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“Fuck,” I cry out, coming on his fingers, the orgasm blindsiding me, stealing the air from my lungs.
I fall forward, my hair hanging over me, and now his lips are at my breast, sucking my nipple into his mouth. The orgasm doesn’t stop, it just intensifies and keeps going, and he’s still fucking me with his fingers, driving it home again and again.
“Oh my god,” I breathe, unable to take it, my body endlessly writhing and convulsing, feeling like I’m turning into gold confetti.
He drives his fingers deeper still, then brings my mouth back to his neck, where a little bit of blood remains, his wounds nearly healed. I feed again as he makes me come, sucking up the blood as the orgasm tears me apart.
He’s breathing hard, his own desire cha
nging the taste of the blood, making it hit differently, like I’ve just done several lines of coke and some molly. I dig my fingers into his shoulder, my other hand reaching for his cock again, wanting it inside me more than anything.
He lets out a growl that turns into a groan, and I think he might be too turned on to make me stop, or maybe too weak. I keep my grip tight around him, his cock growing larger, impossible to make a proper fist as I slide it up and down before positioning it against me.
Stop, he says in my head, his voice barely audible.
But I can’t stop, not now, not when I’m like this.
I want him so badly, I’m not even myself.
“Stop!” he suddenly roars. His hand shoots out with a splash, grabbing me by the throat and holding me back from him. “You don’t know what you’re asking for. But I do.”
I gasp, trying to breathe, my fingers going to his hand, trying to pry myself free.
His grip is too strong, fueled by the madness in his eyes.
I see pain in their depths remorse, rage and fear.
All the things he tries so hard to hide, tucked away behind that cold fortress.
This I know now.
Then he blinks.
Releases my throat so that I drop into the water, hunched over, coughing and gasping for breath. I know he can’t choke me to death, but it still doesn’t feel good.
He slips out from under me, gets out of the tub, walking naked across the bathroom and into his bedroom. I hear footsteps on the ladder, a creak of the floorboards.
He’s in the tower.
I sit there on my knees in the bloody water, my hands shaking. I press my fingers against my teeth, willing them to go back to normal, to stop being a monster.
Because I am a monster.
I got so carried away with feeding from him, I wanted to take all of him, every last bit. There are different types of vampires, and here it wasn’t only about feeding. Him offering up something sacred like his blood wasn’t enough for me.
I just wanted Solon, in every way I could get him.
Even if it’s not what he wanted.
I sit for a few minutes more, trying to calm my heart and breath, washing the blood off my face.
Then I get out, quickly towel off, and slip on my clothes.
I put my necklace in the pocket of my jeans, unsure if I should be wearing it right now, unsure what’s going to happen with us next. He’ll probably never let me feed from him again, and if that’s the case, then who do I go to? What do I do? Do I have to start killing people?
It’s all too much for me to even think about.
I leave the bathroom, slip through his bedroom, and then go out into the hall.
