Читать книгу Blood Red - Sharon Page - Страница 7

Her cry of pleasure echoed in the small room, igniting his lust, calling forth Yannick’s fangs. They extended, lengthening like his cock, until they lapped his lower lip.

With the greatest care, mindful of the sharpness of his curved canines, Yannick flicked out his tongue to brush the very tip of her clit.

“Oooh!” Althea arched beneath him, as though struck by an electric charge.

A knock sounded on the wall, followed by O’Leary’s concerned Irish lilt. “Miss Yates?”

She stared down at Yannick, obviously horrified. With his face buried against her wet pussy, he feigned a look of innocence. Then flicked out his tongue and made her scream again.

“Miss Yates?” The rap was sharper, the voice more insistent. Yannick hoped O’Leary wasn’t ready to burst into Althea’s room.

Althea found her voice. “So sorry, Mr. O’Leary,” she croaked. “I am fine. It was only a bad dream.”

Oh, am I?

Yannick tangled his fingers in Althea’s crisp curls, stroking the satin-soft skin beneath them. Gently, he laid a kiss at the very peak of her vulva, tasting the droplets gathering there. Her quim shone with her moisture, soaked, swollen and ready for him. And her scent…his head swam with it. Lush, sweet, ripe.

He slid his tongue down, down until he brushed her clit once more. But this time she was prepared. She fisted her hands in her wrinkled sheets, sank her teeth into her lips, and rode through the explosion of sensation with nary a whimper.

She was adorable. Delightful.

He felt like a devil, stroking the top of her pearl, where it would be far too sensitive for her. Her clit had never been touched and he should concentrate on drawing his tongue along the sides. She was too tense to come this way but he couldn’t resist teasing her.

Yannick loved to watch her arch up with each light brush of his tongue. Loved to see her hair rippling about her like a pool of flame. Loved the long, white curve of her neck and the way her tempting throat moved with each whimpered moan.

Magically, with Althea, he could control the urge to bite.

He circled with his tongue and her fingers sank into his hair. As she gripped his head tight.

“Oh, no…please, stop.”

He sucked once more, lightly.

Her hips launched up at him and with the surge, she tried to break free of his grip. She fought to scramble back, to push away, but he held her thighs and spread her wide.

Althea’s eyes went wide, too. Startled. Almost frightened. “You mustn’t. It’s too much. I can’t bear it.”

“I’ll be gentle with your clit, angel. I promise.” Guilt shot through him. He shouldn’t have teased. As the man to introduce her to pleasure, he had certain responsibilities.

This time he laved her clit gently, until her tension dissolved and she relaxed into the bed with a throaty groan. For a few glides of his tongue, she lay, passive, lids shrouding her lovely green eyes. Her bosom rose and fell and he heard the softest sighs tumble from her pursed lips, his name carried to him on one.

Her hands covered her breasts. Not in modesty. She fondled herself, gripping and kneading the lush mounds through the bodice of her nightgown.

His fangs and cock throbbed as he watched her through her thick nest of curls.

He could love her this way for hours—until dawn at least.

But soon, she lifted her hips, rocking them against his face. Tentative, as though she didn’t understand quite why she needed to move to him. She was so sweet, so new. Was it possible this was her first orgasm, other than those in her dreams? Yannick couldn’t remember his first, but imagined it must have been searing. Life-changing.

It was his duty to ensure she received no less.

Her hips became more demanding and pumped harder against his face. He matched her natural rhythm, the flat of his tongue sliding around her hard, quivering clit.

Althea’s hand skimmed down across her belly and clutched at the hem of her nightgown. Yannick released her thighs, saw the red imprints of his fingers as his hands joined hers. Small, delicate hands—hard to imagine them plunging a stake into his heart, but he didn’t doubt she could do it.

He helped her draw the gown up until it bunched at her waist. He traced her smooth, softly curved belly. Dipped his finger into her small, shadowed navel. Ran his palm along the generous flare of her hips.

Lovely, womanly. And his. His to enjoy, to pleasure, to treasure.

If only for a few nights.

The benefit to speaking in her mind? He could communicate without ever once lifting his tongue from her slick, musky quim.

Gentle enough, love?

“Perfect,” she gasped. “Wonderf—Oooh!”

I want to make you come, Althea, just as you do in your dreams. I want to make you come again and again…

He cupped her buttocks and lifted her to his mouth. Feasted on her.

“Oh God!”

Her honey dripped from her now and he slipped his thumb into her quim to stir her. Fiery hot and drenched, her walls clutched him tight.

