Happy Monday! Hope everyone had a pleasant and safe weekend. I'm not going to lie, you lurkers - I see you reading in my stats, and there are quite a bit of you, but none of you ever check in to let me know what you think of the story or the characters or anything :( So I'm not going to lie, your radio silence is making this whole experience extra lonely.
But not all of you are ghosting me, so a huge thanks to Scarlett Empress and She-Devil Red for reviewing each week! Seriously, you two are the main reason why I'm still even bothering to update at this point. Love you, ladies!
CW: explicit sexual content ahead, but no penetration (yet). Things do get hot, though... like... damn. I can't keep V&F off of each other, they refuse to cooperate! lol
Copyright © 2021 TSM. All rights reserved.
Chapter 27
Heaven in Hiding
Vladislaus made his way down one of the dimly lit garden paths with purpose in his step, footfall virtually inaudible in spite of the gravel beneath his feet. His eyes scanned the darkness for any sign of his quarry, only becoming briefly distracted when he happened upon a small handful of guests that had also left the party to take refuge in the shadows of the night. He travelled deeper and deeper still until the foliage of his surroundings grew dense and the music from the ballroom more distant.
It took him several long minutes of searching, but at last he found her, situated in a more overgrown part of the gardens. Francesca had hidden herself away within the shadows of a little Grecian temple near a reflective pool, her back to the path, appearing to be enjoying the view of the rolling hills and mountain vistas just beyond. He had almost missed her entirely as her motionless person was presently shrouded in darkness, but it was the glistening of her diamond-studded earrings that caught his attention, the flawlessly cut accessories reflecting the light of the moon.
Leaving the marked path, he stepped into this more concealed part of the garden, his spine tingling with anticipation as he was swallowed up in the darkness, his approach careful and silent. The open temple in which Frankie resided had been overrun with ivy and climbing roses, their fragrant perfume filling the air. The water of the pool was still, allowing the stars to cast a perfect reflection, like that of a mirror.
Frankie looked like something out of a painting – veiled in darkness with streams of moonlight dancing across her face as it passed through the canopy above, the greenery softly swaying in the breeze as she looked out at the landscape beyond, leaning idly against the granite pillar at her side.
She must have sensed his presence, for she spoke suddenly, never once turning to look back at him.
"Is everything all right, Mr. Leinhart?"
Despite his expression, his voice proved deceptively mild.
"I was about to ask you the same question," he called out, hands casually behind his back as he joined her in the shadows.
"I just needed a moment's reprieve, that's all," she explained in even tones, quietly admiring the view. "Grand parties haven't really been my scene in years. I feel like the older I get, the more I find myself craving solitude or the company of only a small group of close friends, rather than these larger gatherings."
"Something I can certainly empathize with," he admitted with sincerity. "Still, I must confess myself rather disappointed that you took your escape the second you were able to leave your post."
"Were you? Why?" she asked innocently, finally turning to look at him.
"I had hoped to dance with you at least once."
He said the words with no degree of ceremony, stating them merely as fact as his attention remained fixed straight ahead, but he could feel the weight of her gaze, the sweetening of that tension between them. The corner of his mouth twitched a little.
Frankie chuckled softly.
"I assure you, you're not missing much," she explained. "I'm not nearly as good a dancer as Alayna."
Vlad finally turned to look at her and he held out his hand in invitation.
"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"
She looked at his hand with a carefully guarded expression, but he could sense the anticipation in her, try as she might to conceal it.
"Besides," he added, voice lowering an octave, "Your cousin is not the one I've been looking forward to dancing with. If she was, I wouldn't be here now, risking your refusal." She glanced up at him that time, noting the earnestness in his expression. Something about the way he looked at her made her feel warm suddenly, in spite of the cool mountain breeze that gently blew through the structure. "Come. Dance with me, Francesca."
"You mean right now?" she asked. "Here – in the dark? But we can barely even hear the music…"
Dracula took a bold step forward, closing the distance between them, his palm still out-stretched in waiting.
He only uttered a single word in reply.
"Please."
