“Thank god.” I push aside her soaking underwear and bring my mouth to her, finally tasting her in a long, slow stroke that blinds us both with pleasure. “Do you know,” I rasp, “how long I’ve waited for this?”
“Orfeo.” She breathes my name, hips bucking in a helpless wave of desire against my mouth.
I palm her thick thighs and lift her easily to my mouth. I devour her the way I will one day devour her neck, her thighs, her wrist. I chase every drop of her arousal; I give in to the hungry beast inside of me. My own pleasure builds as her thighs tighten around me and her muscles quiver. I mercilessly pursue pulling loud, breathless moans from her.
Her back bows off the wall, her knees tremble, her fingers tighten in my hair as she comes against my tongue. My own release isn’t far behind, and when I finally pull my mouth away from her throbbing clit, my hunger is at least partially satisfied.
I set her down gently, holding on to her waist as I bring my mouth to hers. She continues to shake, and I hold her steady. Her hands roam freely as I cover her neck and chest in kisses, tasting the last dredges of her pleasure. Eventually, I feel her still between my chest and the wall.
“Your pants are…”
“Wet?” I pull back and smirk. “You have a lot to learn about vampires.”
Diantha flashes a shy smile, so unlike herself. “Fuck, I guess I do.” She shakes her head. “I don’t understand how…how we do this to each other.”
“Is it that much of a mystery?” I trace her mouth with my thumb. “It’s the magic.”
She catches the pad of my thumb with her tongue, and I curl a finger under her chin, pulling her to me in a hungry kiss. Her teeth close around my bottom lip, and as she pulls away, I release a groan.
“Upstairs,” she whispers, regaining her breath. “We have to…”
“Right.” I smooth her hair off her flushed face. “Let’s go.”
Diantha
Absolutely no time tothink about the fact that I just had sex with a vampire in public.
None!
No time to think about how everyone can probably smell the lust, orgasm, and vague shame radiating from me like stink lines off Pig-Pen. And definitely, definitely no time to think about how Orfeo doesn’t seem quite like other vampires.
He’s gentle, sweet,devoted.
And gorgeous.
No. No time at all.
He pulls me through the first floor of the club where a few different men sit, locked in conversation with vampires, splayed out over cheap white couches that look like they fell off a truck on their way to Las Vegas.
They’re all coupled up in nuzzling, whispering poses, and it doesn’t take me long to understand that these vampires are not like Orfeo. In fact, none of them even seem to look like each other. Some have the type of deathly pallor you expect from a nocturnal creature; others have taken on a green or blue tinge in a range of depths. Others look nearly human.
I spot one vampire with long fangs that have been filed into exaggerated points and another duo with full sets of razor-sharp teeth. A gorgeous vampire with waist-length braids and deep brown skin patrols the room in a pair of short shorts, a tuxedo shirt, and a cravat, playfully swatting her left hand with a paddle.
She’s clearly meant to be some sort of security without ruining the mood.
“Hey, Fee.” Her voice is the definition of sexy, all deep and smooth. She holds out a fist for Orfeo to pound.
“Ciao, Misha.” He presses his fist to hers then leans over and kisses her cheek. Before I have a chance to roll my tongue back into my mouth and introduce myself, Orfeo’s pulling me up the narrow staircase that leads to the second floor.
Up here, EDM thuds over the sound system, causing my teeth to vibrate in my skull. On one side of the room, there’s an elevated platform where vampires move to the music, contorting around a set of poles. Orfeo leans in, his lips skimming my ear, and tells me they’re a renowned dance troupe from Berlin. One of the vampires—waifish and slender with pale blue skin—grips the pole with their inner thighs while bending backward to grasp their six-inch heels.
The club lights catch on their fangs, which look too long to not be painful. They descend slowly in their contorted crescent shape before spinning out of the pose and landing in a violent split. The humans and demons watching hoot and whistle, sending a shower of dollar bills onto the stage.
On the other side of the room…
Well, it’s hard to understand what’s going on over there. Through the flashing lights and otherwise complete darkness, I make out writhing, half-naked bodies moving in total discord. It’s like watching the ocean trying to drown itself. Some bodies look human while others look supernatural. Tongues tangle together outside of mouths, hands grab and feel and yankmercilessly. I spot one man’s still-bleeding neck on full display while he dances and sips a cocktail.
Through the chaos, someone catches my eye—a familiar sparse hairline and red nose. But instead of wearing his usual pair of ill-fitting trousers and sweater vest, he’s in adog collar.Spiked, no less!
