Page 102 of Even Vampires Bleed
And yep, I’m hard again. Talk about a one track mind.
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Cassiopé
Something is wrong with Léandre, but he doesn’t want me to know.
I almost missed it when he gruffly said, “Good morning,” but there is no way to miss the low hiss that escapes him when he stretches.
I narrow my eyes and think to myself that I’ll get to the bottom of it.
All I need is for my brain to wake up a bit and then I’ll start my investigation.
I’m in a weird funk every morning since I proposed sharing the bed with Léandre.
It’s like my brain is trying to conjure every way I could share that bed with him.
I woke up this morning screaming as a spontaneous orgasm hit me. Well, spontaneous… as spontaneous as it can be when one unconsciously slipped her fingers inside her pussy while sleeping.
It’s been the same—more or less—every morning. I wake up panting, my body on fire and needing release.
Waking up with an orgasm this morning was new, though.
I was still breathless and had to take a minute for my heartbeat to come down.
This is how I feel every morning. Like I ran a marathon—well, a sex marathon, but a marathon nonetheless—all night, and I’m so freaking exhausted.
Except I can’t do anything about it.
Other than the obvious and make myself come.
But it never seems to be enough.
So yeah, I’m in a weird funk, my brain still sleepy and my body still high on the orgasm my dream gave me.
“I know it’s not nothing,” I tell Léandre. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m going to be okay,” he says this time, and I don’t miss the fact he didn’t say he was okay right away.
“Look at me when you’re lying,” I tell Léandre, and a cocky smile spreads on my lips when he turns his head in my direction right away.
The exact meaning of my words reaches his brain only a second later, and a smile graces his face.
“You’re a trickster, Firefly,” he says. “I just woke up. You’re not playing fair.”
His sentence is followed by a slight dip of his head to my legs before he catches himself and looks me in the eye.
I feel heat burning my skin, and I thank whatever god will listen to me that Léandre isn’t a wolf or dog shifter, because I don’t know how I would feel if he could smell my orgasm on my skin.
He probably would think I’m really not playing fair.
“Mmm. I’m the trickster?” I ask. I voluntarily don’t point out the nickname he gave me that gives me butterflies for how close it is to whatmyLéandre called me. “Are you sure? Because from where I sit, I only see one trickster.”
I pause, and then I let my hand trail on his shoulder before I reach the back of his neck.
He’ll see what happens when he lies to my face.
My fingers are only trailing on his skin until I reach the point that was full of knots a few days ago, and then I press with my index, making Léandre jump under my hand.