Frankie glanced between his face and his hand for a moment, considering as the music from the house finished and a faint applause of the partygoers was carried softly through the air.
Just as the next number began, she nodded her consent and took his hand, allowing him to lead her into his arms and into a basic waltz position. They danced in the shade of that small Grecian temple, the music from the ballroom low and distant, the setting generating a kind of intimacy that was not lost to either of them.
They moved across the secluded area effortlessly, their bodies fitted together in a manner that could only be described as seamless. Having him so near, his gaze consumed in her and her alone made it increasingly difficult to stay aloof or unmoved when she was anything but.
His hand was resting chastely at the small of her back, yet she could still feel the brush of his thumb on her skin and the contact left her flesh aching for more. She was fully cognizant of the unfulfilled longing that resided between them, but Frankie, desperate to keep things from escalating, broke the spell of silence as she attempted to strike up conversation.
"You never cease to amaze – did you know that?" she said as he twirled them about once, twice. "For someone of your height and stature, I never would have guessed you'd be so graceful, so light on your feet."
"For someone who insists that she's not nearly as accomplished as her cousin, your dancing is impeccable," he countered in turn and Frankie smirked a little.
"Every follow needs a strong lead," she said, realizing a little too late the effect her words had. The carefully bridled passion in his gaze deepened, the firmness of his hand in hers and the other at her back more purposeful as he guided her about throughout the number. "Why did you come all this way just to dance with me?" she heard herself asking, the question delivered with sudden timidity.
"Why did you go through the trouble of changing the color of your dress at the last minute?" he countered with a knowing look in his eye, a pleased, self-indulgent smile curving his lips.
Her expression softened, countenance taking on a more demure appearance as she looked away briefly, declining to answer.
"If we had still been in the ballroom, I wouldn't be able to hold you like this…" he explained, answering her initial query and he pulled her a little closer, "I wouldn't be able to look at you as I am… at least without raising any unwanted suspicions."
Frankie's gaze returned to his for just a moment as she in turn moved a little closer to him, the hand that had been resting on his arm moving up to his shoulder before she curled it around his neck, leaving her practically flush against him. Their dancing slowed and he brought their joined hands to rest between them.
"Did you do this for me?" he whispered, lightly touching the front of her dress with the back of his finger.
"You know, not everything is about you," she answered teasingly, but then he watched as her soft, pink tongue slipped between her lightly parted lips to wet them, an unconscious display of anticipation.
"Oh iubito…" he lilted, voice deep yet teasing, "when you wear that shade, and on a night like this… it is always going to be about me."
Her breath hitched at his words, the sweltering atmosphere of desire between them graduating with such intensity, Frankie felt herself grow dizzy with a heady kind of need. She knew what would follow that look in his eyes… which is why when their movements stopped and he brought her palm to rest on his chest, she made no attempt to put any space between them. Vladislaus lifted his free hand to touch her face, the tips of his fingers lightly caressing her lips as he studied her mouth with growing interest.
"What is it?" she whispered.
He remained still, pondering.
"I'd like to kiss you."
Frankie smiled a little, aroused at the suggestion.
"Are you asking?"
His eyes never once left her mouth, but he did nod faintly in reply.
"I don't want to overwhelm you like last time," he confessed before finally looking up to hold her gaze, his fingers caressing slowly down from her lips to her neck.
"If you can keep from slipping that hand of yours between my legs, we should be fine," she responded breathlessly, eyes fluttering in a dreamy sort of way that pulled him in deeper.
He chuckled darkly, eying the side of her throat with subtle interest as he traced her jugular thoughtfully.
"I'll try to resist the temptation," he promised her, his appearance a little grave. He'd be lying if he said he wanted to do far more than just kiss her. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the gnawing hunger in his belly.
"You'll try?"
"In my own defense, there's something about kissing you that makes the natural progression feel so…"
"Effortless?" she offered.
He nodded, moving his hand then to gently hold her by the neck, an unconscious act of dominance, as if to assure her on some level that he was in control. He felt her melt immediately into his hold.
