“Such a good girl, so beautiful when you come.” he whispered, his chin tucked on my shoulder. This position was odd, kneeling and the arch of my back pressing him hard against the front of my channel, the silky tip of him dragging relentlessly against delicate tissue and sparking nerves inside me. He was whispering filth in my ear, telling me how lovely I was, how silky and snug I was inside. As my legs began shaking from the strain, he put his hands on my thighs.
“Hold on, doll.”
He pulled them up and wrapped my legs over his hips. James chuckled and patted my swollen and excruciatingly delicate pussy lightly. “One more, lovely. One more before your arms give out.” His hips were slamming hard against the soft globes of my ass and his grip on me was getting tighter. He patted my bare and defenseless clitoris with two wet fingers and my stomach muscles convulsed.
“One more,” I could hear the grin in that undead asshole’s voice and I wanted to kill him. “Soak my cock. Come for me.”
“No,” I hissed, knowing I couldn’t hold out but hating that he could make me come just by ordering me to. It was even stronger this time, I felt frozen in place while it cycled through me, every muscle drawn tight and locking his cock inside me for a moment.
I heard his groan and I bit the cushion, trying to muffle my gasps. He didn’t deserve to hear that he’d given me an unbelievably intense orgasm, even if he could feel it. James let out a growl, something more wolf than human and he flooded me. His chest was heavy over my back, immobile, not panting of course. But he still sounded breathless as he praised me.
“Gently…” he spoke as if he was reminding himself, pulling himself from me and turned me around to face him. I flushed, realizing James was still fully dressed as he tucked his cock back into his trousers and zipped them up. But he removed his jacket, examining my face as he helped me into it.
He seated himself on the much-abused wicker chair, settling me on his lap and drawing my legs up under his borrowed jacket. Leaning my cheek against his neck, I could feel it; the tiny script raising on his skin. He looked down at me, frowning a bit as I ran my fingertips along his throat, tracing his jawline and Adam's apple.
“Volkov killed your brother Sandu.” I knew he didn’t need to swallow, but I felt him do it anyway. “You tried to engage with him to let your brother get away. But… Volkov took him first and then bit into you.” His fist tightened on his lap, knuckles white. “He tried to make you kill your mother, he had her by the neck, he was squeezing….”
There was the slightest noise from James, a huff of a sigh.
“But you pulled him off of her, threw him off the balcony. You ran, too. You could feel the blood lust taking you over.” My fingers moved to one high cheekbone, and then his forehead. "Volkov found you, bound you to him. He would starve you sometimes to make you more vicious. But you never hurt your family. You didn’t.”
Dropping my head back against his shoulder, I looked up at the sky, it was lightening now, the dark sky retreating from the first weak rays of the sun.
“I’m taking you somewhere,” James said, abruptly lifting me and carrying me inside. “Somewhere you’ll be safe.”
“??????? ??????... icalosul uciga?. Te am acum.” - Murderous bastard. I have you now.
Chapter 13: The Blood Countess
In which we discover that no matter how hideous the myths and legends are, the reality is much worse.
Meghan…
“Time to go.”
I looked up from my breakfast to see James hovering over me like some well-dressed monolith. “We’re leaving in twenty minutes. Go shower-” he took a long, infuriating sniff and grinned, “-and get dressed.”
Suddenly aware of my still sex-disheveled self, I glared at him, scuttling for the bathroom. I was furious that last night James just … fucked me in the garden and worse, that I didn’t put up a fight because of that small moment of kindness, letting me feel the outside world again.
Turning the water as hot as I could stand, I slumped against the wall and steamed like a clam, trying to decide if I was angrier at him or myself.Does this count as Stockholm Syndrome?I pondered,Or, like relief that he didn’t put me on a leash at the creepy bloodsucker’s ball last night?The expensive peppermint soap had no advice to offer me, so I sullenly rinsed off and stepped out.
“Doll, you need to get moving.” He was whispering into my ear, close enough to feel the cool planes of his body on my back, still steaming after being pummeled by the shower.
“The myth about not having a reflection is crap, huh?” I blurted, wiping the condensation off the mirror to see him looming behind me.
His gaze was on my wet, heated skin and he leaned closer, touching my skin. I yelped at the contrast between my steaming back and his chilled fingers.
“Like most of the myths,” he answered absently. “Created by mortals to give them some illusion of power over theStrigoi.”
I shivered as his fingers trailed down my spine to hover just over the cleft of my ass.
When his hand gripped me there, mine gripped the counter. “Didn’t you say we had to go?”
His gaze moved up from my body to stare at me in the mirror’s reflection. James’ blue eyes seemed to glow briefly, and he stepped back. “There’s clothes for you on the bed.”
It was depressingly similar to the night before, escorted from his car to a tented entrance to a small jet on the rainy tarmac, I didn’t get a chance to even take a deep breath of fresh air as he hustled me from the car and up the stairs and into the jet. Before I could even turn to ask where we were going, his hand was urging me past a politely smiling pilot. After exchanging a few words with the woman, James walked back to settle me in a leather cushioned seat.
“It’s chilly here in the cabin,” he said, focused on shaking out a ridiculously soft red cashmere throw over my lap, “I’ve had them turn up the heat.” He fastened my seatbelt and crouched beside me for a moment, smoothing my hair over one shoulder.