She was pure, utterly pure, giving herself to him.

It humbled him and he was a man rarely cowed.

He withdrew his thumb, slid two fingers into her, reaching as far as her barrier. Her cunny gripped him tight and his cock jolted upward in hope.

Patience.

In defiance, his prick bucked again. His balls had sucked tight to his body, aching along with his heavy erection. Coated with his own juices, the head of his cock already felt filled to bursting, his shaft straighter and harder than he’d ever known it. She moaned and another pulse of blood filled him. Stretched him. Stiffened him. Hades, his cock felt as though it weighed fifty pounds.

Once she came, then, perhaps…

Crooking his fingers, Yannick stroked, and searched for the magic places in her walls. He pressed his baby finger to the snug, puckered entrance between the cheeks of her ass. He eased in a hair’s breath. It resisted and he didn’t try to go further. Instead he teased her little opening until she shuddered beneath him.

I want to fill you completely, love. With my cock, my fingers, my tongue. I want to fill you in every way I can imagine.

Althea sobbed. Her hips banged hard on the bed.

Yes. Pound against my face, on my fingers. Touch your breasts. Play with them. Squeeze and stroke your nipples, Althea, love. Together, we will take you to heaven.

She obeyed him. One delicate, feminine hand gripped each breast. More buttons gave way in her gown until her round breasts were bared. Firm little mounds, the color of clotted cream, pearlescent and plump, topped by erect pink nipples that he longed to gobble up. Her small fingers touched and explored, uncertain at first, and then finding delight.

Yannick couldn’t bear to be left out of the fun. Reaching up, he found the damp, hot undersides of her breasts.

Pluck your nipples, love, but let me touch them too.

He spanned both erect tips with his hand, while his mouth danced over her and his fingers played inside her scalding cunny.

“Oh heavens—”

Her hips drove up hard against his mouth, banging his jaw. He couldn’t draw back in time and pricked her lightly with his fangs.

She didn’t seem to care. Her body went rigid. Her quim clenched around his fingers, sucked him in, held him, pulsed around him. Her hands clutched her breasts, clawing mercilessly as she bucked beneath him. Tangled hair flew across her agonized face.

Althea looked so beautiful in ecstasy. Crying out for him. Sobbing. Thrashing with it. Taken by it.

God, yes.

A flood of her juices poured out onto his hand. Yannick slid down to bury his face there, to taste and enjoy.

“Oooooh.” She flopped back on the bed. Her legs went limp. Her arms dangled weakly by her sides. “Oh, that was so…so unladylike. I am so sorry—”

He chuckled and lifted from her, braced on his arms. Althea’s lids dipped over her sparkling eyes, lashes lowered, and she let her head drop back on a sigh.

So angelic, even after orgasm.

He bent, kissed her flushed belly. “Sorry? It’s delicious, little one. Such sweet nectar. A reward for pleasuring you well.”

She opened her eyes and stared down at her crumpled nightgown. “Oh, I must look a fright—”

Yannick laughed—he’d laughed more in this night with Althea than in all the years since he’d been turned. “You look beautiful. Now, move over, love.”

“Move over?”

He stretched out along the length of the bed and drew her slender body to him. She tumbled against him in surprise. Plump breasts fell against his mouth, smothering him, and her wet quim landed tight to his stomach. The tip of his cock nudged her creamy folds.

Voice strained, he joked against her warm curves, “I must get you a larger bed, if I am to share it with you.” He opened his mouth wide, head down to hide his fangs, and sucked one nipple into his mouth.

The sweetest moans poured from her lips as her fingers dug into his shoulder blades. He shifted his hips, so her soaking pussy brushed his cock. Suckling harder, he shifted to roll her onto her back.

With a soft squeal, Althea fell onto the wrinkled sheets, her nipple—mottled red now, and standing up—releasing from his mouth with a little pop. Thick dark red hair spilled around her and caught the flitting moonlight. He bent to capture her soft mouth, cocking his hips ahead to push his prick an inch within her.

So hot and wet and tight and perfect—

She jerked her head to the side to avoid his mouth, reached down, grabbed his cock. Both her hands closed tight around it and she wrenched it up, up through her cleft as she pulled it away from her quim. It raked her clit and her moan electrified him. Yannick almost burst right in her hands.

“No.”

His normally slow heartbeat thundered in his ears. No? Sweet angel, why not?

“The dreams,” she said desperately. “Why did we have the dreams? Why? What do they mean?”