"Instinctual."
He leaned in slowly, giving her time to anticipate as the tip of his nose lightly brushed against hers, their lips a breath apart.
"I wondered if I was the only one," she said with a bit of a sigh.
Dracula smiled.
"Believe me, dragă… you're not."
The press of his lips to hers was gentle, clinging as he moved to hold her cheek with one hand, his other resting at her lower back. With the second kiss, she could feel his palm on the move, a slow caress that travelled up her exposed spine until he was cradling her face in both hands, their lips bracketing their breath, the firm pressure of the contact tender, passionate… controlled.
That is until the third.
Their lips molded together in a hungry kiss as their passions mounted, her grip on the front of his shirt tightening and he coiled an arm around her, pulling her flush against him. The faint sigh that escaped her only served to inspire him into further depths of need as he thrust his tongue into her mouth – the movement erotically slow, yet aggressive, confident. The warm velvet caress sent her moaning softly and the sound, coupled with those sensuous slides of lips and tongue, sent something akin to an electrical current from the crown of Vlad's head all the way down to the tip of his cock. He felt himself go painfully hard, his trousers now uncomfortable and tight between his hips and the brush of what felt like her upper thigh against him had the man shuddering in delight.
Suddenly of the same mind, Frankie started to pull him toward the nearest wall even as he lightly pushed her in its direction until she was pinned in the shadows and their kisses deepened further still. The volume of her skirt did little to deter him as he reached around to squeeze a handful of her ass while pulling her against him, his other hand flat against the wall behind her as her arms wound around his neck.
It was when his kisses moved down to her neck that Frankie became aware of the gentle rousing of her dark passenger, the nameless demon still quiet in its cage – but for how long? Especially with Vlad lightly nipping at her skin as he was, sending round after round of shivers down her spine until her breasts grew heavy and her sex damp.
That familiar anxiety started to creep in as the natural friction between their bodies only served to arouse her further and desperate not to let things get too far, Frankie placed her hands on his chest, tilting her head back so he'd have a harder time reaching her lips as she breathed, "Slow down… too much… too much…"
Dracula obeyed in spite of himself, pressing his brow against hers when she lowered her head again and they both struggled to catch their breath, irises glowing and fangs lengthened in their mutual yearning.
"I'm sorry," Frankie immediately began but Vlad was quick to hush her with a soft caress of his finger to her lips.
"No, shhh… the fault is mine," he whispered. "Although this proves my earlier point - you make it so easy to get carried away," he added with a bit of a smirk and when Frankie sent him a pointed look, cheeks beautifully flushed, he quickly tacked on, "I'm only teasing."
"Well, you're no better," she replied, her words anything but. "All it takes is a single look from you and I'm suddenly throwing caution to the wind."
"Do I really affect you so?" he asked with genuine pleasure at her confession, still close to her, the breath of his words lightly fanning her face.
"You have no idea," she answered.
He kissed her again, just once and gently, allowing his lips to linger before he pulled back to gaze into her heavy-lidded eyes once more.
"There is no pressure for anything more than this, Francesca," he said, kissing her brow, then her cheek, maintaining his contact with her but his actions were deliberately careful now.
"I know you're not demanding anything outright, but…" Her thought trailed off when he paused, comprehending her thoughts.
"I apologize if I've made you feel that way," he answered.
"It's not you… I'm just…" Frankie groaned suddenly in frustration, momentarily burying her face in his chest. "Why am I such a bloody mess?" She looked up at him again, irises no longer glowing, the lust that had been there now having been replaced with a kind of agitation that he knew too well. "I don't want to hurt you."
Dracula remained silent for a time, allowing her words to linger in the air as he studied her for a moment, gently caressing her cheek with a thoughtful expression.
"Will kissing harm me?" he asked.
"No."
"Will touching you put me in danger?"
"Well, no…not really…" she said, though she said the words with noted hesitation as her eyes diverted down. Frankie noticed the state of his trousers and her lips twitched a little, her head tilting to one side as her brow arched. "Then again, if we keep this up, you may end up with chronic blue balls or something."
