Page 38 of Magick and Lead
She saw the tips of his fangs had grown, pressing now against his lower lip as he stared at her. Wanting her. She’d thought it was bad hanging out with men when all they were thinking about was sex. But being with a vampyre who wanted her for her blood? It was so much worse. And so much better.
“What are you going to do to her?” she asked in a small voice. “Capture her? Kill her?”
How would this princess fit into the Intelligence Bureau’s plans? And would Charlie get caught in the crossfire? One mantra Langford often repeated was,no whispers, no witnesses. He had even shown her the vats of acid in an old, abandoned meat-packing factory where the bones of inconvenient people disappeared—after Langford and his crew had drunk them down to raisins, of course.
“Don’t worry, Kitty,” Edward said in a voice hardly more than a whisper. “We will be as gentle with them as I am with you.”
His eyes met hers, then. Hypnotic. Commanding. He instructed her without saying a word, and she knew what she was to do. She slipped one shoulder out of her dress, then the other, and let it fall. Then she pulled her panties down past her hips and let those fall, too.
Edward looked at her from the tips of her painted toenails up to the curls of her hair. Slowly, he leaned in until he was cheek-to-cheek with her. He brought his lips to her ear and slowly inhaled.
“You still smell… alive,” he whispered.
Slowly, very slowly, he traced his lips down along her neck, past her collarbone, down the top of her breast. She was shakingnow, trembling like a flower in a breeze. Her nipples were so hard they ached by the time his lips traced her left areola. Then, he opened his mouth and brushed it with his fang. A soft squeal came from the back of her throat. She felt herself getting wet. Throbbing.
But she didn’t move. Or speak. Or flinch.
She knew her role. She was prey.
The tip of his tongue slipped across her nipple once, making it somehow even harder. Then he took it in his mouth. She felt the tip of the fang press against it, a twinge of pain, a prick of pleasure. Then, he bit.
Pain lanced through her, making her hiss. She started to pull away, but he caught her around the waist, his arms strong as iron bands, and he pulled her tight against him. Half a second later, the pain was gone, erased by the vampyre venom, with its radiating warmth and ungodly pleasure. He was suckling her now, drinking her hard and so fast she became light-headed. Then he switched to the other breast and, with the snarl of a beast, he bit it, too. She moaned as he drank, waves of ecstasy rolling over her. Her knees buckled, and he guided her down onto the wood floor.
Her other breast was still bleeding, and he rubbed it with his hand, making her breast ache with pleasure, smearing her chest and belly with crimson. Then his hand was slipping down between her legs, rubbing her, making her slick with blood—as if she needed any help. She was already so wet she could feel it dripping between her thighs, could feel herself throbbing, already teetering on the verge of climax.
He could feel it, too, because he pulled back suddenly, letting her bloody breast slip from his mouth. He rolled her over and pulled up on her hips so that she was on her knees, ass in the air as she gasped for breath.
“Gentle, gentle, please,” she gasped.
He was not gentle. He was inexorable. Entering her, filling her with the force of an avalanche. Cold as stone. Hard as iron. And big. Big as…
Oh, God…
Her mouth fell open in a silent scream as he moved inside her. His hands reached around, touching her breasts, painting her with her own blood, then running down, reaching between her legs to tease her with his bloody fingers.
Her mouth fell open, and a low, animal groan came out of her. She was coming now, each thrust wracking her, lifting her to a higher level of pleasure. The venom coursed through her, making the world swim. Every cell of her body felt alive. Electric.
“Mmm, you’re delicious,” he whispered, plunging himself into her once more, so deep a squeal came from her open mouth.
Then, suddenly, he was out of her.
It was a relief. And a torture.
“Don’t stop,” she begged in a breathy whisper. “Please, master, don’t stop.”
She felt his lips and fangs tracing down her shoulder. Down her back, down the cheek of her ass, all the way down to the center of her pleasure, still throbbing. She moved her hips, rubbing herself against his face, unable to stay still with the burning longing that coursed through her. She felt his lips open up against her. Then, he bit with force, as if he were crunching into an apple. She screamed, pain stabbing through her like a burning knife. But the pain was gone in an instant, replaced with… with…Oh God.
She felt his mouth working as he gulped her blood, pulling her pussy to his face as he drank her. Her legs spasmed, kicking involuntarily. Tears ran down her face. She screamed. And laughed. And moaned. And trembled. Still, he kept on drinking her. And the pleasure made her shake like a person electrocuted as she came and came and came.
The world came back to her slowly. It took effort to open her eyes, and when she did, she saw Edward standing at the mirror, tightening his tie. Two of his agents stood by the door, looking perfect with their matching black suits and slicked-back hair—each of them watching Kitty like she was a snack they were considering taking a bite of.
She started to sit up and winced. Her breasts stung. Her pussy ached. Her body was sticky with blood.
It was always like this. In the moment, she felt swept up with Edward, lifted in a tidal wave of ecstasy. And afterward, she felt like a fish washed up on shore. She grabbed her discarded dress and draped it across herself, hiding her nakedness from the wolfish eyes of Edward’s thugs.
“Clean yourself up and get back to your office at the Times,” Edward said without looking at her.
“What about Charlie and the princess?” she asked.