His hips rocked of their own volition. The motion drew his cock back and forth through her tight grip. His tender skin snagged and pulled with exquisite agony.

Yannick could barely pull his thoughts together, much less send them to her.

I don’t know, but I suspect they…were to warn us…tell us that we are destined…destined to have incredible sex.

He truly didn’t know. After all, he’d believed he had no destiny beyond the next full moon.

“But you are a vampire,” she protested, “And I am a—”

You are a hunter of vampires.

Yannick did not like the direction of this conversation. But she was an innocent, and a little fear and apprehension were to be expected.

You have no need to fear me, Althea. I perhaps have more reason to fear you.

“I am a virgin. And moral. Church-going. God-fearing. I am supposed to be pure. I can’t.” Compelling and frightened, her eyes stared up into his.

He needed her so much tonight but he wouldn’t force her. Or control her. But perhaps, with another orgasm or two he could convince her.

Althea gasped as Yannick moved down between her thighs again. How she wanted it. Wanted more. Wanted him. But she must stop him. He wouldn’t pleasure her without expecting pleasure himself, would he?

But in her dreams, she had always awoken before he found his peak. In her dreams, only she found pleasure. The fiery explosions of her body always woke her.

The dreams…those wonderful, frightening, scandalous dreams. What did they mean?

Yannick found that blissfully excruciating place again with his tongue. But this time, the sensations didn’t spear her with shock. This time Althea felt the pleasure take her and she arched at his touch.

She had already sinned, hadn’t she? Was this a sin? Or could she pretend that she had not exactly given up her purity? That she was not exactly being intimate with a vampire? She’d touched herself—her own breasts—another sin. But with him, nothing felt wrong at all.

His tongue slid lower. He seemed to know exactly what she yearned for. His tongue rippled into her, filling her, and she tensed. Then cried out in pure delight as he plunged his tongue in and out. It was incredible. As perfect as his…his cock felt in her dreams.

To her astonishment, he withdrew, ran his tongue lower. Oh, how sensitive it was down there!

Then he touched her bottom—the entrance there—with his tongue.

And in an instant, Yannick proved she was not pure and moral at all.

His tongue dabbled and wetted. Oh it was so wrong, but so good. Althea was horrified—but thrilled.

He cupped her derrière with one big hand, lifted, and circled her tingling opening with his tongue. He skimmed his hands down her bare legs. Goodness, no other man had ever seen her naked legs, yet he casually caught hold of her ankles and lifted her legs up.

Soon Althea had her thighs pressed along her body, her calves and bare feet in the air. This way, her intimate parts were exposed to him—her “grotto of love” and even more shockingly, her bottom.

Yannick’s strong hands held her thighs as his lips grazed the base of her spine. Hot and wet, his tongue delved in the valley between her cheeks again.

Slid upward, until it dipped into her entrance again, and pushed inside.

Startled, she cried out in her mind. Yannick. Oh, but you can’t!

He answered, every inch the demon he claimed to be. Oh, but I can.

His tongue slid in and out, swirled, and filled her. In and out. Thrusting like he did in her cunny in her dreams.

Althea gasped as his thumb found her nub, as his two fingers slid into her. He spread his fingers wide, plunging them deep.

Someone was crying out. Her cries. But her voice was so different. Strained. Raw. Demanding. Yes. Yes. Oh God. Oh God.

Need made her brave and she grasped his hand on her clit, changing his stroke.

Yannick laughed into her mind, a raunchy, coarse laugh. Yes, angel, show me how to take you there.

His words were like a spark to powder. She burst. Burst into a million shimmering pieces. Magical and intense, her orgasm tore through her.

Yes, come, my beautiful Althea.

She did, out of control, wild. She barely drifted back to earth before he took her to ecstasy again.

Althea tried to hang on to sanity. Her head buzzed as though filled with bees, throbbed with the pounding of her racing heart. She struggled to open her eyes, to see him.

He was over her, his hand on his cock, and she knew she couldn’t fight him if he slid into her now.

Explore me, he urged. Please.

He was truly begging. And Althea sensed it was a foreign sensation for him.

She didn’t know whether to feel more powerful or more scared. But she touched his broad chest. Hidden by shadow, it was alive to her senses through feel. Beneath her fingertips, his heart beat slow and steady. She ran her palms over the broad, solid muscles of his magnificent chest. Curved her hands to fit over his solid pecs. Toyed with the dusting of curls.

