Blood Fire (13 page)
It felt so real, but it couldn’t be. Octavia sighed with delight in the warm sun, under his warm kisses. “Oh yes,” she whispered. “More.”
“You are so sweet, Octavia. I want to taste you. Nipples first. Then more.” He cupped her breasts through her dress. “Much fuller now that you have the babe inside. They’re spilling over my hands.” His boyish grin of pleasure made her legs tremble.
She found the fastenings of her simple day dress, undid them to let her bodice sag. Wrapping his hands around the globes of her breasts, he tilted them up. Her nipples basked in the sunlight, hardened in anticipation.
Opening his mouth wide, he took the right nipple in his warm mouth.
Oh yes. Greedily, he sucked it, taking quite a bit of her breast along with her pointed, sensitive nipple. Then he slid back, and he sucked so hard on the firm tip, she almost leapt out of her slippers.
Never had she felt anything so intensely. Explosions of pleasure, pain, shock, delight went off in her head at once. She felt him laugh against her breast. Dizzy with erotic excitement, she realized they were friends only when pleasuring each other.
Then he suckled her other nipple. After that he moved his head swiftly back and forth, lavishing his attentions on one and then the other. Both nipples turned cherry red and became thimble-sized. Tingling sensations washed through her everywhere, like wine swirled in a glass.
This was so lovely. Octavia arched her back, pushing her breasts right into his face. A gruff laugh was his response, before he attended to his sucking again. Her hips squirmed and rocked, her cunny aching to be touched.
Tightness grew. The tension of mysterious muscles, the throbbing ache—she knew what it meant. Her fists were tight balls. But he was just sucking her nipples. Surely, he couldn’t make her come just by doing that—
Oh God. One hard suckle at her breast ignited the burst of pleasure. Her cunny pulsed, her womb contracted, and the force of it rippled through her, making her sob, making her fists wave, then land on his coat-covered back.
He kept his mouth latched on her nipple through her entire storm of ecstasy. But he released her to strip off his coat, pull off his cravat. Then he stood straight, and she set at once to yanking the tails of his shirt out of his trousers.
Golden sun blazed over his golden skin. She placed both her hands on his chest. His heart thumped beneath one. Hair tickled the palms of both.
How had she thought to stay away from him?
In reality, she had to. In dreams, she could come with him. He sat down on a stone bench. She touched the smooth stone seat. Her hand felt the warmth radiating because the stone had absorbed the sun’s rays. Two petals fluttered, and one landed on her eye. She dashed it away, opened her eyes again. His trousers were open, his erect cock sticking upward. It was dewy on top of the head, ready and eager. Daintily, she lifted her skirts and straddled him.
But she didn’t sit down. Not just yet—
Matthew groaned and rolled over, faintly aware of darkness, of a soft mattress beneath him. Then he slipped back into his delicious, enticing dream.
His hand skimmed up Octavia’s calf to her garter. Silk stroked his hand, along with the soft lace of her stocking, then his palm touched the warm, satiny skin of her thigh.
She carried his child and she glowed with it, smiling down at him. How many times had she smiled for him before he’d left for the Carpathians? Very few and only when they made love. It was a treasure to see one now.
Cupping her bottom, he lifted her, and brought her down on his cock. Months had passed since he’d known the heaven of sliding inside her.
She was scalding hot, wet, and tight. Pleasure shot through him as he buried himself deep inside her. He fought for control, but he gave one thrust, and exploded with pleasure—
Matthew jerked up, sheets falling away from his sweaty back. Moonlight spilled into his room in the small, village inn. There was no garden, no sunshine, no delectable hot and sweaty Octavia stroking his back.
For two weeks, he’d been chasing her across the English countryside. He had tracked her here, to a tiny cottage, but he’d found it deserted. This was the closest he had been to her since his wedding night and it had just been a dream. Hell. It had been the sweetest session of lovemaking he’d ever had, and it had been entirely a figment of his imagination. An uncomfortable, wet stickiness was on his sheets. He’d climaxed in his sleep. Groaning, Matthew fell onto his back, away from the wet spot, and covered his eyes with his hands. “Just a dream. How bloody tormenting . . .”
“Actually, it wasn’t a dream,” a voice said.
Matthew got up so quickly, he fell off the edge of the narrow bed. He landed on the worn, knotted rug and launched to his feet, naked, as Sebastien De Wynter strolled out of the shadow. The vampire slayer was fully dressed and moved casually, as though spying in another man’s room was an everyday occurrence for him.
