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“Tell me what you need, Ira.”
Ungh. He didn’t know. Except he wanted to take the aching member bobbing over his stomach into his sweaty palm and pull on it. Or did he want Bell’s hand on it? Ahhhh. Then he leaked again, this time the warm fluid ran between the grooves of his abs. “Something… I don’t know…”
“Yes, you do.”
Wrath licked his damp lips as he stared at Bell’s mouth. He caught a glimpse of the tip of his fangs, which made his blood boil in his veins. Without thought, he tilted his head back as far as he could, wanting the yearning to stop. “Biiiite‘,” Wrath just barely ground out. His back arched off the branches when Bell dropped his head and licked a searing path along his shoulder to the jugular vein pounding fiercely beneath his skin.
Bell cradled his head, placing feather-soft-kisses along his neck. Then he felt the erotic scratch of one fang grazing over one of the major arteries in his throat. The opposing sensations were making him dizzy. The anticipation was driving him insane.
Bell squirmed against him as if he was one going mad with want. “I’m so hungry for you that I can’t wait anymore.” The feeling of Bell’s fangs driving into his body almost made him sing a song louder than any siren could. There were no words he could think of to describe the sensation of euphoria.
Wrath shook as Bell sucked in a deep, hearty pull, relieving so much of the extreme pressure at one time. He snaked his arm around Bell’s body and yanked him even closer as he drank insatiably. There was nothing delicate about Bell’s touch. It was possessive and forceful. Aggressive. And so perfect.
“Mmm, Ira. You taste amazing. So hot and powerful.”
He could literally hear Bell’s greedy gulps as his fangs dove a bit deeper, releasing another jolt of ecstasy through him. UNGH! Wrath’s dick jerked out of his control, then spurted thick, steaming amounts of white seed over his shoulder and onto the upper part of his chest. He released a startling yell, calling Bell’s name.
Bell never stopped his feeding, or his grinding and he wouldn’t stop whispering Wrath’s sacred name. The one he revered and held close to his heart.
“Ira,” Bell moaned, after releasing him. He placed his head on Wrath’s chest and ran his slim finger through the big mess he’d made on his stomach then dipped it into his mouth. He adored the way Bell worshipfully called his name. Maybe he wouldn’t wait so long before he sought out his special touch again.
“So, how’d you like it?” Bell asked Alek, on their hour ride back from the arts center. It was his evening to choose their plans, and he’d selected a night of fine music and drinks. While he wouldn’t have ordinarily called the Midcoastal Symphony Orchestra’s rendition of Beethoven’s No.7 a must-hear performance, it was decent. And he used the term generously because he’d sat in the balcony seat for the Vienna Philharmonic.
“It was… nice. It would’ve been really nice if one of those chicks would’ve grabbed a microphone and started belting out a Faith Hill song or something,” Alek said, shrugging.
Bell tried not to gape. They really were light years away in terms of cultural similarities. But that was okay, he could live with Alek not liking classical music. “Orchestras focus on the sound of the instruments, not lyrics.”
“Gotcha. Like I said. It was nice. I felt a little under-dressed though. You should’ve told me you were gonna show up like this.” Alek eyed him hungrily in the back seat of the black sedan. “Damn, I almost couldn’t watch the show.”
Bell shook his head, turning to stare out the window at the dark landscape flying by. Alek’s heavy palm roamed over his charcoal dress pants, and up his heather-gray cashmere sweater. “I like you in this color. It makes your eyes look lighter.”
Bell smiled. “I’m glad you like it. Farica altered my wardrobe this evening. Maybe I should try other colors besides black.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” Alek wrapped his arm around his back. “You really do look gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” Bell accepted Alek’s deep kiss, but he was quick to bring it to a stop before he ruined his pants.
“Are we going back to the cabin now?” Alek rumbled.
“This is a customary date. I’ve picked you up at your doorstep. We’ve seen a show. Now we need to go to dinner. You have to eat, do you not?”
Alek narrowed his eyes. “And what are you going to eat?”
“You.” Bell growled. “Hell, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. But I digress. Wick told me of a place he’s dined at with your brother a few times called the Terrapin Winery. They supposedly serve a mouthwatering prime rib.”
Alek laughed. “Which you know nothing about.”
“True.” Bell shrugged. “But, I know it’s your favorite part of the cow—”