Vlad shrugged, nonchalant.
"It's just an erection. Not a medical condition," he countered without missing a beat and she laughed openly.
"Yet," she replied, still chuckling as she covered her mouth a little with her hand. "I feel terrible."
His sense of humor had had its intended effect, permitting the tension of the moment to wane to a more manageable level, and though Vladislaus continued to smile, his gaze remained fixed, attentive. He caressed her cheek again, the action bringing her eyes back to his.
"If it's easier to have me leave, I will do so," he offered, but then he felt her grip on the front of his shirt tighten in response, her head unconsciously shaking, a silent reassurance that she in no way desired his absence. "But if you want me to stay," he maintained, "you must know that I am finding it increasingly difficult to deny you anything, dragă. Especially when your body is humming the way it is," and one of his hands gently caressed up and down her naked spine to prove his point. Her irises immediately began to burn bright again.
She did her best to ignore the implication in his tone, but it was a struggle.
"I don't want you to go," she insisted, leaning forward as if she planned to kiss him, but instead she closed her eyes, resting her brow against his. At her admission, he felt her relax a little in his hold. "I don't think I could bear it if you left again," she confessed suddenly, the words barely a whisper. "I know things with me are complicated – and that that is such an understatement – but…"
Frankie paused, pulling her head back a little so she could study his countenance, her brows furrowed over a little as if she were deliberating over her next words.
"But being without you for all those months," she continued, "after the things I said… You have no idea how much it hurt to push you away like that, how much I still hate myself for not only letting you go, but for even encouraging you like this right now when I know I can't give you what you want, what you deserve… as much as I wish I could. It's so selfish of me, but I can't…"
Dracula took her face in both of his hands, cradling her as if she were this precious thing, his touch gentle. For the briefest of moments, she wondered if any other woman in existence had ever had the chance to see him like this, to witness the man they called dragon being so tender. It made her chest crack.
"I know you're frightened," he murmured, expression full of understanding and with his utterance, he watched as her eyes began to well a little with tears. "But I promise you, I'm not going anywhere. We'll continue to take this a step at a time. It'll all work out, somehow – I'm sure of it."
"But what if it's never safe for us?"
Her question brought him to pause for a moment, considering her query and the very real possibility that in spite of all their progress together, Augustine had still won and Mariella's prophecy would, therefore, never come to pass. While he never let it show, the suggestion not only frustrated him, but it also frightened him a little.
What if she was right?
What if things never worked out? What if – in spite of all their yearning and passions, not to mention their efforts with trying to better control her blood-rage and Bernardini desperately searching for some way to cure the poison that ran through her veins… what if it proved all for naught?
In the face of his secret worries, however, Dracula was astonished to discover that it was not fear that swelled in his breast when he looked into her eyes, but peace. He couldn't quite understand how or even why, but when he looked at Frankie, something told him that in spite of the obstacles that remained before them, somehow, someway, it would all work out.
In that moment, with only the moon and his beloved Francesca as his witness, Vladislaus Drăculea was choosing to have faith.
Hell must have just frozen over.
"Then I will wait," he said at last.
He had hoped his declaration would be enough to soothe her concerns, but she appeared doubtful.
"I want to believe that."
"So why don't you?"
"There have been others – so many others who promised to wait, who insisted that they could be content. But in the end, they always left." A single tear then trailed down her cheek, fear and a profound sorrow radiating from her being suddenly as if she were reliving a lifetime of heartbreaks at once. "And I don't blame them. I wouldn't even blame you… but I'm selfish, Vlad. I don't want to be without you."
"You won't," he promised her. "No matter what happens, even if we both decide that it could never work, I give you my word that you won't ever lose me. I will always – at the very least – remain your friend, if that is what you wish."
He was gratified when she visibly cringed while declaring, "I'm beginning to hate that word."
Dracula laughed.
"Only because your body is pulsating with a desire that nothing platonic can satisfy. I'm sure being without a proper outlet isn't helping either."
"Oh, it has an outlet," she replied. "I just can't utilize it."
