CW: vulgar language and explicit sex that borders on gratuitous because I have no shame (or restraint after going this long without, haha!). There's multiple orgasms, some edging, a whole lot of oral, a good bit of dirty talk and playful teasing, and someone gets his prostate played with. For those that get squeamish about ass-play, 1) these two are vampires, so they don't defecate (aka: things are inherently clean), and 2) they're centuries old and have zero inhibitions. Nothing is off limits... and that's going to become even more apparent in the next chapter ;)
Hopefully this was worth the wait. Y'all can't even begin to imagine what my anxiety is like right now... *insert nervous laughter here*
Copyright © 2022 TSM. All rights reserved.
Chapter 8
Devoured
Antón Bernardini smiled as he looked between Vladislaus and his new bride. At first glance, one would never have guessed the rite they had just undertaken, the significance of it, the power they possessed – not only separately, but as a new and unified whole. They were still dressed in their civilian clothes, and yet the way they stood, side by side, hand in hand – tall and proud and dignified. Something almost sacred settled into the room as the newly blood-bound pair turned their heads to look at one another.
The dawn had begun to color the night sky over Budapest outside the window just behind them, a dark violet sea bleeding hues of crimson near the horizon – a sign.
The first part of the prophecy had finally been fulfilled.
Which meant…
Antón, smiling, began to clear the altar, placing the remaining items back into the box.
"I better get going," he announced suddenly. His king broke eye contact with his bride first, Dracula turning to his friend.
"So soon?" Frankie asked.
"I'm not sure if he told you," Bernardini began, motioning with his head toward Vlad, "but before Lilith decided to change sides of the board, she and I had an arrangement. If the two of you became blood-bound before the year was out, I would receive something for my efforts."
"And I thought only the Spanish were all busy-bodies," the woman mused to herself. "What did she promise you?"
The Italian smiled.
"Temporary access to my wife," he said.
And with the newly formed tie between himself and Francesca, for the first time in his centuries of living, Vladislaus could appreciate the motives of his old friend. Which is why he chose to spare him any chastisement or teasing for his previous meddling.
"Is it just for the day, or…?"
"A full twenty-four hours, and I don't want to waste a second of it," and Bernardini quickly snuffed out the candles with his two fingers before putting them in the box and closing the lid. He snapped the latch in place and then rose to put the small end table back where it belonged.
"I can do that," Frankie began but Antón quickly lifted a finger to stop her.
"No! No, no, no… you will do nothing of the sort," he exclaimed, much to her surprise, but the man didn't appear offended by the offer – just… amused? "Please keep your hands together until after I leave." The look he sent Vladislaus made the woman all the more curious.
"Wha… I don't understand."
"You will," Bernardini said cryptically. Then he returned his attention to his sire. "I hope when you both agreed to do this that you carved out some time to…"
"We have four days."
Antón whistled as he made his way to the door.
"That's barely enough time, but it's better than nothing, I suppose."
"How long does it normally take?"
"With Mariella and I, it took a full forty-eight hours just to level out again. But you'll recall how we were for that first year."
Dracula grimaced.
"I'm still trying to forget."
Bernardini laughed heartily.
"I have a sneaking suspicion the two of you may be infinitely worse! But, then again, your sense of discipline was always better than mine, so who knows…" Before the Italian could depart, he paused, hand resting on the handle of the front door as he turned to look back. The couple were still standing in front of the fireplace, hand in hand. His smile softened for just a moment, a look of what Frankie could only describe as pride and relief in his eyes. "I am happy for you," he said, voice brimming with sincerity. "For both of you."
The pair only nodded in acknowledgement.
Antón opened the door. He pressed in the alarm code on the touch-screen installed into the wall and then he stepped out into the hallway. He peeked his head in one last time before departing.
"Don't forget to feed on something other than each other," he called out with a laugh, and then he shut the door. The automatic locks then clicked into place, sealing them inside.
Frankie's brows furrowed a little in confusion and she looked up at Vlad.
"I hope you're going to explain what he was referring to."
He didn't.
Instead, Dracula gently squeezed her hand and motioned with his head toward the stairs.
"Come… let's go to bed."
With the sky beginning to lighten, she assumed he meant to rest for the day, so she didn't bother to question him. The metal blinds over the windows started their automated morning descent as the sun drew closer to the horizon. Frankie grabbed her phone as they made their way toward the stairs. While ascending, she noticed she had at least a dozen missed calls from Lyra.
"That mother hen," she groaned irritably.
"She probably felt the blood-bond forming."
"Let me call her real quick to tell her I'm fine, and then I'm turning the damn thing off for the rest of the week," Frankie said with a laugh as they entered the darkened bedroom. Dracula flicked a switch on the wall to turn on the gas fireplace, but that was the only light he conjured. His hand never left hers, however, even as they stopped in the center of the room.
