by Ines Johnson
“I’ll never leave you,” I say as I settle down on the cot beside her. “You’re mine.”
“You do remember that I captured you.”
“That you did.” I grin. “And I’m yours.”
“Then you’re going to have to fuck me and put a baby in me. Why don’t we just get it over with now?”
She begins to unbutton her shirt. I don’t stop her. I want to see her breasts.
The twin peaks that appear as she parts her shirt do not disappoint. They are lush brown mounds, topped with the darkest chocolate tips. My mouth waters and my fangs sharpen.
“Can I kiss them?”
Zahara grins, like a cat who has the cream within reach of her paws. She nods, and then gasps as I descend upon her.
I first take the left one in my mouth. I moan at the unexpected taste I find there. I expected her to be nothing but sweetness. Instead, her nipple is the rich bite of dark chocolate. The taste is harsh and not for the faint of heart, just like my wee warrior. The cocoa nibs are tart. They fill me with the warmth of a roasted flame.
I gather her body to me. My panther doesn’t fight me. She wraps her arms around my back and digs her fingers into my hair. I feel claws. And I like it.
Her moan turns to a yelp as I flip her over onto her back. Then I’m on top of her, tonguing every lick of salt I find from the undersides of her breasts, in the valley between the two, and into the nooks and crannies of her pebbled nipples.
“Please, Virius, inside me.”
Zahara lets go of my hair and reaches for my cock. Before she can work her fingers into the knot of my toga, I snag both her wrists in mine. She fights me, yanking to break free of my hold. She’s strong, but I’m stronger. My fear of hurting her lessens.
“You want me inside you?” I ask.
“Finally, he’s getting it,” she huffs.
I keep my hold on her wrists with my left hand. I bring the fingers of my right hand between us. “Open.”
Zahara opens her thighs. I grin down at her. The cheeky kitten. Instead of clarifying my meaning, I bring my mouth to hers. When my lips meet hers, she obeys my original command.
I get lost in the kiss. Lost in her. In the taste, the touch, and feel of her. Her breasts were a dark treat, but her mouth is silky sweet. I’m so lost in the tangle of our tongues that I forget my original purpose.
Oh, right. She wanted me inside her. I’m going to oblige her.
With reluctance, I disentangle my tongue from hers. But I leave her mouth with one last, long lick. It causes Zahara to leave her mouth open, waiting for more. I take the opportunity to dip my index finger between her lips.
She suckles on the digit. The suction causes my cock to steal even more of the low blood supply in my system. I nearly lose my head as Zahara swirls her tongue around my finger, mimicking what she might do to my cock. But like I said, that will never happen. She is far too wee to take on that monster.
With my finger wet, I pull it from her mouth. Zahara whimpers in protest. But when she realizes where my hand is going, she moans with delight.
I slip my finger beneath the waistband of her cargo pants. There isn’t a second waistband that I need to pass beneath her pants. She’s not wearing any panties.
My finger takes its time trekking through the soft curls that hide her treasure. This is not a treasure hunt. I know exactly where the X of her spot is. I simply want to explore her body for a few seconds longer.
It’s not just her body I want to explore. It’s the feelings coming to life inside of me. I’ve never wanted this with a woman before. Sex has always been a job, a means to an end. For the first time in my life, I feel anticipation. I feel desire.
“Please, Virius.”
No woman has ever begged me before. If she was a paying customer, she had free range to do with my body as she pleased. Zahara’s plea breaks a dam inside me. I want to hear that cry again.
I find her clitoris. The little bud is so engorged that my finger slips off and to the side. Zahara gasps and bucks beneath me.
I rub her again, with the same effect. My index finger slips to the other side. I play slip and slide for a few moments, reveling in Zahara’s cries. Marveling as I watch her body tremble at only my touch.
“Please, Viri, please.”
She bucks and whimpers as I leave her clit. It’s a short journey to her opening. I slip my finger inside her.
Well, I attempt to slip inside, but it’s a tight fit.
