Devour Me. Lydia Parks
He grabbed her arm and drew the wound to his mouth.
The taste, both foreign and wonderful, made him whimper, and he sucked to draw more.
“Enough,” she said, jerking her arm away.
He tried to snatch it back, but she held him off with ease.
“Not like that.” She helped him to his feet.
In spite of the shaking, he felt strength unlike anything he’d known running through his arms and legs. He could have lifted the Spencer off the rocks with one hand if he’d had this strength during the storm.
Yet, Cassandra guided him with ease. He knew, somehow, that her strength was greater than his. He felt the power in her slender fingers as she unbuttoned his breeches and drew them down, kneeling before him to help him out of his boots and clothing. She raised his shirt off over his head. Cold air drifted past his bare skin, but he felt no sensation of discomfort.
She led him to the bed he’d occupied for the past week, a small bunk against the wall. As he sat watching, she drew her shift over her head and discarded it.
Her body was womanly, smooth, and pale—as perfect as her face. His fingers itched for the feel of her flesh.
Teasing him by running her hands over her breasts and down to her hips, she crept silently forward, her steps fluid and graceful. By the time she stood within arm’s reach, his cock had hardened to its full size. He gripped the blanket beneath him in his fists.
Cassandra cooed as she straddled his legs and positioned herself in his lap facing him, combing his hair back and then feathering her fingers across his shoulders. She reached between them to aim his swollen cock into her. He barely bit back a groan.
As her cunt worked its way possessively down his shaft, he touched her thighs, and then her hips, thrilling to the feel of her soft skin. He caressed her breasts and watched her face for approval. Her luscious lips curved into a smile.
A throb in his gums accompanied his growing desire. His probing tongue found fangs to match hers with points as sharp as needles.
When his cock was sheathed, ready to erupt inside her, she held his gaze with her own and his thoughts suddenly scrambled into an incoherent mass. He felt, and sensed, and knew, but couldn’t think. Urges tugged at his gut, primal and base. He didn’t understand, and didn’t want to.
Giving permission, she raised her chin, baring her throat.
He wrapped his arms around her, cocked his head, and, with a beastly growl, buried his fangs in her neck.
He didn’t actually taste her blood, but experienced it as if drawing in her soul and heart and making them his own. He felt her fondness for him, her arousal at their joining, and her satisfaction from drinking her fill of him. He knew the darkness of her beast, part of which he now carried. He sensed eternity.
She drew him away by a handful of hair.
He licked the last precious drops of her blood from his lips.
“Now you belong to me,” she said.
He understood without explanation. Whatever she asked of him, he would do, no matter what the cost. If she left, he would wait like an obedient servant for her return.
She kissed his mouth as she rose and slid back down his cock, moving in time with the ancient rhythm of mating, drawing him to the brink of release. He held her tighter and savored her mouth under his.
Her rhythm increased and she rode him mercilessly, her hips moving forward and back. She ran her tongue up one of his fangs and down the other, and he shuddered at the pleasure.
His need to release his seed grew painful. She used him as she wanted; her cunt swelled and tightened around him.
In one swift movement, she drew his head to one side and bit his shoulder.
He cried out, but not in pain.
Her spasms of release pushed him past what reason remained, and he sank his fangs into her neck again.
This time, he drew out her orgasm, tasting it as his own, and his seed finally erupted, sending him to dizzying heights of bliss.
He clung to her and drew harder as his cock pumped.
When she pulled his mouth from her flesh the second time, they looked at each other and smiled. Blood dripped from her canines and satisfaction glowed in her eyes, surely matching his own.
His animal nature retreated, allowing back in basic thoughts and the prickling of concern over what had just passed between them.
“What are we?” he asked.
“Creatures of darkness,” she said, stroking his hair back from his face, “as eternal as the stars.”
She ran her index finger across his bottom lip, removing the last drops of blood, and sucked it from her fingertip.
By the time Star woke, it was well into the day and she was alone in bed. She stretched, sat up, and looked around.
The fireplace stood cold and dark, and Wendy’s bag lay open next to her own backpack. Judging by the lack of clothing draped over the furniture, the others were dressed and out.
Star hopped up, ran to her backpack, and dug through it until she located the portable USB drive. Reassured, she sighed. What the hell was she going to do with the thing? Jones wouldn’t look for her so far from home, not for a simple list of weekend wagers. He’d piss and moan about the fact that his flash drive was stolen, pay off his dozen customers, then start over. No big deal.
Still, she didn’t want to carry the thing around. It was a part of the life she’d left behind and wanted long gone. She’d only taken it to piss him off.
Tucking it into a side pocket of her backpack, she dug out clean clothes, dressed, and checked the kitchen for coffee. Finding none, she stepped out the front door into midday sunshine. Nothing was left of the storm except small branches in the road and yard. Birds chirped from every tree.
Once through the gate, Star turned back to study the house in the light and sucked in a breath of surprise. She thought they’d stumbled onto a mansion, but it looked more like a freakin’ castle. The walls, built of dark brown and gray stone and partially covered with vines, rose at least three stories and stretched for twice the length she’d guessed. Above the third floor were towers: a large one at the back and small one at the front, both with windows all the way around. The view must be fantastic from up there.
Huge trees hid a lot of the building from the road, but standing among the trees, the place felt majestic, and a little intimidating. Like its owner.
Who the hell lived in a castle in the United States? Benjamin Bartlett must be filthy rich.
“’Bout time you got up.” Wendy bounded across the empty street. “Isn’t this day amazing?”
With her attention pulled from the building, Star realized the temperature was perfect and the sky above held no hint of clouds. “Not bad.” She glanced to where Jack and Kyle stood half hidden under the van’s hood. “What’s up?”
Wendy shrugged. “They’re still trying to figure out what’s wrong.”
“Great.”
“Hey, we could be stuck in a worse place.”
Star pictured Benjamin’s face when he returned home to discover them still there. Something about the way he carried himself suggested he might not be much fun to be around if he were truly angry.
“Come on,” Wendy said, “help me fix something to eat.”
After one more appreciative look around, Star followed her friend back inside. They dug through the pantry and found three cans of chicken soup, a box of crackers, instant coffee, and several tins of sardines. Star leaned against a counter and peeled back the top of a sardine tin. She’d certainly lived on less.
Wendy