“What in hell are you doing in my room?” Matthew barked.
“Observing. I had to see if she would come to you.”
“Come to me? You mean she was here?” He shook his head. What was he thinking? “Impossible. It was a dream.” He was protesting, with his now limp cock swinging between his thighs. He yanked a sheet off the bed and wrapped it around his hips.
Strangely, he’d been to orgies, where he’d been oblivious to male nakedness as there had been so much female nudity about. But in his room in the village inn, with an unexpected guest, he preferred to be covered.
“She’s a succubus. This is what she will now do,” De Wynter said, as though explaining addition to a particularly dimwitted child. “She has to visit men in her sleep.”
“Men. Not just me?”
“You have to understand it’s not just a dream, Sutcliffe. I’ve explained what a succubus does. Each night, she is really coming to you and making love to you. Each time she does, you lose some of your soul. Eventually she will drain all of your soul away.”
“What does that mean?”
De Wynter’s eyes reflected the moonlight. “It means she will kill you. When you lose all your soul to her, you’re dead.”
“You’re joking. What is this—vampire slayer humor?” His friend grimly shook his head. “I wish. It’s not a joke, Sutcliffe.”
Hell. This couldn’t be possible. How could sex with his wife kill him? He had read about succubi, but he still couldn’t believe Octavia was coming to him in a dream.
“To save yourself,” De Wynter continued, “you could stop her coming to you—”
“No, I don’t want her to stop coming to me. If I do she’ll go to another man, won’t she?”
“It’s her nature as a succubus. She has to go to men in their sleep and attack their souls through sexual pleasure. We can ensure she only comes to you, but it might kill you.”
“I don’t care. And I don’t want to make love to her in dreams. I want it to be real.”
De Wynter nodded. “Then we’ll help you find her. The trail may have gone cold at the cottage, but she had to go somewhere. However, there is a small problem. I noted evidence in that cottage of another presence. A recent one. Someone else looking for her, I believe.”
“I didn’t notice anything.”
“You wouldn’t, as you weren’t trained to hunt vampires.”
“There was a
vampire
in her cottage?”
vampire
in her cottage?”
“Worse,” De Wynter said. “A satyr.”
9
The Perfect Prey
E
smeralda knew she would find the perfect prey amongst the drunken, boisterous young men in the country tavern.
smeralda knew she would find the perfect prey amongst the drunken, boisterous young men in the country tavern.
She only had to look at the young man she wanted for a few moments. He stopped laughing and slowly turned to meet her alluring gaze. One smile was all it took to make him stumble to his feet and approach her.
Still, though she anticipated spicy sex and delicious blood, frustration burned in her.
She had tracked the succubus here, to a tiny cottage on the outskirts of this tiny, horrid little village. How she hated such backward hamlets—and villagers with their closed-minded ignorance. She had lived for thousands of years and had endured war, famine, persecution. She was superior.
A satyr had tried to attack the succubus—Esmeralda had been able to discern that by the scents left around the cottage. The succubus had escaped, she knew, for the villagers had spoken of a blond lady in an ebony carriage who had taken their mysterious new resident away.
Whoever this woman was, she was able to cloak the succubus’s scent. Esmeralda should have been able to track the girl by her primal, sexual smell. But she could find no trace of it.
Which meant someone with knowledge of their world was protecting the succubus.
And now, her dinner had come to her.
The young lord raised her hand and bowed over it. She leaned forward, allowing him to look down at her brimming décolletage. “Let us go to bed,” she said softly. She looked toward the table at which his friends were drinking and laughing. They were all, including this one, in their early twenties. Young, strong, delectable.
“Perhaps some of your friends would care to join us?” she asked.
He nodded obediently, thoroughly captivated. Grinning boyishly, he hurried back to his companions. What a lovely young man he was. Wheat blond hair was arranged in tousled curls over his handsome head. His skin had the dewy smoothness of youth. A darling shadow of stubble graced his jaw.
As for his body . . .
He was young and slender, with a lovely combination of a stripling’s lean hips and coltish long legs, but a man’s broad shoulders and muscular arms and chest.
His friends were equally delicious. One had dark hair, and looked proud and arrogant. How she loved to make such young men quiver with fear as she sampled their blood. The third young lover she would have possessed auburn waves.
She smiled at them, taking care not to reveal her fangs. She did not even need to give the number of her room to the eager young men. Her powers of allurement would draw them to her.