"Tell me how I can help you, Francesca," he said after a moment's pause. "I want to help."
Frankie grew quiet in the face of his offer, expression filled with a kind of hesitation that had him waiting with baited breath.
Would she be brave enough to tell him the truth, to let him in?
To help inspire her decision, Vlad leaned in and kissed her softly, a cloying, lingering kiss that seemed to weaken her almost immediately. Her eyes fluttered shut when he repeated the action, holding his lips to hers a little longer as his fingers lightly caressed a path down the sides of her neck to her shoulders, a teasing touch that left her yearning for more.
"Say the words and free yourself," he breathed, the air of his tempting utterance lightly fanning her face. "You're safe with me," and he smoothed his hands down her arms slowly, the lace of her sleeves not enough to keep the heat of his palms away from her skin. "I've got you."
He threatened to kiss her again, but abstained this time, keeping his mouth tantalizingly close to hers, but not quite close enough, the space nurturing the need that was aggregating within her. He even teased her lower lip with the tip of his tongue, but refused to commit fully and she released a small whine, her hold on him tightening as her hands, which had been resting on his chest, moved upward, one arm to coil around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, and her other hand lightly touching his face. She closed the distance, returning his kiss.
He could taste her lust in the air.
"I need you to touch me," she breathed at last.
The moment the words were spoken, she could feel his hands smoothing along her back as he pressed her to him.
"I need to feel you…"
Then she felt one of his hands move to her waist, sliding up slowly until it reached the side of her breast, his thumb lightly tracing over the front of her bodice, circling over where her nipple would be and her breath came out in a ragged gasp.
"I want you…" she said at last, looking directly into his eyes as the words tumbled effortlessly past her lips. "Only you."
Her confession was all he needed to hear as he tilted his head forward to kiss her again, only this time with more purpose than before.
While the pace he set at first was slow and deliberate, his every touch and caress left her flushed and just a little high strung, every inch of her soon feverish and tingling as his breathless lips and sinful tongue moved from her mouth to her neck… then lower.
Frankie felt her inner demon shifting again in the back of her mind as her arousal continued on its upward ascent, her back pressed to the wall behind her as Dracula's mouth played over her collar, the tip of his tongue tracing over the protruding bone as his fingers lightly caressed the soft swell of cleavage that gently heaved with every breath she took.
Mine.
It was a dark voice that spoke the word deep in the recesses of her brain, a sudden onslaught of possessiveness shooting through her when he nudged some of the lace of her bodice out of the way. He then used his finger to rub away the concealer from her skin that kept the dragon insignia from his view. He kissed the brand on her flesh once it was revealed, nipping lightly at it, the soft prick of his teeth enough to set her blood on fire. But then he dragged his tongue over it, soothing the light indentations he had left behind and Frankie could have sworn she felt that tongue deep inside of her. Her knees buckled and she clung to the wall of stone at her back, struggling to stay on her feet.
Mine, the voice hummed again in her mind. Dearest beloved… mine.
Vladislaus breathed her name between kisses, nibbling and licking and kissing his way back up to the side of her neck until she was liquid in his arms, her eyes slitted in a lust-drunk haze, even as her irises burned violet, little flecks of ruby creating a thin ring around the black of her dilated pupils.
His name left her on the tail end of a soft moan, his mouth pressed against the front of her throat so he could feel the vibrations of her response to him. He licked the hollow before returning to the side of her neck again, tracing her jugular lustfully with the tip of his tongue before lightly raking his teeth over it.
She whined, an inarticulate sound and a little too desperate for her own liking as her grip then moved to his hair, her fingers lightly tugging at the roots in warning, though still too swept up in him to stop.
When he softly bit down on her neck again, this time in the crook between the bare column and her shoulder, she tugged harder with an erotic groan that made his cock twitch and the pressure at the base of his spine agonizing.
"Don't even think it," she warned him, bringing his lips back to hers in a searing kiss.
