Sabine was dressed in a simple black jumpsuit. She was curvy, with a pretty smile, and a curly, black afro. Garcelle, on the other hand, was tall and lean with flawless, dark skin and a low-cut fade that left nothing but her striking features.
“It’s very nice to meet you, both. Bienvenue à Louisiana,” Margo greeted.
“Ah, merci,” responded the one Bishop introduced as Garcelle.
“Parlez-vous français?” Sabine inquired in French.
“Very badly,” Margo confessed through laughter.
“We’ll speak English,” Bishop declared. “Come. We’ll have drinks in the den.”
Margo, along with the other women, fell in step behind him. He was relaxed and down to earth. When they entered the den, he offered to make drinks. But Margo felt like he needed to check the sauce that was still simmering on the stove. So, she volunteered.
“What would you like a drink?” Margo asked the ladies.
“Is that Pinot Noir?” Sabine asked, nodding at the table.
“It is,” Margo affirmed.
“I’ll have that.”
“I’ll have the same,” Garcelle concurred.
“So, what brings you ladies to Louisiana?” Margo asked as she poured.
“Bishop,” Sabine responded as if it were obvious.
“He wanted us to meet you,” she added.
“It seems you’re special.”
Margo nearly choked on her wine.
“Special?”
“Oui,” the sisters said in unison.
“So, he invited you here, all the way from Haiti, just to meet me?”
“More like summoned,” Sabine snorted through laughter.
Margo’s eyes narrowed at the woman.
“Why?”
“I told you,” Garcelle responded. “You’re special.”
Margo wanted to ask the women what made her so special, but Bishop interrupted them with hors d’oeuvres.
“Crab cake?”
Chapter Seventeen
MARGO
“Dinner was très magnifique. Thank you,” Garcelle attested.
Margo and Bishop escorted them to the front door.
“It was my pleasure. Thank you for joining us,” Bishop responded.
Both ladies turned toward Margo while Bishop opened the door.
“It was delightful to meet you, Marguerite. You will contact us when you make your first trip to Haiti?”
“Absolutely. I’ve enjoyed the evening. It was good to meet you both.”
And it was.
The conversation between the four of them flowed easily. Margo found herself comfortable with the ladies. By the time dessert came out, they were all roaring with laughter. She did, however, find it strange that the ladies seemed to take a special interest in her family’s history. Specifically, her father; a topic that she knew little about. Like Enola, she’d never met her father. But, unlike Enola, whose father was dead, Margo’s father was somewhere, alive and kicking. He just wasn’t giving a damn about her. Margo changed the subject as fast as she could.
As a child, she’d learned not to ask about her dad. Her gran always seemed annoyed by her questions, and her mother evaded the subject altogether. Truthfully, Benjamin had been the closest thing she had to a father. So, Margo just stopped asking about him.
Bishop gave both women a double kiss, European style.
“Basile is waiting to take you to the guest house,” he told them.
Margo looked past him at Basile, who was waiting in a golf cart out front. Bishop had given her a quick tour, but she had no idea how big the estate really was. They stood in the doorway and watched as the women boarded the golf cart. When they rode off, Margo turned to walk back to the dining room. But Bishop grabbed her wrist, preventing her departure.
“Where are you going?”
“I was going to clear the table.”
Bishop grinned. With a chuckled, he said, “We’re not doing that.”
Margo was fine with that. She was just trying to be helpful. Truth be told, she didn’t clear the table at her own house.
“Cool. Well, thank you for dinner. I have to say... I am very impressed by your culinary proficiency.”
Bishop pulled her close, capturing her with his gaze.
“Coming from you, this means a great deal.” His words rumbled softly and seductively.
Margo’s eyes roamed his handsome face. Having no desire to restrain herself, she stood on the tips of her toes and pushed her fingers into his thick, blonde mane. Boldly, she pulled his head down until his face met hers and pushed her lips to his. The fever in which he engaged in the kiss matched that of her own desire.
Bishop’s large hands cupped her ass and pulled her against his hard body. His taut erection bumped her stomach. With ease, he lifted her from the floor. Margo wrapped her legs around him. Without shame, she wantonly pushed her thirsty box against the big bulge behind his pants. Just the feel of him, pressed against her body, was rendering her breathless.
Margo threw her head back and drew a deep breath, giving him access to her neck. He peppered sensual kisses just below her jawline. His tongue glided over the sensitive skin of her neck and caused her to tremble. She was in a tantric haze. With her fingers pressed into the sinewy muscles of his back, Margo held on tight. She was grinding her pussy against his hard-on until she was nearing satisfaction.
Her quivering breath echoed throughout the foyer. Margo knew that she was acting like a feverish nymph, but she couldn’t help it. She’d climbed him, mounted him, and now she was grinding on him like a bitch in heat.
Bishop held her close and carried her over to a console table. He shoved a vase aside and sat her in its place. He made sure she was secure and took a step back, bathing her with his scorching gaze. What she must’ve looked like; spread eagle, squirming on the table, and winded with lust. He tore her panties off, and Margo was too far gone to care.