In her room, she extinguished all the light except for the reddish glow from banked coals in the grate. She stripped naked, then lay on her bed. In her view, this was a meager room. She was accustomed to a bed on which a dozen men could lie with her.
She despised this place; she despised the English countryside. But as soon as she found the powerful succubus, she would rule the whole world.
There was the legend that six powerful female demons could join together and rule the world. But there was another way for the world to be ruled: During their blending, one woman could take the power of the other five and turn herself into an all-powerful demon.
Esmeralda planned to command the world alone. If there was one thing that centuries of existence had taught her, she did not like to share.
After spending four centuries in imprisonment, she was determined to have ultimate power.
Her door slowly swung open, and her gentlemen callers stepped in. “Come in, please, my darlings,” she purred. “Come in of your own free will, for the most wonderful sexual pleasure awaits you all.”
They giggled together like young maidens—young men were most adorable. Then they all stepped willingly inside.
She moved with lightning speed. She rushed around each young man, tearing his clothes off. The scent of their skin was like a drug for her.
When she was finished, when she had them all nude, they stared in shock at her. And looked nervously at each other, then at their piles of clothes on the floor. She had truly ripped their clothing off.
But of course, when she had finished with them, they would have no more use for clothing.
The dark-haired one scowled. “What in Hades—?”
“Do not worry about such trivial things as clothes,” she murmured. She cupped her hand beneath her large left breast and lifted it, offering it to him.
She had so much power the young man forgot everything. His cock hardened as he came to her, until it was thick and perfectly straight. He bent to her breast eagerly and began to suck hard at her nipple.
She had not had a group of young lovers for centuries, so she was too eager to waste time indulging just one at one time. Playfully, she pushed the young one at her breast away. “No, go to the bed. I wish to be filled with all of you.”
They were all unique, her bevy of lads. The dark-haired one possessed the biggest and straightest cock. The blond had a long penis, and it curved upward. It had the most darling head on it. The young man with auburn hair had a shorter erection, but it was very thick.
She kissed each one, then lay on the bed. “Two of you inside my rear,” she commanded. “And one to fill my cunny.”
She used her vampiric power to control them, and the blond obediently lay on his back on the bed. The muscular, auburn-haired youth got on top of him, spreading his legs to allow the blond’s penis to rise from between his thighs.
Esmeralda lowered slowly, willing her anus to open, to take the two cocks deeply inside. As a demoness, she needed to be filled intensely, to be taken to exquisite limits of pain and pleasure. Being filled completely satisfied her needs.
She breathed hard as she took both men inside her tight rump. Moaned as she pushed her bottom down to take both rigid cocks deep inside. She never allowed her lovers to move—she willed and controlled their movements to ensure she received the greatest pleasure.
Men had no trouble pleasuring themselves. It was hard for them to always successfully pleasure a woman.
She loved the thought of the two iron-hard shafts rubbing against each other, the heads squished together and held tight by her hot arse.
Using thought, she brought the dark-haired man on top of her. He fought her a little—he grunted, “I’ve never shared a woman with men before. Usually I have a group of women.”
Oh, do you, you arrogant boy?
She laughed, then moaned as his long shaft slid into her wet cunny. Very soon the over-confident youth would learn his lesson.
She laughed, then moaned as his long shaft slid into her wet cunny. Very soon the over-confident youth would learn his lesson.
But for now, there was pleasure to be had. She closed her eyes and enjoyed Dark Hair’s thrusts while she worked her rump on the other men. After years of imprisonment, she climaxed at once. Stars burst before her eyes. Orgasms were heavenly for the undead.
She forced them to keep thrusting vigorously, until she came four more times.
Then she allowed them their orgasms. Their last orgasms.
They collapsed in their exhaustion. Dark Hair laid his head on her large breasts, gasping for breath. She pushed him off and extricated herself from the pile. The three young men did look surprisingly innocent as they lay, sated and vulnerable.
She chose the blond. She did not want to begin on Dark Hair. It would be much more fun if he bore witness to his fate, if he had sufficient time to become afraid.
Pulling the blond man close to her, Esmeralda licked his neck. Her tongue touched the all-important vessel of blood, and she felt it pulse. The sweet young lordling gave a moan of pleasure. He reached for her breasts but she batted his hands away.
Shuddering with pleasure at the smell of his blood, Esmeralda plunged her fangs into his neck.
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