Blood Wicked (11 page)

She’d never let anyone touch her like that. It felt so amazingly good.

And pain vanished.

He slid two fingers into her cunny, while his tongue made mind-numbing spirals over her clit. Her passage clutched and squeezed as though begging for his cock. She’d never been so wet. She’d never felt so empty inside.

She needed him. Ached for him.

She was wantonly grinding her face on him. She stopped. She must be hurting him.

But his hand tightened across the cheeks of her rump, pulling her tighter to his face. He must like her being rough. He clamped her so her cunny was pressed tight to his mouth. His fingers slid out of her quim, but his index finger still played merry havoc with her tense, aroused anus.

It was so good. She’d forgotten pain. And warmth blossomed inside her. Warmth fired by the intense heat in her quim, the heat of Heath’s hands on her bared bottom, the heat of his breath blowing across her most intimate place, and the slick fire of his tongue licking her.

His every caress felt intense, as though she’d never been touched before. Certainly no one had ever licked her quim while dallying with her bottom. Then, to her shock, he slid his finger slightly inside her rear. Withdrew. Did it again.

Her body resisted. But she liked it, and that resistance made it all the more thrilling.

Then he did everything to her at once. He flicked her clit with his tongue, slid two fingers inside her hot quim, and pushed two fingers inside her welcoming bottom. A scandalous two in a place she’d never allowed a man to touch her. Never had she guessed it would feel so good. His fingers in her quim made her rump feel so tight, and his fingers filling her derriere made her cunny so wonderfully full.

It was too much. So much pleasure, racing from everywhere at once.

Her body went off as though he’d touched a trigger. She came. Exploded. Her cries rang up to the ceiling, and she rocked madly on him. He held her while she went wild upon him. Moans filled the room—her moans, as her orgasm kept exploding inside her. It seemed it was never going to stop.

He kept licking her. Taking her beyond what she’d ever known before. It was delicious. Unbearably thrilling. Rather … frightening.

She’d never come without it being at her touch. She alone
knew how to pleasure herself to make herself climax, and even with a protector, she would cleverly touch herself to find her pleasure.

Heath had stripped her control away. And coming that way, with it being entirely at his touch and his command had been … exhilarating.

The pleasure was fading. And she was still on top of him. She stretched her hands, her toes, stretched languorously and squirmed and moaned in delight.

He lifted her and set her back across his shoulders. “How do you feel, love?”

She gazed down at him. His lips and cheeks glistened slightly in the lamplight. Heavens, her juices coated his mouth and chin. He licked his lower lip, smiling cheekily, tasting her.

“Good,” she managed to whisper.

“No pain?”

“Heavens no.” And she realized. “No. I’m not cold—” An agonizing pain spiked through her heart. She clutched her chest. Collapsed on him.

Through the roaring in her ears, she dimly heard his voice.

“Damn, it wasn’t enough. But I can’t do it, Vivienne. I can’t put my cock inside you.” His voice was hoarse and she whimpered. The pain had doubled. She had curled into a ball on top of him.

“I can do everything else,” he whispered. “Anything else we can imagine.”

She felt the thud of his heart. How she could feel it so acutely, she didn’t know. She was half draped over his hips, her belly pressed to his long, hard erection. Some instinct drove her to rise on him. To slide her hands over the powerful muscles of his chest. Then go lower, over the hard plane that was his stomach, and take hold of his thick, rigid shaft through his trousers.

“Please,” she whispered.

Do this and live. Take him and live.
She didn’t know where
the words came from. They seemed to well up from her soul. She had to make love to him. She had to make him fill her with his scalding hot cum and stop the cold from freezing her to death.

She tore wildly at the fastening of his trousers.

It wasn’t enough.

Heath knew it. He had ignited the demon inside Miss Dare. And the demon craved a man’s pleasure. Her orgasm wasn’t enough to satisfy her. She needed his climax or she would likely die.

What man wouldn’t love it: a woman who would do anything to make him come? But it broke Heath’s heart.

“No, love.” He grasped her hands and drew them away from his throbbing erection. His oversized, vampiric penis was straining and pulsing in his trousers, seeking her heat—her hot mouth, her hand, her scorching, sweet cunny. But he couldn’t make love to her.

