Page 53 of The Biting Bargain

I almost say pineapple.

Almost.

I should be scared. Or at least scandalized. I’m neither. Only turned on beyond belief, and charged, like my body is a live wire and all Vincent needs to do is touch me to short-circuit the whole thing.

I stare at the plug.

It is black as night, four black spheres stacked on one handle, the lowest as big as a golf ball, the smallest at the top walnut sized. It looks like a kinky popsicle and I shouldn't find this hot, should I? But that twisted naughty part of me churns with delight and I clench my thighs involuntarily.

Damn, this is so wrong, why does it feel so good? Just as before, when he choked me just the right amount, I squeezed my nipples extra hard, riding out that little slice of pain as I came. It was embarrassingly good.

"You will like this, too, little dove," Vincent drawls somewhere behind me, and the low vibration of his voice alone is enough to make me shiver all over. "Trust me."

My mind is swirling. I must be completely crazy to trust a vampire with centuries of kinky experience under his belt and more than a little sadistic streak. He could snap me like a twig. He could devour me whole. And somehow I trust him that he won’t.

"Okay…" I whisper and break into a fresh rush of shivers as his broad hand slides down my back, almost like a caress.

Then I flinch as something cold and gooey is dripping on my lower back. Lubricant, my frantic brain pipes up and my whole body goes rigid when Vincent’s hand slides lower.

"Sssshhhh…“ he soothes me and I feel like a shivering little animal in the clutches of something lethal. "Relax.“

He kisses my neck, softly, tenderly, one hand sliding underneath me until his broad hand gently cradles my throat. My entire body softens. I melt into his embrace as he trails his mouth down my neck and along my shoulder, relaxing warmth spreading in my body. If I could, I would rub my back against him and purr. Yet I gasp a little when he slides a finger into my tight hole, prying me open.

"Just breathe,“ he whispers in my ear, triggering a fresh cascade of goosebumps. "Let me make you feel good.“

A little moan escapes me at the strange sensation of being invaded where no one has ever invaded before. It feels so good that I nearly miss it when he withdraws, and suddenly something round and bulbous presses against my hole.

A moan escapes me as the first bulb passes my tight ring of muscles.

"How does it feel, dove?“ Vincent’s lips brush the skin on my shoulders and despite myself I whimper in response.

"Tell me.“

This is an order. I rake my brain for the right words to describe the strange and burning sensation of being stretched — there. But it’s…

"It’s good…“ I gasp.

"Thought so,“ Vincent croons, starting to work the bulb in and out of me, ghosting more of those intoxicating little kisses up and down my neck, his other hand cupping my breast.

He works the bulb faster now, and I lose control of what my body does, as I start to twitch and arch into that strange invasion, clawing the heavy cushions of the sofa. He works another bulb past my ring. And another one. Losing myself in the sensation, his embrace, his kisses, my mind starts to fog out. This feels far too good, it feels like falling and being safely caught, cradled in an embrace that is far too lovingly, too much in contrast to the Vincent I know — tough, cynical, aloof. But this is different.

This doesn’t feel like being ass-fucked with a dildo. This feels like being worshiped. And it’s confusing, too much, too good, his kisses on my neck, that weirdly good sensation of being stretched — and this other feeling of being cherished and held like I’m a treasure.

The wave of pleasure building up inside me is almost too much to bear. When I come it’s hard and unexpected and I smash my face into the cushions to stifle my sob, and then for some time there’s only white noise.

When my thoughts recompose themselves, I'm lying on my back on the sofa, Vincent kneeling on the floor in front of me, bending my trembling legs open, his coffee-colored eyes meeting mine.

"Enjoy," he says before he dips down. Low. And I groan when he starts to go down on me like there is no tomorrow. I squirm against his grip, but he holds me open for his use and I melt. I stand no chance against the double stimulation of the bulb-plug and his wicked tongue. Another climax washes over me, longer this time and more intense and all I can do is hold on for the ride.

I feel dizzy when he gives my pussy a final flick with his tongue, hardly able to respond when he asks me: "Are you done, little dove, or do you want more?““

ChapterTwenty-Five

Vincent

Polly is shivering underneath me,charged up like a lightning ball, and the intoxicating taste of her pussy charges through me like electric shocks. I could have fucked her senseless right here and now on the sofa, preparing her cute little ass for what I have in mind for her — and what a fantastic sight that would have been! — but somehow, I…don’t want to.

It’s weird. I’m hard beyond belief, ready to go like I haven’t been in over a century. I planned my usual spiel — a little rough foreplay here, a little sexy degradation there, and then fuck her six ways from Sunday until she passes out.

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