Page 73 of Blood Lust

When we get in there, fight like hell.

Nodding, even though he can’t see it, I know he can sense the feeling of agreement.

We can do this.

I can do this.

But we need a plan for when they come for us.

My creature purrs and stretches, almost like she is gloating. I am going to have to merge with her soon. I have to get over my fear of the unknown and embrace myself, but I don’t know how to let go of the things holding me back. So until I can, we need to do something else.

Anything else.

We devise a plan. It’s not without risk, and there’s a good chance it won’t work, but we have to try.

I refuse to rot down here.

Ten minutes pass before I hear the first shots come from above. The party is starting. Glass is breaking, men are shouting, and I hear someone call over a radio outside my door. A guard must be out there, getting the order to fetch us. It is time to put our plan into action.

We watch as the door handle turns and a surly-looking broad-shouldered vampire enters. “Get up,” he demands, poking his head into the hall to see if anyone is coming. “We’re moving you.”

Slipping a purr into our voice, we say, “But I’d rather stay here with you….” He turns to face me, and confusion covers his eyes before he sees me and my hands. I rub my nipple, allowing the nub to harden. He can see it perk under the thin fabric of my t-shirt. “I’d rather touch you. I’d rather feel you.”

Lowering his gun, the guard shut the door behind him. The lock automatically engages with a loud click. “What are you doing?” He may be asking, but he knows. An involuntary step forward urges us to continue.

Spreading our legs wide, we slowly slip our chained hands into our pants. We are reaching, tracing, rubbing. We close our eyes, throw our head back, and moan as our fingers brushed against our clit.

His eyes are wide like he doesn’t believe what is happening. Not yet. We have to make him feel it. We have to make him want it. Standing, we shimmy out of our pants, revealing that we have no underwear on.

“Fuck,” he groans. I can see him harden under his pants. He wants it. He wants our body.

Stepping toward him, still touching ourself, sighing as we continue stroking, watching his eyes slide from our hands to our face. Another step, biting our lower lip, letting a quiet moan escape. He is losing his resolve. He has to be. He hasn’t demanded we get dressed, and he hasn’t grabbed us and dragged us out. He is ours, and we are so hungry, so ravenous. Not for his touch, but for his blood, and we will claim it before long.

We are in his face now, our hot breath tickling his skin, mingling with his own heavy breathing. Oh, so close to his mouth, his lips slightly part, we tease our lips against his. We press our breasts and body into him, letting another quiet gasp slip through. His mouth crashes down on ours. His hands slide over our bare ass as we sigh into his kiss. We use our hands to grope him through his trousers. He moans with longing.

Men are predictably easy.

Taking our hands and sliding them into his pants, we reach for him, stroking him. “God, that’s good,” he breathes in our ear. He pushes us against the wall, grinding himself against us as we move our hands up and down his length.

“Please,” we say, our voice quiet and begging. “Please, won’t you fuck me?”

He shudders under our touch. He wants to and he is so close to biting the baited hook. He is almost distracted enough.

He starts kissing my neck and reaches a hand down to touch our pussy.

Perfect.

I have to force myself not to stiffen at his touch. To pretend to want this, to want him.

We gasp, encouraging him.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, so deep,” he growls into our neck. His other hand wraps around the small of our back. We lean against it under the guise of capturing his lips with our own. Our grip on his cock tightens, and he thrust against us. We tighten our hold more, and he cries out. It has to hurt a little, but he apparently likes a bit of pain with his pleasure. He tries desperately to run his fingers over us, hoping to ignite more passion.

We quietly moan into his ear. He is butter beneath our touch. All melted and pliable.

Poor thing.

We pull hard.

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