Zahara’s body tenses as the tip of my index finger breeches her virgin entrance. Immediately, I try to pull out of her untried flesh. Her body clamps down on my finger. She closes her legs, trapping me inside of her.
I don’t complain. I work with what I’m given.
I move in and out of her. Just the tip of my finger. Just an inch, in and out.
“More, Viri, please.”
I know that I shouldn’t. But I can’t deny her please.
Using my thumb, I gather the liquid desire that has pooled between her thighs. With my thumb lubricated, I return to her clit, which has swollen to twice the size since my index finger left it. I press her button with my thumb, making tiny circles.
It does the trick. Zahara’s legs relax open. Her inner muscles give, letting my index finger slide into her. I’m up to the knuckle now.
“Ahh,” she hisses.
The sound is a mix of pleasure and pain. With any other woman, I wouldn’t be able to hear the difference. With any other woman, I wouldn’t have cared.
When I look into Zahara’s eyes, I see the pain is already melting away. All that remains is desire.
“Kiss me,” she says.
I do as she asks. I give her what she wants. Because I am astounded that what she wants is me. My lips pressed against hers. My finger inside her.
Down below, the beast paces. It pulsates with a hunger that only grows. But I am prepared to starve that motherfucker. She can’t handle my index finger. There’s no way she can handle that fat prick.
I work my finger all the way inside her. At the same time, I rub her clit with my thumb. My lips capture her cries as she begins to tumble into ecstasy.
Zahara purrs against my lips as she climaxes, her body shaking and shivering. I swear I can see sparks from her skin as she shudders in ecstasy. There’s a flash of obsidian fur as the tremors abate. Then she lies still.
Her eyes are closed. Her breathing is even. There’s a satisfied smile on her face. She curls into my arms, just like a well-fed kitten, and falls asleep.
I pull my hand from her pants. The tip of my index finger is coated with her virgin’s blood. I stare at the drop of crimson for a long moment. Then, with reverence, I place my finger in my mouth and suck.
My eyes close as more sparks fly behind my eyelids. She tastes like magic. She tastes like mine.
Below, the beast settles, secure in the knowledge that it will have its turn in due course. I push that thought away and pull Zahara securely into my arms. Then, for the first time in my life, I cuddle another living being.
Chapter 10
Zahara
I’m used to sleeping with other people. My family grew up poor, living in the poorest parts of towns and villages. There were always other cousins kicking out on the mattress and stealing the threadbare covers. I learned to train my mind to think of others’ snores as night sounds from one of those fancy spa machines. The snorts and snuffles were accompanied by the chatter of the creepy crawlies out in the fields—which usually harmonized with the snores—because an open window was the only ventilation.
I wake to nothing but a hum in the underground cave. Virius doesn’t snore. He is silent and still in his sleep, which is the reason why I woke. I’ve never had my own room, and I’ve never slept under the blanket of a man.
Virius is warm against my flesh. He doesn’t kick or smother me. He holds me close to his chest, as though I am precious. His body is hunched to the edge of the cot in an uncomfortable position. He holds himself awkwardly, bu
t he doesn’t fidget. The vast majority of the small cot is left for me.
When I awoke, I worried that he might be dead. Because of the prophecy. Not because I care about him.
True, he just gave me an out of body experience with his fingers. Calling that orgasm an out of body experience is a big deal for a woman who can shift her body into another form. I’d nearly shifted as I shuddered in the onslaught of bliss. The panther in me had sat up and clawed to get out. She wanted to experience the pleasure first hand. She’d nearly gotten out, and would have if I hadn’t fallen into the deepest, most contented sleep of my life.
All at the hands of this man. I shift to look down at him. He looks peaceful, boyish even. I tamp down that skip my heart just threatened.
Virius Serrano has no place in my heart. I have to fulfill my destiny, and he is the means to that end. Even though soon after, he will come to an end.
I move from under his arm. When I do, his hand flops down like a lifeless doll’s. My heart skips that beat now. Maybe he is dead?