Bishop ripped the expensive shirt from his body, and Margo’s hooded eyes stretched wide at the first sight of rippled muscles that ran down his torso. Bishop’s strength and beauty put most men to shame. Then again... Bishop was no man.
His gaze never wavered as he worked the fly of his slacks, and Margo’s eyes never wandered from his magnificent form. That was until he stepped out of his clothes and unveiled a long, thick tool that was ready to work. A dick like his was sure to leave an impression. There was a distinct possibility that she’d be walking funny for a while.
“Damn, Bishop!” she cursed breathlessly.
With a knowing smirk, he raised a brow and wrapped his long fingers around the shaft of his manhood. He had to know a dick that size was as coveted as a prize bull in a rodeo.
Margo slipped her finger through the buttons on her blouse and worked it open. She allowed the soft material to glide down her arms, which left her in a lacy, black, canopy bralette, and a tiny skirt that had risen enough to expose her matching panties.
Bishop’s eyes darkened with erotic ferocity. As he stalked toward her, fear and lust shot through her veins like electricity. It looked as if the ravenous beast that rested inside of him was going to claw its way out.
Margo couldn’t decide whether to run to him or from him. Yet, when his hand gripped her hip, she realized it was too late to make a choice. Faster than she could ever expect, Bishop reached down and tore the thin fabric that was keeping her somewhat modest. He pulled her to the very edge of the table and guided his thick venous shaft to where she opened.
Margo closed her eyes, inhaled a deep breath, and held it. She gripped his upper arm and steeled herself in preparation for his entry.
“Look at me,” he commanded in a voice that was deeper than usual: almost inhuman.
Margo’s eyes flew open. She sat petrified, staring up at frighteningly sharp fangs that had descended from his gums.
“I want you to see the beast that’s fucking you.”
The brashness of his words made her gasp. Alas, Margo was more horny th
an afraid. She grabbed his ass and stared into his eyes as she pulled him closer. She reached between them and guided the engorged head of his dick inside her channel.
Even though she was wet, ready, and hungry for him, Margo nearly screamed. She didn’t. Instead, she closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip.
Bishop wrapped an arm around her waist and held her as he pushed into her as far as her body would allow. He stilled, just long enough for her to adjust to his size. With his other hand, Bishop cupped the back of her head. Margo could feel his breath as he whispered in her ear.
“Shh... that’s it, baby. Let me in,” he coached.
Bishop’s deep rumble and soothing words put her at ease. Her passage muscles relaxed around him as he retracted. He pushed into her again and Margo was better prepared. His strokes were gentle but purposeful. He repeated the action. Pain turned to pleasure. Margo could hear the change in her breathing. Quick breaths slowed to a more sensual pace.
Bishop must have sensed that she was ready for more. And more is what he gave her. With his fingers pressing against her flesh, he forged into her sheath with enough force to make her cry out.
“OH, SHIT!”
“Mmm,” he moaned. “Yes.”
Margo held onto his back as he drove into her repeatedly with a dick that didn’t come with the average man. With each stroke, her body bounced. The feel of her erect nipples, sliding up and down his chest, created another erogenous zone. What started slow and cautious turned powerful and feral. Margo gave as good as she gave. She was riding each powerful thrust in a fierce race to an orgasmic finish. The sound of the console table crashing violently against the wall reverberated throughout the entire room.
“Ahh, Bishop!” she cried through heavy breaths. “Ohh!”
Wet proof of her arousal drizzled down her ass to the table, causing her to slide. In a swift motion, Bishop lifted her off the table. He gripped her ass and bounced her up and down on his massive rod until she was clawing his back. It felt as if even the tiniest of nerve-ending had come alive and danced beneath her skin.
Bishop fucked her with a skill that could have only been perfected through hundreds of years of practice. Pleasure like no other took ahold of her. A tremble that started in her thighs and progressed into full-body convulsions. Seconds later, a powerful orgasm ripped through her like a merciless tsunami.
Bishop pounded her through every ripple, every wave, drawing every drop of come from her throbbing pussy. A hoarse scream poured from Margo’s throat. She didn’t recognize the voice as her own, since she’d never heard it like that before.
“Ahh, yes,” Bishop rasped as he pounded away.
Margo could feel him stiffen as he impaled her with one last powerful thrust.
“MARGO!” he choked before pulsing hot streams of cum inside of her.
Margo’s body went limp and fell against his. Her shoulders heaved as she sucked much-needed oxygen into her lungs. Exhausted but grateful, she survived a beast-fucking by a vampire. Bishop lifted her in his arms. Thankfully, because she had no confidence in her ability to walk.
“I got you,” he whispered just before her eyelids turned heavy. “I got you, chéri.”
Chapter Eighteen
ENOLA
Enola lowered the window and searched through a sea of travelers until she spotted her best friend.
“Crystal!” she called until her friend spun around.
Crystal’s eyes stretched wide with excitement when they landed on her. Enola hopped out of the backseat and ran toward her. They flew into each other’s arms as if it had been years since they’d seen each other. It hadn’t, but it felt that way.
Enola missed living in Chicago. Sure, Louisiana was steeped in tradition, history, jazz, and culture. Not to mention delicious food. Unfortunately, it was also the home of witches, wolves, vampires, and voodoo.