White-blond hair fell over his face as Yannick ducked his head at her touch. Agonized pleasure showed on his aristocratic features. The sight made her tremble. His hand still rested on his cock and she glanced down. He gave his shaft a long, slow stroke.

Her cunny clenched in response.

She flicked her thumbs over his nipples and he gave a half-chuckle, half-groan. They peaked eagerly at her touch and she pinched them, just as he did to her.

“Do you like that?”

My nipples are just as sensitive as yours, sweet.

Althea glanced up, teasingly beneath her lashes. “Would you like them suckled then?”

His sharp intake of breath truly made her feel like a conquering warrior.

Anything you would like, love, I would.

A few hairs tickled her lips as she covered his dusky nipple with her mouth. She sucked, drawing the peak between her lips. It plumped out against her tongue.

She reached down, closed her hand around his wrist…

No, not his wrist, she realized. The thick, hard girth she held was his erect cock.

Please, stroke me…

“Show me,” Althea whispered, “Teach me.”

Yannick covered her hand with his, led her hand up and down the long, long shaft. Down to the thick curls. Up to the satiny, straining, wet head. Their hands were soon slick and sticky, working together.

His breathing came shallow, quick, and harder, until he lowered his head to the pillow beside hers and panted against her ear.

Althea moved her hands faster.

Yes, he hissed. Jerk me like that. Fuck me with your hand, angel. God, God, God, I’m going to explode!

His coarse, harsh words excited her, and she gripped him tight, rubbed him hard.

His hips jolted forward, his body bucked. His tongue slid into her ear, flicking wildly, as he grunted and groaned. His cock grew huge in her hand and she almost felt something rushing through—

His hot fluid shot out, spilling over her belly. He collapsed, pressing his hips tight, his weight supported on his muscular arms. With his head bowed, he took deep, ragged breaths.

Tentatively, Althea released his cock. She touched his face, stroked his cheek. Yannick lifted his head, gave an exhausted smile, and kissed her hand.

Watching him reach his pleasure had been so beautiful. “Do you…do you wish to do that again?”

He laughed. “I’m not as fortunate as you, my sweet. Only one for me.”

He caught her in the sweetest kiss. His fangs brushed her lip but she wasn’t afraid. Strangely, Althea found the sight of his fangs arousing now, not terrifying. Tenderness radiated from his eyes. She sensed it even though they shone like silvery-blue mirrors.

She drew back and dropped her gaze. Out of shyness? Out of fear? Suddenly, she just couldn’t look into his eyes.

Keeping her eyes shut, Althea felt the bed move. He’d left it. Even though she kept still and quiet, she couldn’t hear him move about her room. Had he left her alone?

Softness brushed her tummy. A cloth. With it, Yannick cleaned her gently. After, he placed a kiss on her cooling skin and smoothed out her crumpled nightdress. He lifted her as though she weighed nothing and arranged her gown around her, covering her hips, her still-tingly cunny, her legs.

It’s almost dawn, love. I have to leave you.

“I know.” With her eyes closed, she murmured it sleepily, drifting.

And you need to rest.

Rest, yes, because today they would open the crypt.

Althea prayed he really couldn’t read her mind. Prayed he didn’t know her father planned to open the crypt anyway. Was Father wrong to do it? Was she wrong not to tell Yannick?

All sorts of thoughts jumbled in her suddenly tired, confused head.

Yannick. How strange that she thought of him by his Christian name. Only hours before he had been, in her mind, a lofty earl or an evil vampire. A stranger but not a stranger. And now he had tasted her in places she had never even dared touch.

If she slept, what would she dream? About Yannick and the other man again?

That snapped her wide awake. She opened her eyes.

He was leaning over her, smiling down at her as he smoothed her hair. With the other hand, he cupped her waist, letting his thumb stroke the underside of her breast “Before you go,” she whispered, “Can you tell me what happened to you and your brother? Why you were imprisoned and how it happened?”

The second brother of the Demon Twins. Was he the other man from her dreams? Yannick’s brother?

His brow lifted in surprise but she sensed him shut off other emotions from her. “Your father never explained our story?”

“No.”

He sat up, lifting his hands from her. Althea felt bereft to have his heat leave. She wanted to reach out and touch him one more time—put her hand on his bare back, or caress his big, naked shoulder, but stopped herself.

I will come to you tomorrow night, Althea, and tell you everything. He stood up from the bed, standing in the moonlight, which seemed more ethereal now, fainter and less distinct.

Tomorrow night might be too late.