The intensity of their kisses had them moving again, but where she wasn't quite sure – all she knew was that his hands were holding fast to her waist and he was bringing her to him whilst stepping back. Recalling that there was a stone bench just a few paces away, Frankie guided his movements between kisses until the back of his legs hit the end of the seat, forcing him to fall back upon it. Before he had a moment to react, she had crawled into his lap, straddling his waist as they both feverishly pushed her voluminous skirt out of the way so they could be closer together, all in between frantic kisses and gasps of needless breath.
The night air was cool on her naked legs, but she hardly noticed as she moved up on his lap, fangs starting to peak out. She grinned devilishly when she felt the state of him between her legs, his whole body shuddering at the friction. He grunted beneath her, a strong arm coiling around her waist so he could bring her down on him again. He instinctually bucked upwards to meet her – anything to relieve the painful arousal that only continued to build and build.
Frankie rolled her hips forward, the action dragging out a hiss from him and she inhaled deep, her mouth hovering over his as she held his face steady in her hands. She kissed him with the next rock of her hips, tongue boldly exploring, running along the roof of his mouth and she felt his responding gyration beneath her. She moved again in reply, then once more, a little harder this time, and he groaned, the sound cavernous and full of a kind of erotic agony, his eyes burning an electric azure blue in the darkness. Her ministrations had his fangs soon extended to their full length.
She loved the sounds he made, and so she persisted; the writhing of her body against his enough to make him growl, a deep, animalistic sound that sent a shiver down her spine until she was rubbing herself against him like some kind of feral animal, suddenly possessed with this need to drive him into oblivion.
His length ached and mind emptied until he was consumed by a single thought – he needed to come.
God almighty, did he need to come.
He had forgotten how good this felt – sexual gratification, intimacy, the feel of another person's body bringing him to the edge. He absently recalled, somewhere in his fevered state, that it had been almost forty years since he had last been able to enjoy something like this. That realization alone was enough to send a wildfire of desperation through him as he held tight to Frankie's hips, guiding her, urging her to move faster, harder against him.
She kissed him once more – a mind-numbing kiss, filled with tongue and a hunger that mirrored his own – and Vlad's head swam, saturated in lust and pleasure as she clutched at the front of his shirt. He could see her irises were burning bright in her arousal, the flecks of red a warning sign that this was as hot and heavy as they could get without things getting dangerous, but in a moment of pure insanity, Dracula found himself craving her completion as well as his own.
Memories of her in that bathtub, taking charge of her own indulgence, the soft, edge-setting orgasm of hers that had haunted him for days now… he wanted that again, but this time, he wanted to be the one to give it to her.
He thrust his tongue into her mouth, surging his hips upward and holding her tightly to him, adjusting the angle just slightly. When she moaned into his mouth he knew he had rubbed at just the right spot. Her eyes had screwed shut, head shaking as if in protest as the feeling in her belly unspooled and ran through her limbs in a blaze. When she looked at him again, those flecks of scarlet in her irises had multiplied. Her demon was now cloying at the back of her brain, eager to come out and play and its presence poisoned her sexual excitement with fear – an intoxicating blend.
She grabbed hold of his face with one hand and a sudden firmness, staring straight into his eyes, the tips of her nails lightly digging into his skin.
"No," she said, as if she had seen his thoughts, his intentions, and then she defiantly maneuvered herself in such a way that allowed her to grind fully against his clothed cock without stimulating herself.
A little perturbed by her denial, the friction proved enough to distract him – albeit for the moment – and they clung to one another, brow to brow, nose to nose, vibrating with emotional intensity. As he started to chase after his own completion, Frankie maintained eye contact with unflinching purpose.
From the crown of her head down to the toes on her feet, she wanted him.
There was no rationalizing it anymore.
It was primal.
It was in the pitch of his voice when he moaned her name, in the way his skin felt beneath the palms of her hands, in the taste of him whenever his tongue entered her mouth as he kissed her. She wanted him… and he wanted her, and that realization made her feel more powerful than anything else had done in her centuries of living.