At the thought, my heart comes to a full stop. He can’t be. He wasn’t even inside me. There is no way I’m pregnant. The books I read weren’t that graphic, but I know enough biology to know that a finger-fucking won’t get me knocked up.
I cup my hand to Virius’s cheek. He is cold to the touch. But I feel the slight hiss of breath from his nose. My chest loosens, and I begin to relax.
I have to remind myself: he is a vampire. He sleeps like the dead because he is not truly alive. He died hundreds of years ago.
I’m going to bang a quadricentenarian, yet the man doesn’t look a day over twenty-one. That has to be how old he was when he was turned. So, technically, he’s my age.
I brush a tendril of his curly hair from his face. He doesn’t stir. For such a big and menacing-looking man, he is so soft.
Virius’s features are relaxed in his sleep. Just looking at his face, it’s hard to believe that he’d hurt a fly. If I’m honest, I can say that this man is beautifully created. At least my son will be handsome.
My fingers brush over Virius’s broad shoulders. The span of them takes up the entire width of the small cot. My own body barely touches the mattress now. Virius is the cushion upon which my body rests. My torso is propped up on his chest and abs. My legs are twined with his.
I move my hand from his shoulders to the center of his chest. I’m surprised to find his heart beating. It’s a faint beat but it’s there. It’s pumping someone else’s blood through his system.
I wonder who he drank from last. I wonder if he’ll be thirsty soon. The thought of him piercing my skin should be disgusting, but I press my thighs together as a vision of it flits through my mind.
I bend my leg at the knee and bump up against the anaconda in his toga. Virius is hard, erect, even in his sleep. I guess that beast never sleeps.
He says he won’t have sex with me because he’s so big and I’m so small. I’m sure every guy thinks that, but with Virius, it is one hundred percent true.
I saw what he is working with. It writhes beneath the cloth even now. His cock is the same thickness as my forearm, and just as long. He might be right. There is no way that thing is getting inside me comfortably.
So why does the thought of trying to fit it in arouse me?
I press my thighs together again. Belatedly, I forget that my knee is in his crotch. So instead of pressing my thighs together, I rub up against the anaconda. It slithers closer to me.
When Virius spoke about his dick, it wasn’t with pride. It was with wariness. He spoke as though his manhood was separate from him as a man.
My hand trails down his chest, which is now bare and rid of that awful shirt. As I move south, the snake under wraps pulses against my thigh. With a glance upwards, I see that Virius still slumbers peacefully.
Maybe his dick does have a mind of its own because it is certainly not slumbering. It’s coiling inside the fabric, like a snake being charmed by the movements of my hand. As I inch closer, it waves, bobbing and weaving to the sound of my quickening breaths.
I move closer. I am at the knot of the toga. With a tug of my thumb, the tie loosens. Just one more tug, and it’ll be enough to set the monster free. The monster moves closer to the binding, ready to strike. My fingers poise to tug, and then—
A hand clamps down on my wrist. I look up to see Virius’s eyes open and on me. He doesn’t say a word, but censure is written all over his face.
“You know this is part of the deal,” I say. “In two nights, there will be a lunar eclipse and we’ll sleep together and make a baby; a son. It’s prophesied.”
“Prophecies are not always what they seem.”
“It’s my destiny to conceive your child and restore the rightful ownership and fruitfulness to the vineyard.”
“I’ve given you the land.” He kisses my fingertips, flicking his tongue over a hangnail I’ve been tugging at all day. “We are having trouble with the crop, but there are people working on it.”
I know that Marechal Durand is working to figure out why the Serrano vines aren’t bearing fruit. I tried to tell her her logic and chemicals would have no effect, but she didn’t listen. Now she’s mated to Gaius Serrano, which she doesn’t seem at all put out about.
That still doesn’t mean she can get the grapes to grow. Only breaking the curse will. And to do that, Virius will need to get busy putting a baby in me.
