Page 75 of Cloak of the Vampire
I lowered my brush and turned to look directly at her. Dark satisfaction filled me when I saw how her stupidly arrogant face turned a bright shade of red.
On her side, Magnus seemed to tense, as if readying himself for the worst kind of outcome, and the Frida Kahlo look-alike grinned. Murmurs and confused whispers came from my classmates.
After a few stunned moments, Margarita finally seemed to collect herself, and she sent me a look full of loathing. “Painting it is,” she hissed, venom dripping from her voice.
I smiled, rose from the stool, and gave them a mocking bow. I then returned to my seat and watched the painting from afar. I had to admit, it was one of my best works, with writing that looked like scars that hadn’t healed right, and the scars created four clear words:
He’ll never be yours.
CHAPTER 28
The timer went off, and I dropped the brush with a jolt. After stopping the annoying ring, I then turned to stare at the canvas to review what I managed to accomplish in five minutes.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t much: an abstract mashing of colors that should’ve been a certain landscape but didn’t quite form into any shape. Five minutes weren’t enough to create anything concrete, and so far, all my attempts turned out to be failures.
Annoyed with myself, with the Auction looming in the near future, I threw the canvas away and put my head in my hands. I had only three weeks to practice what I wanted to paint in the Auction, and yet I couldn’t even decidewhatto paint. Meanwhile, in the training room down the hallway from this workshop, Tansy was working on her choreography while Zoey was perfecting her martial arts routine.
Even Jakob’s juggling act was far more decent than what I’d come up with so far.
I heard the workshop door open and looked at the time on the digital clock Abe had given me. “I still have an hour left,” I said irritably, believing it to be Margarita, my favorite vampire, who decided to be my personal mentor—each of us got a mentor to help us perfect our performances—which meant she made me fend for myself, the bitch. I hadn’t seen her throughout the practice sessions, or ever since the assessment class. She was my mentor in name only; in truth, she was setting me up to fail.
Not that I wanted her to mentor me. Every time she came to tell me class was over, she gave me this sinister, fuse-igniting little smirk, making me want to choke her.
Strong, muscular arms appeared on the sides of my stool. A warm, hard chest pressed against my back. I froze. This was definitelynotMargarita.
“Working hard, I see,” Ragnor murmured. His hands went to my sides, grabbing my waist and pulling me back against him. Despite myself, a bolt of electricity shot through my veins, making every part of me tingle. “How about taking a break?”
The thought was tempting. We hadn’t gone at it since the other day when we were interrupted in the middle, and I found that I missed the feel of his cock inside me.
But my body and my mind weren’t on the same page. “I can do with a break,” I said carefully, and before his hands could roam anywhere dangerous, I shot to my feet and put some distance between us before turning to face him.
He was wearing casual clothes, his hair pulled into a tiny ponytail at the back of his head. He eyed me up and down with a heated expression that made me wish I’d worn anything but my dirty, paint-covered overalls.
Giving myself an inward shake, I folded my arms, waited until his eyes returned to my face, and said, “I want to talk first.”
His lips twitched as he walked toward me in lazy, leisurely steps. His eyes were now on my chest. “You can talk if you want,” he said in a low murmur that I could feel vibrating through my loins. “Let’s see how long you’ll last.”
My eyes widened. “Ragnor—”
He pounced.
I was weak in the knees when his mouth crashed into mine in a kiss. He swiftly unclasped my overalls and shoved them to the ground before lifting me into his arms, making me wrap my legs around him in mere panties and a tank top. He bit my lip hard, making me gasp,and snaked his tongue in, tangling it with my own as he walked us to a paint-splattered table nearby.
Once he sat me down on the table, he released my lips, tore my panties away, shoved his head between my thighs, and thrust two fingers inside me without warning.
My head fell back as I yelled, “Fuck!”
He pumped his fingers in and out, and the pleasure was too much. I tried to close my thighs, but his free hand pushed one of them back, keeping them open. I spasmed uncontrollably, all thoughts leaving my head, as he fingered me inhumanly fast.
The orgasm ripped through me so unexpectedly that I screamed, digging my nails into his arms as I rode wave after wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
When it was over, he took his fingers out and released me from his hold. I let myself lie back, trying to catch my breath, as I heard him unzipping his jeans.
Before any rational thought could return, Ragnor grabbed my waist and pulled me forward until he was between my legs. I felt his hot, hard, large cock against the wet lips of my pussy, and I gasped.
He pushed into me in a single thrust, causing me to arch my back and freeze. He was so big, he filled every inch of me, and when his thumb suddenly flicked my clit, I couldn’t help but come again.
He fucked me hard and rough as I was still trying to collect myself after the recent orgasm, but he wouldn’t let me. And when he flipped me so his chest pressed against my back, pasting me to the table, he thrust again, this time far deeper than before.
