Caught in the Cogs Volume One (11 page)

As we climbed the grand staircase to the bedchambers above, I watched her bustled hips sway, and I hardened. I knew I would have her. I knew I’d be buried in the warmth beneath that bustle within the hour. I stiffened further, then adjusted myself with my free hand, never taking my eyes off that swaying bustle.

After all, I deserved some pleasure now and again. I deserved lifetimes of pleasure after watching my brother take my throne and then take my wife all those years ago. I had watched it all from the shadows of darkness. I had watched him cast my Catherine aside and make time with strumpet after strumpet, marrying some, but using more. He had made the throne of England a mockery. Then, with some delight, I had watched him get old and fat and eventually die. I had watched his children fight for the throne and kill those around them to secure their position.

That I didn’t mind too much. Especially Mary, the daughter of my beloved Catherine, she had a thirst for blood that rivaled even mine! Unfortunately she didn’t last too long. Bitterness hardened her heart, making it all that much easier to irreparably shatter when her husband had abandoned her. Elizabeth had followed and surprised us all, setting England back to rights. The country’s savior in skirts. They had called her Gloriana. Regina. The Virgin Queen. It was then I chose to leave England in search of new blood, as it were.

Now I returned to another hard woman on the throne. This one was not near as attractive as my niece had been. Women. Not one had heated my blood the way Catherine did. Not in these long centuries, but she betrayed me after I died. Denying our love to secure her place as Queen.

Politics over love.

I never understood it.

I would have been a foolish king.

Now I took a page from my brother’s book. Love them and leave them. Well, in my case, kill them.

Come to think of it, he killed a few himself. Bravo, brother.

“In here,” she said, still in hushed tones as she led me into a vacant bedchamber, pulling my attention out of the dead past into the present. There was much more pleasure to be had here.

She stood awkwardly in the middle of the room and fiddled with her hands, then straightened her skirts again. She looked everywhere but at me, and there was a slight blush to her cheek. What had happened to the seductive mistress from downstairs? Now a demure damsel stood in her place. It was obvious she hadn’t done this in quite a while. She seemed so innocent in her nervousness. It was rather sweet, but not as sweet as her blood would taste.

I leaned back against the door, snapping it shut, and surveyed the room. Frilly lace dripped off every surface. Heavy taupe curtains draped the edges of the four poster bed sitting in the center of the room on a raised platform. The walls were lined with fine art framed in gold, and the chairs were all properly skirted. London High Society. How droll.

Gathering her courage, my prey sat on the edge of the large bed and gingerly patted the spot next to her, inviting me over.

Didn’t have to ask me twice.

I forced myself to move slowly, as my natural speed would startle her. Sitting closely beside her, I took her hand into mine and kissed it. She giggled, as if all this reminded her of younger days. She turned away as if suddenly bashful.

“Are you blushing, my sweet,” I whispered into her ear, before I traced my tongue down the side of her neck. “Certainly this isn’t your first time. A woman of your age?”

She cleared her throat, leaned away, and looked at me nonplussed. It was not proper to speak of a woman’s age. That question threw her off, just as I had hoped. I did like to toy with them, like a cat playing with a mouse.

“Well!” she said exasperated, snatching her hand away from mine.

Ah yes. Time to feign offense.

I just ignored her, even though the temperature of the room had dropped to colder than my own body temperature. I could feel the chill in the air, but a specific part of me was generating enough heat for the both of us. I resumed kissing her neck as if nothing had happened, and after a moment or two she once again softened beside me. She wasn’t about to give up the only chance she had for such a romp. Perhaps my faux pas would at least help her drop the pretense of innocence.

She turned into me and lifted my head, eager for more. She kissed me full on the lips, parting them with her aggressive, soft tongue.

Pretense dropped!

As the kiss deepened I lifted her to a standing position, striving to press against her. My excitement drove through her layers of clothes, and she felt my hardness pressed up against her leg. To my great surprise, she smiled, breaking the kiss. She ran her gloved hand up my inseam, and now it was I who gasped.

Certainly not her first time.

She massaged my shaft through my trousers and started kissing me again. I ran my hands up and down her body, trying to figure out how to get inside that corset. Sometimes they were inside, sometimes out. Sometimes laced in front, others in back. Her gown was so exquisitely crafted, however, that I could not discern where to begin. Her caressing hand was urging me on. Even one as experienced as I could only take so much stimulation and this woman was indeed stimulating. My desire for her flesh mounted, and the desire for her blood wasn’t far behind. The need began to consume me. That all-encompassing need. The hunger. The darkness that kept me dead yet alive. The thirst, but I had to keep it at bay. Just a little longer. After all, there were two needs to satisfy tonight.

I spun her around, holding her close with one arm while kissing her neck. With the other hand, I freed myself from the burden of my trousers. Grinding myself against her hips, I nibbled gently down her neck until she moaned. That small sound was all I could stand.

In a blur of movement that surprised even me, I bent her over the bed and hiked up her crimson skirts. She gasped, knowing what was to follow. That beautiful bustle stared up at me. But I slowed down, wanting her to need me inside her more than she needed to breathe. I took my time and savored the vision before me. White stockings stretched from her white-heeled, laced-up boots, its seam perfectly straight, guiding me up the back of her legs to her thighs. I ran a hand up each seam from her delicate ankles up to the top of her stockings. Then, flesh.

