Page 98 of Viripotent

Inessa

Exploring Vlad’s body is like discovering a new world. There are so many things hidden between the craters of his muscles and he’s physical perfection. The man could put a bag over his face, and it wouldn’t mute his beauty. Brutally handsome and equally merciless, his character and physical traits don’t hold any softness. Flattening my palms on his chest, I map every contour as my eyes follow the movement, when they go around his ribs I deflate, wanting to continue my perving.

Rather than be a normal person and ask, I speak in a language he understands and hold one finger between our faces and turn it in a circle like he did to me. The beautiful bastard smirks but does it. The massacre he finished is staining his skin despite the layers that were covering him. There’s not as much blood on the center of his back and I can still make out the designs. He’s been carved out of marble, the angel wings come out as he lifts his arms and I’m drooling.

My finger pauses on a poorly covered partial deck of cards etched into his skin as I trace down his spine. It’s a forced tattoo, one that someone started and couldn’t finish. But it’s the meaning that has my attention and it all makes sense. Fuckingignorant bastards, they hurt him because he’s different than their narrow-minded bigoted fucking brains could understand. Wrapping my arms around him from behind, I hug the little boy who had to grow up around homophobic fucking pricks and bite my tongue to stop from asking about his sexuality.I’ve heard his brothers joke about him being married to Dima and I won’t force him to live a life he doesn’t need to when he has his love literally outside of the doors.

My voice is low, and I tighten my arms around him as copper fills my nose.

“Were you really married to Dima? Or do you want to be?”

I’ll stay married to him if he needs me to, but it all clicks into place, he doesn’t sleep beside me or like spending time with me. Even Dima’s grumbling makes sense, he has to watch the man he loves live a fake life. But he laughs, it shakes his entire body, and he acts like an ass.

“Like fuck I’d marry that cunt. He has a face like a slapped dog’s ass.”

Well, the insult was unnecessary. He’s never shied away from fucking me or shown any disgust, so I let the topic go. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.

He strokes across my arms and my laugh is muffled into his back at the dry tone.

“My dick’s facing the wrong way, meelaya.”

Deciding to have some fun, I lock my feet behind his knees and slowly smooth my hand down his abs. My mind makes up the image and I press my lips into his back as my tongue pokes out, making random shapes on the only clean patch of skin. I’m wrapped around him like a backpack, and he doesn’t stop me, despite the tension in his muscles. He’s a monster and literally covered in blood, but there’s always a gentleness when it comes to sex. He’ll fuck me hard and fast while his eyes soften and search for proof I’m not in pain.

I reverse our roles when I’m the one that’s always left a mess with little touches and undo his belt. I slip my hand inside his boxers and lightly squeeze his dick at the base. It twitches in my hand and the deep rumble is against my lips through his back. He’s even bigger than I remember as I pull his dick free. He’s a controlling bastard and digs his fingers into my thighs, trying to get me to loosen my hold on his legs. He could rip me away but then I currently hold his brain in my hand. Tracing his length with my fingertips makes him groan in frustration as I get corrupted with power. It’s intoxicating, mixed with the smell of cardamom, sandalwood, and copper.

I’m high on Vlad.

Liquid touches my fingers as I reach the crown and I swap hands so I can taste him. It’s curiosity mixed with my senses begging for more of him. My legs loosen without meaning to and he turns abruptly at the same time my finger touches my lips. He bands his arm around my back and lifts me an inch to pull my pants off in one movement. They go over his shoulder without any care when they’re my favorite and I own ten pairs of them because they’re so comfortable. My argument is a moan not having any impact with the feeling of his bare dick touching me where I need him.

“Stop throwing my things.”

My eyes roll back in my head as he scrapes his teeth against the point my neck and shoulder meet. There’s something about his bite that always makes my toes curl and I turn into a lust-fueled crazed person forgetting everything. The deep husky voice is my undoing as he kisses a path up my neck.

“Want me to throw mine?”

Nodding because I don’t care as long as he fucks me, his laugh is dark and has no sound as air brushes my sensitive skin.

Gripping my favorite comfy t-shirt in two hands, he rips down the middle, jolting my body. There’s no time for me tocatch myself as he lifts my naked body with his hands under my arms and fucking propels me across the room. Landing on the bed with a bounce, the springs catch me and realization slams into me.

Want me to throw mine?

He threw me.

Sitting up on my elbows, trying to get my brain to focus on lust, my legs close, not wanting him to see the blood. It’s stupid as fuck when the devil stalks forward covered in the substance, but my mind has been programmed that the natural blood between my thighs should be hidden and the violent liquid on Vlad is a point of pride. He reaches me in three steps and grips my knees before roughly parting my thighs. He stares between them as my skin heats. The rough voice comes out, but it’s the words that make me freeze.

“I could watch you take a shit and still get hard.”

Animals are more fucking gracious than this prick. Kicking his hip doesn’t hurt him, and I try to cover myself with my arms.

“Who the fuck thinks of that? Never mind fucking says it.”

My anger doesn’t even make sense, but he does this all the time, says the most fucking absurd things like he doesn’t have quality control on his tongue. He grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head as he fully steps between my thighs, turning smug over my reaction.

“It was a compliment.”

I argue back, not accepting it and wanting his anger.

“The biker was better, he told me I looked sweet. He even had to taste it just to believe I was real.”

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