“Oh, my God, Nola, it is soo good to see you,” Crystal squealed, close to her ear.
“You too, Crys. I have missed you like crazy.”
Enola released her and took a step back.
“Where’s Dania?”
Crystal’s smile faded. She was silent a little too long. Enola knew something was wrong.
“Crystal, where is Dania?” Enola repeated.
Crystal turned her back to her and grabbed her roller bag. When she started toward the SUV, Enola took the bag from her hand. She waved toward Rafa, her driver, who was charged with also protecting her.
“Rafa will get your bags. Come on, get it in.”
Enola grabbed her friend’s hand and led her inside. Once Enola got in, she looked over at Crystal. Her bestie was avoiding eye contact and worry rippled through Enola.
“What is it, Crys? Has something happened to Dania?”
Crystal shook her head. “She’s fine. She’s with her dad for the summer.”
Enola could feel the frown forming on her face.
“With her dad, where? Where is he going for the summer?”
Crystal turned to her, finally making eye contact. The sadness in her eyes was troubling.
“We’re separated. We have been for 4 months.”
“WHAT?” Enola exclaimed.
The last time she saw Ray and Crystal, they seemed happy. At least, that’s what it looked like.
“What happened?”
“Another woman,” Crystal blurted.
Enola’s mouth flew open.
“Get the fuck outta here? Ray wouldn’t do that!”
“Ray did that,” she muttered.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Didn’t wanna talk about it. I mean... it’s embarrassing.”
Rafa opened the door and climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Well, I was planning to take you to a late dinner in the quarter, but we can just go to the house if-.”
“No,” Crystal interjected. “I need to get out. Dinner in the French Quarter sounds perfect. Let’s go.”
“Okay, well, Gideon has a friend who owns a restaurant. It’s a fun, casual, real laid back, easy kinda joint.”
Crystal sat back against the seat.
“Sounds like a winner,” she exhaled.
They rode in silence for the twenty minutes it took to get to Maison Bourbon. Rafa dropped them off at the entrance and pulled ahead to park. They walked through the floral lined courtyard to get to the patio lounge. Abuzz with laughter from, more than likely, tourists, they found seats at a table and settled into them.
“Nola!”
Alice’s fiery red hair stood out in the crowd of patrons. She hurried toward them with a big smile. With every step, her perky breast bounced in the barely-there tank top, and her hips swayed back and forth in skin-tight jeans.
Alice was a brilliant businesswoman, a tough wolf, and a great friend to Gideon. But the first thing most saw was her beauty. Alice was sexy, and she knew it. She was well aware of all the eyes on her, but she never seemed to give it a second thought.
“Who the fuck is that?” Crystal inquired in a low tone.
She couldn’t have been aware of Alice’s supernatural ability to hear.
“She’s a friend of Gideon’s.”
“Hmph... you must be outta your mind. You better keep that redheaded goddess away from your man.”
When Alice made it over to them, Enola could see that she was fighting laughter. Enola shrugged with a smile.
“That old dog finally let you out of the house!” Alice joked.
“Call him a dog to his face,” Enola challenged.
They hugged with laughter. Enola stepped out of Alice’s embrace and turned to Crystal.
“Alice, this is Crystal, my friend from Chicago.”
The ladies shook hands.
“It’s nice to meet you, Crystal. Welcome to my place.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you too.”
Alice turned to Enola.
“I’ll set you guys up at my table. Come with me.”
Alice led them to a private t
able in a softly lit corner. From her table, there was a view of the entire establishment.
Perfect.
Enola had prayed that there were no magical confrontations while Crystal was around. But if something were to go down, at least they were in a position where they could see trouble coming.
“Have a seat. Someone will be right over to take your order,” Alice told them.
“Thanks,” Enola responded.
When Alice nodded and walked away, Enola and Crystal sat.
“I see y’all got friends in high places,” Alice commented.
“You have no idea,” Enola muttered.
She picked up two menus, handing one to Crystal. After browsing the menu, Crystal asked, “What’s good here?”
“I love the etouffee.”
“Can I get you ladies something to drink?”
Enola looked up at a handsome, young, waiter. His skin was the color of coal, and he was baring a beautifully white smile that could stop a woman’s breath.
“Goddamn,” Crystal cursed under her breath.
“I know, right?” Enola muttered.
The server raised a flirtatious brow.
“Drinks, ladies?” he repeated.
“Jameson, on the rocks,” Enola requested.
Seconds passed while waiting for Crystal to order. Enola looked over at her friend, who seemed a bit stuck. She kicked her under the table, snatching her out of the lustful daze. Seriously, the man was handsome, but he was no Gideon.
“Order!” Enola gritted through her teeth.
“My bad,” Crystal apologized with a giggle. “I’ll have the red sangria.”
“Right away. My name is Stephan if you ladies need anything.”
“Thank you,” Enola responded politely.
She turned to Crystal with wide-eyed laughter.
“Well, you don’t seem all that broken up by your separation.”
“Shi-id, that bastard left me for another woman. What am I supposed to do, crawl in a hole and die?”
BLOODLUST Page 13