Wrong. He couldn’t make love to her
twice
.

She gently gyrated her hips on top of him. The simple movement almost blew the top of his head off. Her nightgown was still fastened, but the swell of her breasts rose up from the neckline in two flushed mounds. Her cheeks were pink. And she was still panting from the orgasm he’d given her.

There was nothing as erotic, as arousing as a woman still gasping from an explosive climax.

Damnation.

This was all his blasted fault.

She tried to wrench her wrists free of his grasp. “I want you. I need you. Please—I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you now.”

“It’s a craving you can’t control,” he whispered. “If you don’t make love to me, your body won’t survive.” Once was all right. He could still taste her on his mouth, and he wanted her.
“I know you’re not doing this because you want to, but I swear I will make it good for you—”

She stroked his face. Her caress was so sweet, it touched his heart. And that heightened his desire even more.

“You’re wrong,” she whispered. “It’s not just a craving. It’s not just need. Ever since I watched you help my daughter, I’ve desired you. I’ve tried to fight it. I don’t want to anymore.”

She leaned over, letting her sinfully beautiful hair tumble over her and over him. Her lips touched his.

Such a kiss. Soft and loving, slow and passionate and heart melting. It was the kiss of a woman who admired him.

He knew she was driven by uncontrollable lust. Knew she had seen him do two good deeds: one for her, one for her daughter. She had no idea what a blackguard he really was.

And right now, he couldn’t tell her. He just had to fuck her, make her come, and explode in the climax of his life.

He kissed her back hungrily. He reached up and cupped her generous breasts. Then he playfully jiggled them, making them bounce and slap his hands. She moaned in the middle of the kiss. A demoness like her would play fierce.

He tugged open the fastenings of her nightgown. Her breasts tumbled into his hands, plump, gold, and topped with blushing pink nipples. What more could a man want? These were breasts that could addict a man. And he only got to enjoy them once.

He flicked her nipples with his thumbs. Savored her fevered moan. Savored the sensation of velvety flesh hardening against his fingers. He delighted in the way he could make them grow thick and eager with just light brushes of his thumbs.

She was so hot and responsive. It had to be her demoness instincts taking charge. Before tonight, she had acted like a woman who didn’t like sex, who had been taken roughly and was haunted by those memories.

He smiled up at her. God, she was exquisitely beautiful. Her eyes were luminous blue, glowing in a way that could remind
him of the sun he’d never see again. She had a face that any man would want to watch for his entire life, for it changed every moment and it was impossible to look away. She cocked her head, letting silken hair spill over her smooth, creamy shoulder. “Please?” she whispered.

He hadn’t made love to a woman like this, with deep smiles, with his heart pounding hard, for a long, long time.

“All right, Vivienne,” he murmured. “But for our safety, let me be the guide.”

Her brows made two golden arches. “Our safety?”

“I’m a demon, love. We can’t forget that.”

Softly, she added, “As am I.”

He gave her a smile. “Tonight, I intend to make love to you like a demon.” For their one and only time together.

Vivienne had no idea how a demon would make love. But she suddenly found herself lifted in the air and deposited onto her back. Her soft bed jiggled beneath her. It was like being made love to—fucked—upon a cloud.

Heath yanked his trousers down, displaying his remarkable, rigid, enormous cock to her. Aroused beyond belief, she reached out and touched. She stroked his chest, let her hands coast over his tight waist, his flat, hard stomach. She caressed the flares of his hipbones, stroked his deeply indented haunches. His cock stood tall, pointing to the ceiling. Evidence he wanted this as much as she.

She grabbed his hips and tried to pull him down to her.

With a smile that made her heart flutter, he gripped his cock in hand and lowered between her legs. One long, confident thrust took him inside her. “Ooooh.” It was a long moan of pleasure. She’d been slick from her orgasm; she was now even creamier from lusting for
this
.

He took control. It astonished her how she wanted him to. With Heath, she had no fear, no fierce need to resist as he capturedher
wrists and held them above her head. He moved so smoothly in her, so controlled, it was like heaven. He stirred her tight, wet cunny with his massive cock. She wrapped her legs around him, determined to keep him inside her forever.