But he bowed and stepped back into the gloom, which was gray, not black, as dawn touched the sky.

Tomorrow. Let me explain all tomorrow. But do not let your father open the crypt.

Guilt burned through her and she looked down. She would have to help her father. It was what she had always done.

And she shouldn’t trust Yannick so easily. Shouldn’t let seduction convince her to throw aside all she had learned. Over a decade, she had seen what vampires were.

He is unlike any other vampire, her inner voice whispered. He controlled his bloodlust with you. He saved your father. He is different.

No. She couldn’t fall under a vampire’s erotic spell.

Althea, my love.

She stilled as his deep, beautiful voice called to her. Was this what the dreams meant? Love? She couldn’t fall in love with him. She couldn’t.

And what about the last dream? She couldn’t love two vampires!

Althea looked up to find Yannick watching her. His brows were drawn together, his mouth turned down at the corners.

“I will wait for you tomorrow,” she promised. “We won’t open the crypt.”

His lips lifted. Before she could blink, he vanished. She felt the faintest stirring of the air. The beat of wings. They fluttered over her hand like a caress—as though he was bestowing one last chivalrous kiss.

And then she was alone.

Althea crossed to the open window, shivering as the damp breeze flitted over her naked body. The sky had lightened. Deep purple splashed over the black, glowing with the soft sheen that promised daybreak.

Dawn was so close.

She prayed Yannick found safety.

Yannick closed the lid, crossed his arms over his chest. Her taste lingered on his lips. Her rich scent was on his face, on his fingers, on his slumbering cock.

What did the dreams mean? He had never dreamed about any other woman this way. And since becoming a vampire, he had never visited a woman without drinking from her. Nor had he visited any woman more than once.

Fortunately, he had found a maid beginning her day before daylight and had drunk from her. She’d offered him her tits and quim first, but he’d politely declined. He’d left her weak but healthy, with no memory of his bite, and had gone to where his box waited, placed as per his instructions.

Yannick closed his eyes. Drifted into sleep, still oddly conscious. He was even sure his eyes were actually open, yet the scene played out before him.

“Can you imagine both our mouths on you, love?”

He stood behind Althea, his hands on her slim shoulders. She wore a thin, almost translucent chemise. It fluttered with her quick breaths. Her hard nipples poked against the fabric.

He could smell her lovely feminine skin, could taste it as he bent his lips to her neck.

“Can you imagine my hands and his worshipping you?”

What was this? Bastien lay on the bed, grinning as he reached for the buttons of his bulging breeches.

He was to share Althea with Bastien?

Not this time. Not this woman.

But as the dream played out, he felt himself harden, the erection stealing his fading energy. Yannick tried to will it away, but damn his unruly cock, it stood up defiantly. Hell and the devil, it was a curse to sleep while aroused.

Even after all the women he’d shared with his brother, he watched in shock as Bastien stripped naked and approached Althea. Then they caressed her together and all that mattered was her pleasure.

But he’d never shared a woman that he—

Never a woman like Althea.

“Can you imagine the erotic pleasure of having both of us bite you?”

In the dream, his brother’s fangs launched out. As Bastien leaned to her neck, Yannick gripped his brother by the hair and yanked him back.

“Don’t you want to possess her?” Bastien demanded.

“No. I am not taking her from life. Not just for me.”

“For us.” His brother’s grin widened, arrogant and goading. “For both of us.”

His brother laughed and the dream exploded into a blinding white light, then faded into twinkling dust.

Bastien’s mocking laugh echoed in his head. Yannick fought to block it out.

Before Althea had come to him in his dreams, he’d planned to let his time run out and evaporate into dust. He hadn’t intended to use the incantation and release Bastien—once he was dead, Bastien would be freed anyway. Why in hell would he want to fight for his existence? He’d hidden the truth for ten years—if he continued to exist he would have give up everything. His title. His home. His country. People had begun to notice he never aged. His peers in London already joked that he’d sold his soul.

But to die now would be to leave Althea for Bastien.

He would be dead, so why in hell would it matter if Bastien captured Althea’s heart?

Day sleep stole over Yannick, pulling him deeper into darkness. He willed his fingers to move. They responded slowly, several heartbeats after he sent the impulse.

He remembered the way Althea’s lashes had shielded her eyes. The way her wide green eyes had darted away as he walked nude into the moonlight. He had caught her expression of guilt. He’d attributed it to a virgin’s shyness after tumultuous sex.

Damn, it was because she was lying to him.