“I’m rich, you know,” he says without any of the scumminess that a man born in wealth would say. “I can give you whatever you want.”
“I want to fulfill my destiny. That means you coming inside me. Literally.”
“You want me inside you, and you want to come?”
“Yes.”
“Done.”
Before I can gasp in shock, the air is knocked out of me. Virius flips me on my back and is over me. He tugs my pants down and is between my legs. He spreads my thighs wide, and then he’s inside of me.
But not in the way I just asked for. I can’t be bothered to mind as he makes good on his word—and I am coming while he’s inside of me.
Chapter 11
Virius
I warned her that prophecies are not always what they seem at face value. Words are passed down from one person to another. Translated into different languages, all of which have different meanings.
Zahara wanted me to be inside her while she came. I was happy to oblige in her pleasure. Only not with the part of me that she wanted.
With her naked and stripped bare, I shove my tongue into her cunny. No preamble. No light, little flicks. She didn’t ask for that. She asked to have me inside her, and I am.
I have never done this myself. My tongue is a normal size. The women who paid to see me only wanted my cock and the unnatural tight fullness it could give them. They weren’t interested in using or hearing from my mouth, so I’ve never performed oral sex. But I’ve seen it done many times.
I lift my head as I spread Zahara’s thighs. Her cunny is a beautiful blush of dark pink. The ripest of berries.
Her scent makes me dizzy with want. The beast below stirs, throbbing and pulsing as I take her in. I’ve never had much control over my cock. It rose and fucked with its own mind. I would simply turn my mind off until it released into whatever woman was using it. Once it released and went limp, I slowly came back to myself. Until it stirred again, ready to service another.
I ignore it now as it throbs with need. I want this for myself. I don’t want to zone out and miss a single second of Zahara. Not with her pretty mewls and her urgent pants. Her claws dig into my shoulders, enough so I bleed.
I should tell her to stop. But I don’t. I like the thought of my blood on her. I want all to know that she is mine.
I put my nose right up to her flesh, and inhale. She is heaven. My fangs ache to take a bite of her and bring more of that ambrosia inside of myself.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice a mix of desire and uncertainty.
�
��I don’t know,” I admit. It’s hard to form words over the throbbing of both my cock and my fangs.
“Were you about to bite me?”
I close my mouth, but it’s impossible to swallow down the evidence of my desire.
“Don’t,” she says.
Her eyes flash with what I know is fear. Doesn’t she know that I would rip out my fangs if I thought they would hurt her? Already, I’m contemplating castration.
I know Zahara wants my cock, but it can’t give her what she wants. Vampires cannot create new life. My cock has nothing to give her. But I do.
I force my fangs back before I promise her, “I won’t bite you.”
Those are the last words that I am capable of forming. Zahara eyes me warily, but she is powerless to stop what is about to happen. She is a strong warrior, but I want to bring her to her knees. I wrap her knees at my ears and take another taste.
Zahara cries out. The sound of her fills my ears. The taste of her is on my tongue. My hands are full of her flesh as I hold her still.
I don’t have to move my tongue much. She undulates her hips up and down. It’s a tight rocking as I hold her torso.
I allow her the movements, thrilled to know that she likes what I am doing to her. I could lick her forever. I could gorge myself on the taste of her, the velvety feel of her flesh against my tongue.
The more I lick, the wetter she gets. The wetter she gets, the sweeter she tastes. Yes, this is heaven. I will fight any demon who dares to try to take me back to the hell of my prior existence.
I delve my tongue into her opening, so deep that my nose rests on her clit and my chin on her perineum. Zahara purrs, low and deep, more lioness than kitten. I know the sounds of pleasure, having heard them from women riding my cock. I also know the sounds of pain when they take too much of it. Zahara vocalizes only pleasure.
I push deeper inside, needing to fill her with all that I am. She stills as I swirl my tongue, gathering up every drop of her essence. A gasp fills my ears as she inhales sharply. Then there is a long, deep pulsing of her walls around my tongue. More wetness coats my tongue.