He thrust deep, the head of his thick member nudging the entrance to her womb. And each push gave her a jolt of pure pleasure.

“This …” Her voice died. Her legs were entwined around him, sitting above those delicious hips of his.

“This is my hard cock filling you,” he rasped. “This is me driving deep into you. This is pleasure and sin. This is what being a demon is all about, my love.”

“Yes,” she whispered. She savored the lovely, slick kissing sound as his groin collided with hers. He was moaning, too, breathing hard with his thrusts. The bed groaned beneath them, the canopy swayed. She’d never had a man move so fiercely in bed, thrust so hard. He was almost lifting the bed off its legs.

And she loved it. Heath didn’t scare her—not even when he was wild with lust and hungering to fuck hard. He braced himself over her, thrust deeply in without hurting her. He wanted it to be good for her. He looked after her, even as he drove madly to pleasure.

Her cunny was tugging at him, tightening around him. Tension built inside her.

Her eyes opened wide. Something heavenly burst inside her. Her fingers clutched his. Her back arched. She came with such intensity she had to scream, “Heath. Heath. Heath!”

“God yes, Vivi. Come for me. Come around me. Grip my cock and squeeze him tight.”

She had to giggle, even while gasping for breath.

He laughed with her, a sharp, curt sound. Then his head bowed suddenly and his body shuddered. And he came, too.

With her.

She could barely savor his ecstasy for the wonderful waves
of
her
pleasure. He held himself above her, and she watched the fierce agony on his face.

He gave a low, harsh groan. “Vivienne, love … it’s never been like this.”

And he captured her mouth with his, kissing her deeply, kissing her with a passion she’d never known before.

Damn, he was hungry.

Heath paced in the dark, fighting his hunger for blood and listening to Vivienne sleep. Her breathing was soft and relaxed. Making love to her had worked; his explosive orgasm had satisfied her need for a man’s pleasure.

Too bad it could never happen between them again.

All he had to do was open her window and he could fly anywhere he wanted. It would be easy to find an unsuspecting mortal and slake his thirst for blood.

He could hear the heartbeat of everyone in the house. It was a constant, rhythmic sound. It was temptation. If he was at home he could use some of his other sources of blood. He acquired animal blood from the slaughterhouses.

He should have drunk blood while he had taken Vivienne to his library. If he tried to push himself much longer, he’d break.

Through the window, he spied a dark shape. It flew across the night sky, soared over the roof of Vivienne’s house.

Heath left the window. It was Julian.

S
he truly was a succubus.

Vivienne sat up in her bed. Moonlight crept into her room where her curtains didn’t meet. She could see the gleam of her white escritoire, the curved shapes of two chairs drawn by the fireplace. Her bedroom looked blessedly normal. And she was not.

Last night, she had been in pain and terrified. She’d been consumed with the need to have sex with Heath. She had been determined to bed him. Even if she’d had to tear his trousers off and … and force him.

Fortunately, he’d been willing.

Sex had made the pain go away. It had banished the cold. Did that mean she could actually die if she didn’t have sex? Why had she never felt such pain before? How could she be a succubus and not know about it?

Vivienne sobbed softly in the dark.

Heath had told her he didn’t know what this meant for Sarah. What if Sarah was so sick because she was a succubus, too? Or a half succubus, if there could be such a thing? Sarah’s
father had been a vicious brute of a man, a fact Vivienne had never told her daughter, but he had been human, despite his cruel behavior.

Sarah was eighteen. She had been seventeen when she bore Sarah. Everything Vivienne had done had been to ensure her daughter never had to endure the risks and horrors she had. She had been determined Sarah would never have to sell her body for survival.

But what if Sarah was like her? What if Sarah had to sleep with men to keep herself alive?

There was only one person she could turn to for answers. And he had already left her bed.

Low masculine voices spoke outside her partially open bedroom door. Heath. And he was speaking to another man. Drawing on her robe, she opened the door to see Heath stalk across the hall to Julian, grasp the younger man’s chin, and forcefully turn his face.