Velvety white flesh that was as pale as my own hands. At the apex, a pink blossom, covered in dew. My hands caressed between her thighs and then softly between her petals, just once, causing her to squirm, her breath coming faster. Standing, I grazed something else between those rosy gates, feeling her wetness on my tip. I teased her at first, barely nudging the head inside her. She tried to thrust back into me, but I wouldn’t let her. Not yet.

She grabbed at the lacy off-white bed covering frantically, taking handfuls of Venetian lace in her fists. She rested her shoulders and cheek on the bed. Her delicate features were twisted in a mixture of agony and pleasure. Yearning and suspense.

“Ask me,” I said to her, sliding my tip up and down her moist nook.

But she couldn’t speak. She was too hungry for words.

“Ask me,” I repeated.

“Please,” she managed between shallow breaths. One of her hands began grabbing desperately at her corset, trying to relieve the pressure.

I increased the pace of gliding up and down her misty petals, pressing harder against her. Her breath coming faster and faster until I brought her. She cried out in delight as her body drenched me with its pleasure.

It was all I could take. I plunged inside her, giving her what we both wanted. Grabbing her hips with both hands, I crashed into her repeatedly, watching her scarlet bustle dance along with us. She came again and again, singing her exultation into the night, but I held out.

I withdrew from her, still throbbing, and threw her up onto the bed. She turned over and looked at me, face flush. She grabbed at her bodice again, probably unable to breathe in her restraints. I didn’t care about how to carefully get into her dress anymore, so I ripped it open to the corset and then ripped that down the seams. No time for unlacing. Her breasts, now free, swelled in her excitement. I gripped one, teasing her nipple with my tongue before moving on to the other.

She took a deep breath and pulled me on top of her, kissing me deeply. She angled her hips toward me, and I slid back inside her, more gently this time, allowing her to kiss me as I rocked against her. She met each thrust in kind.

I had always been amazed at the passion of these High Society London women. All the stuffiness and etiquette that had been strapped so tightly inside their corset was unleashed in the bedroom. Good for me.

We moved together faster and harder, until she came again. She threw her head back and cried out, loudly. Surely the party below had to be able to hear us, but I didn’t care about that. Not now. For now it was my turn. I bore down on her, grabbing her shoulders as I thrust deeper and deeper inside her. Her head was still thrown back in ecstasy, giving me the perfect opportunity. I ripped the pearl choker from her throat. My fangs descended and I plunged them into her neck while still thrusting inside her. She screamed, but not in terror, in euphoria again.

I exploded inside her just as her blood began to gush into my mouth. I held her beneath me as she began to squirm. She was shouting something, but I didn’t hear words. I was too engulfed in the rapture of her blood. I drank deep, and I heard her heartbeat begin to slow. Before I could bring myself to pull away, it had stopped all together.

I had lost control in my passion and killed her. I had only intended to feed and then wipe her memory of it.

Oh well.

I withdrew from her and redressed. Her blood, the little I had left, trickled down the side of her throat and stained the ivory bed, coloring it to match her fine gown. I ripped some lace off the canopy and wiped my mouth clean.

There she lay. Legs spread wide. Breasts lolled out. Glassy eyes of death: a vision.

Still, must allow her some dignity, I thought, so I straightened her legs and covered her up with her skirts. She probably wouldn’t be found until morning or perhaps afternoon. Not until the chambermaid did her rounds. This was a guest room, so it was low priority without a guest present.

I pulled my watch out of the small pocket in my waistcoat and looked at the time.

I still had hours before dawn.

Perhaps a dance or two before I retire.

###

Thank you for taking time to read
Caught in the Cogs, Volume One.
If you enjoyed it, please tell your friends & family about it! Read more of O. M. Grey’s poetry and articles on her blog “Caught in the Cogs”
http://omgrey.wordpress.com
.

Also discover other Blue Moose Press titles at Smashwords.com

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/rowanofthewood

About the Author

O. M. Grey dreams of the dark streets of London and the decadent deeds that occur after sunset. She dons a tight corset, a fluffy bustle, and a teeny-tiny top hat for fantasy conventions where she enjoys meeting fans and participating on panels. Olivia prefers to live in the cobwebbed corners of her dark mind writing paranormal romance with a Steampunk twist.

Her premiere Steampunk Paranormal Romance novel,
Avalon Revisited, remained on Amazon’s Top 40 Gothic Romance list for over four months. She also writes short stories, relationship articles, and angsty poetry.

Ms. Grey is represented by the fabulous Louise Fury of the L. Perkins Agency.

When she’s not writing, she’s reading, tending the garden, or drinking a hot cup of tea.

Just two drops, please.

Connect with O. M. Grey online!

Website/Blog:
http://omgrey.wordpress.com

Twitter:
http://twitter.com/omgrey

Facebook Fan Page:
http://tinyurl.com/OMG-FB

O. M. Grey is the pen name of YA author Christine Rose. For more magical adventure and paranormal romance set in a story appropriate for all ages, read Christine and Ethan Rose's YA crossover series ROWAN OF THE WOOD, winner of the 2009 Indie Excellence award. Currently three books in the series: ROWAN OF THE WOOD, WITCH ON THE WATER, & FIRE OF THE FEY. All available on the KINDLE, also at Smashwords, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, the author's website, and wherever books are sold.
http://www.christineandethanrose.com

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