“You’re upset,” I said.
I’d never heard this tone from her, laughing and crying at the same time. “I just realized, I missed Thanksgiving and Christmas, and no one even left me a message, did they?” My sweet doll turned to look at me, “You can tell me, James. I know you check my phone.”
“No. There were no messages,” I admitted.
Lacing her fingers on top of her head, she walked further into the garden. “That’s why you never worried about kidnapping me. You knew I wouldn’t be missed.”
There was nothing for me to say. She was right.
“Never mind,” she shook her head decisively, as if shaking off her grief.
Fingers delicately examining a tightly furled lavender blossom she asked, "What kind of rose is this?"
"Fleur Le Petit Éternité," I answered, still focused on the delicate touch of her fingers. "The strain grows with lavender in Provence. Since that’s where I regained my consciousness, it seemed significant, I guess.”
She was steeling herself; I could tell. I knew my doll’s ‘tells,’ now. How she’d square her shoulders, or tighten her jaw.
“The guy you talked to, tonight? Miles, the creepy uncle-type bloodsucker? Did he give you what you wanted?”
I was still chuckling a bit over her description, “Miles Oxley. No. Not completely. But I scared him.”
She’d moved on, examining another rose from a wild variety, the palest yellow.My doll was brave tonight,I thought, a little angry but just a bit more amused by her.
“Yes. He gives some information, just enough to make you desperate. Then charges an exorbitant price for the rest.”
This made her look up, brow furrowed. “Oh. What was his asking price?”
Shaking my head, I was beside her in a blink of an eye. “Something too high for me to pay.” Running my hand up the length of her throat, I admired her long neck, her delicate shoulders and collarbones. “He gave me enough to know where to look.”
Her lashes were fluttering, thick on her cheekbones until she took a breath and looked me in the eye. “You used me as bait, didn’t you?”
My fingers flexed slightly on her throat, “I thought I was.” Leaning down to press my mouth to hers, I ignored her little gulp as I slid my tongue between her lips.
Meghan…
The early, early morning hour meant the air was chilly - hell, it was always chilly in Seattle during any season - but James was oddly warm, maybe because he’d been feeding off me so much. His hands slid to my ass and lifted me easily. My chest flushed pink as I felt his sculpted pectorals move against my breasts - shit, they were all sensitive now, nipple tight against the thin silk of the dress. The plunging back meant James didn’t give me a bra to wear that night and his fingers slid into the neckline easily, stroking over the thin skin there.
I yelped when he abruptly lifted me higher, his beautiful face wearing a dark smile as he sucked my nipple into his mouth. Remembering how much it hurt when he’d bitten me there, I moaned, “Don’t- please, not there…”
I wouldn’t realize until later that the usual, hateful game between us wasn’t played at that moment. There was no sinister query of ‘Feed or fuck?’ from James, no miserable choice from me.
He pulled the other strap of my dress down, baring me to the waist as his fingers toyed with one nipple and his lips with the other, very lightly holding the little nub with those terrifying teeth as his tongue batted it back and forth. His hand on my ass was squeezing deeply enough that I knew I’d have some bruises blooming tomorrow.
We were standing in the middle of the garden, his expensive shoes planted in the wet grass and I stifled another gasp as he wrapped my legs around his waist and headed for the pergola.
There was a huge wicker armchair, plump cushions in a green patterned fabric. Depositing me on my knees, facing the back of the chair, and my arms resting on the back of the chair, James tore my extravagant silk dress in half and discarded the pieces. I braced myself, expecting him to thrust into me. It would hurt. I wasn’t nearly wet enough.
“Oh!”
It wasn't James’ cock I felt, it was his cool lips and the slightest scratch of his jagged, monstrous teeth on my most delicate parts. He pulled one lip, then the other between his mouth, giving them a long, delectable suck that felt like he was trying to give me another hickey and it was oddly, wildly arousing. His tongue was sliding between my folds, collecting my slick with a shameless slurping sound.
“Your little bud is swollen, you’ve always been so sensitive here,” James approved, a little hoarsely. He sucked my clit between his lips and it was so violently pleasurable that my back snapped into an arch as I came, the blood and heat surging through my lower half like a volcano. It took me a moment to realize he’d moved his mouth and was biting one of my nether lips. It wasn’t painful, it didn’t feel like he was draining the life from me as it did when he fed elsewhere on me. It was … my mouth dropped open and panting, all logical thought was gone from me.
“I didn’t think anything could be sweeter than the blood from here….” One long finger traced along my inner thigh. “But here, doll, you are sogood.”James drew the word out drunkenly, his words a bit slurred as if the blood from my cunt had intoxicated him. His stubble scraped along my pelvis as I mindlessly pushed back onto his mouth.
There was some, small coherent part of me that was screaming to stop, that I was no longer unwilling here, that I knew what he was doing. But I just … didn't want to.
My fingers gripped the back of the chair desperately as his hands on my hips brought me against his tongue and lips over and over again. There was a trickle of something sliding down my leg, and I shuddered slightly, not sure if it was slick from his outrageously arousing mouthplay - or my blood. Then his cock replaced his tongue and he moved slowly, always staying inside me but retreating and sliding in a little deeper each time, rotating his hips to fill every secret place inside me.
