment, I recall who I’m with. More specifically, what I’m with. A predator who’s managed to prey on humans for twenty thousand years, who claims not to have the mechanism that’ll force him to stop before he drains me.
He senses it, too, the fear I imagine prey experience when they encounter something like him. Myca releases my wrists and runs his hands down my sides before rolling onto his back with me on top.
“You first,” he says and tilts his head so I can reach his neck. His palms skim down my back and ass then back up. His cock is squeezed between us, and I rub myself against him, loving the feel of his hard erection.
Any fear I feel vanishes, and I sink my teeth into his neck.
God he tastes like … everything I need in my life, everything I love, everything I want. And nothing at all. It’s maddening to try to identify, and I feed with inhuman lust, wanting to capture the flavor that’s just outside my reach.
My pussy is screaming almost as loudly as my hunger, and I break away from his neck, starting to slide again, and sit up. It terrifies me to feel this way, to know I’m about to lose myself, and only Myca can catch me.
His thumbs tickle my nipples. I position myself and sink down onto him with a groan. His dick fills me, and I let my head drop back, relishing the near ecstasy of experiencing him inside me.
But his cock is not enough. I lean down once more and sink my fangs into his neck.
That’s when I feel it – the sense of complete fulfillment, of being right where I belong.
Myca thrusts his hips upward slowly, rhythmically, letting me enjoy the sensations of fucking him and feeding from him, letting me determine how far and fast we go. The tension building inside me promises to be explosive. I rub my clit against him and lose myself in the sensation of his dick sliding in and out of me while guzzling the essence that’s purely Myca. Lifting my head, I suck in a deep breath to keep from sliding too far out of control.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he whispers and nips my collarbone.
I shiver.
“Think you can handle it?”
“Fuck yes.” I breathe and open my eyes to gaze down at him.
“We’ll see how tough you Kingmakers really are.” He’s grinning. With effortless ease, he rolls us once more and withdraws from my body.
Myca kisses me hungrily before trailing hot kisses, nips and licks down the side of my neck.
I freeze when one of his fangs brushes against the sensitive skin. The idea of him biting me is exhilarating – yet terrifying. What’s stranger: I want him to. I want to know what it’s like for him to pierce me in mor
e than one way, to drain my life force. The unusual yearning is purely vampire, purely me for the week.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he kisses, nips and licks a path down my body, drawing tiny droplets of blood with his fangs and lapping them up. The pricks of pain only enhance the pleasure and anticipation, and throw my mind into a state of awareness that makes me almost giddy.
When he reaches my pussy, he presses an oversized incisor against my clit.
“Oh … shit,” I breathe.
And suddenly, I figure out why fucking a vampire might also be hazardous. Fangs and delicate body parts? Is it such a good idea?
Before I can ask him, his tongue strokes my clit, and I forget the fangs.
Myca sucks, nibbles and strokes my clit, my inner thighs and the swollen lips of my pussy. His fingers slide into my pussy, another into my anus, and he moves them rhythmically while his mouth conquers my clit. It doesn’t take long for me to arch beneath the attention, close to orgasm.
“Now for the surprise.”
Dazed, I lift my head to glance down at him and his position with his head hovering over my pussy, between my thighs.
Are his fangs longer? Unease flutters through me.
He kisses my clit, and I relax, my mind unable to form much of a thought beyond coming.
Seconds later, I give a strangled scream. Myca’s fangs slide into the mound of my pussy, nicking the muscles of my clit as they do so. The result is exquisite torture – a combination of sharp pain and dizzying pleasure, an orgasm smashing through me accompanied by awareness so sharp, I can see specks of dust on the ceiling.
Bucking beneath the orgasm, I barely register Myca’s teeth leaving my body. He rests on top of me and slides his cock into me, his fangs dripping with blood and eyes bright with desire. He rides my passion with fervor, kissing and nipping my face and neck, his hunger flaring to life.
“Time to pay up. First time will hurt,” he whispers.
Speechless, I barely register what the hell he might be talking about and cling to him, my hands exploring the hard planes and shapes of his muscles. He eases out of me and rolls me onto my stomach before covering me with his athletic frame once more.