Here was this man, this king seated beneath her, and he was clinging to her as though she were the only thing in heaven or on earth that could keep him steady. Then there were those longing, aching, hungry sounds that tumbled from his lips, a wordless speech uttered in sweet veneration because of her.
Just for her.
Only her.
That possessive voice in the back of her head was chanting now, and with each recitation she rolled her hips until she had aligned to the rhythm.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
He started to place hot, opened mouthed kisses along her shoulder before burying his face in the crook of her neck as he neared the precipice. He whispered her name in low tones, the utterance almost like a plea for mercy, but then she felt the prick of his fangs on her skin and she roughly pulled at the roots of his hair again to keep him from biting her.
It was that show of dominance, that light touch of pain that sent him over the edge, a low, ragged cry as if he had been mortally wounded. A series of tremors worked their way through his loins until at last he was spent.
Then he went still beneath her, blissful relief softening his features.
With the end of the frenzy, Frankie's eyes closed as a soft breeze wafted through the structure around them, cooling heated skin and tempering passions as she gently pulled on the imaginary leash of her dark passenger, guiding it safely back into its cage, relieved that it hadn't tried to wreak the havoc she had been anticipating.
When she felt more herself again, Frankie brought her eyes back to Vladislaus, surprised to find him staring at her, his gaze unflinching, engrossed. He looked mesmerized.
She smirked a little in the face of his borderline dumbfounded expression, caressing his parted lips with her thumb.
"We probably shouldn't have done that," she said at last, though the mischievous glint in her eyes suggested otherwise.
Dracula's mercurial gaze heated for just the briefest of moments, the most devious smirk curling his serpentine lips.
"I couldn't disagree more," he said at last, evidently unfazed by the fact that they had just dry-humped each other like a couple of horny adolescents, leaving him to finish in his pants. "We should have done that much sooner," and she felt his hold on her thighs tighten as he started to bring her closer to him again.
Frankie laughed silently as she leaned forward, ready to kiss him, but the sound of someone approaching interrupted the moment.
"Francesca? Are you out here?"
It was Satanas.
Dracula's grin immediately turned into a disapproving scowl, not at all appreciating the disturbance. But Frankie was already climbing off of him.
"You should probably go change into some new trousers," she whispered, adjusting her dress while trying to suppress her own amusement. "Go… I'll distract him."
Vlad stood as she readied to leave, but before she could depart, he quickly grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back to him. He kissed her soundly, deep and without an ounce of hesitation, as if he was claiming her and Frankie melted.
"Save another dance for me?" he asked.
The look she sent him was smoldering.
"If you promise to hurry, the allemande is all yours."
He grinned, his pleasure at her response profound. Gently taking hold of her chin, he guided her lips up to his one more time, the soft caress sending her heart to flutter, and then he vanished in a whirl of shadow and mist just as Meirás rounded the corner.
"Ah! Cariño, there you are," the Spaniard exclaimed, motioning to her from the garden path. Frankie turned around to look at her maker, doing her best to appear as unaffected by what had just transpired as possible as to not raise any suspicions.
"Eduardo! What are you doing all the way out here?" she asked, making her way over to him.
"Looking for you. Armand said you had stepped out for some fresh air but you've been gone nearly forty-five minutes. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."
"Oh, I'm perfectly fine," she insisted with a smile, taking his offered arm. "I was just getting ready to head back inside."
"You know, it's funny – that Mr. Leinhart fellow has also gone missing as well. Rémy and Alayna have been looking everywhere for the man."
"I haven't seen him," she lied, giving him her best disarming smile. "Are you sure he isn't in the house? This is a masquerade ball after all. Maybe you all just missed him?"
"Oh, mi cielo," he exclaimed suddenly with a heavy sigh and he tsked, shaking his head as if in disappointment.
"What?"
Satanas was all devious grin and knowing looks as he leaned in close, lowering his voice.
"You are positively shameless!" Frankie's bewildered expression was enough to communicate her confusion and he laughed. Removing a handkerchief from his pocket, he then handed the small white cloth to her. "You might wish to fix the rouge on your lips, my dear, before you head back inside. It looks like he may have smeared it a bit."