She brought the phone to her ear only to immediately pull it away when Lyra picked up a half a ring later, her voice coming in loud over the speaker.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON AND WHY HAVEN'T YOU PICKED UP YOUR PHONE?!"
Frankie brought the mobile back slowly.
"Okay, first off, Lyra Kennedy, lower your voice," she began, sending an apologetic look to Vlad. "I don't appreciate being shouted at."
"Sorry," Lyra huffed with a more reasonable tone.
"Secondly, I'm fine. I'm sorry for freaking you out – I should have warned you first."
"Yes, you should have warned me! What the hell was that? What is going on? I had the weirdest feeling come over me not ten minutes ago and I still can't shake the tingles. And the whole time, I was having the weirdest vision of a dragon and purple fire and…"
Lyra rattled on like this for a while and, as she was wont to do, and Frankie listened with tremendous patience.
Vladislaus, on the other hand, had already begun to lose his.
Not even five minutes had they been fully bound, and already he was being forced to share her.
His brows furrowed over a little, about ready to snatch the phone from Francesca and tell that infernal redheaded friend of hers to piss off when a more diabolical idea suddenly came to mind. Mastering the deviousness in his expression, he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to Frankie's brow.
And then he let go of her hand and took a step back.
The reaction was immediate.
The air shifted between them both with such abruptness, Frankie visibly quivered once through from head to toe before going deathly still. Her eyes widened when she felt it settle fully within her just then: a deep, heavy ache in her pelvis, followed by a tingle that radiated all the way up her spine and into the back of her skull. She turned her head to look at him directly, realizing as their blood-bond finished making its final snap into position that he had felt it too... An overwhelming, consuming need to copulate… to consummate.
To fuck.
Oh, sweet devil in hell, Frankie had not been ready for it, and by the look in Dracula's eyes, he hadn't been fully prepared either.
She could hear the echoes of need in his body coming in from that newly formed bond, until it was so intense, it had sent her own blood humming. And with a single glance down toward the pronounced rod between his hipbones, she could see that he was already erect, that thick length straining, begging to be set free, to find a home in the snug and welcoming heat of her.
The mere thought of him working her open on his rigid cock nearly left Francesca blind with the need.
She licked her lips unconsciously.
Vladislaus said nothing, only watched her closely as she unabashedly stole a lingering glance down at that space between his hips as if to make sure it wasn't all in her head. He could almost feel the heat of her gaze searing his skin, as if she were stroking him. Lust speared through her upon that closer inspection of his person and Vlad could sense her body's reaction in the same instant that it happened – that internal quiver in her channel clutching at her emptiness, the slick wetness. It made his mouth water.
"L-Lyra…" Frankie stammered breathlessly. "We're going to have to continue this conversation sometime next week." Lyra was already protesting on the other end, asking what was happening, but Francesca was half-gone already. "And you may want to put up a mental wall between yourself and the sire bond… I- I don't think I'm going to be able to control what comes down it."
The corner of Dracula's lips curled just barely in response, eyes darkening at the suggestion – but he remained rooted to the spot, even as she hung up the call and switched off her phone. The device was then dropped unceremoniously to the carpeted floor with a soft thud.
The pair of them didn't utter a word for nearly a full minute as they just stared at one another – processing the change, savoring the delicious anticipation.
"How are you feeling?" he asked her, jarring her a little.
"You're kidding me, right?" That earned a quiet rumble of a chuckle from him. "I'd ask if you can feel it too, but I know you can… and I'm not just referring to the outward indicators. I… I can sense it in you… smell it even."
It was true. Something had changed about his scent. There was a new, almost spicy quality to it. She was well acquainted with marking scents – a hallmark of not only mated werewolves, but newly blood-bound vampires as well – a unique perfume of pheromones and heat. Until today, she had never really given the phenomenon much credence.
But now…
Now there was nothing she wanted more in the world than to have that scent all over her, to be saturated in it, in him.
"I was referring to your blood-rage," he clarified, voice still terribly low, strained even; as if he was struggling to keep himself leashed. "I don't sense any otherness in you like before – only cohesion. Just… you."
"I can't seem to find it anywhere," she admitted.
"And you've done a thorough sweep?" he asked, though she could tell by the look in his eyes that he already knew. He was stalling. But why?
The release of her hand had set in motion something irreversible and damn near consuming in them both – something that teetered on the fringes of a kind of madness. She knew from the distant hum of his thoughts that he could smell her wanting in the air, that every fiber in his being longed to answer the call of her body, of her soul – so why hadn't he moved yet?
She watched in fascination as his expression slowly melted into something borderline vicious the longer they stood there, an almost possessed look that sent her trembling just a little, as if some unconscious part of her was finally realizing what beast she had roused in him. Vlad had always been the very model of self-control, of discipline. But in that moment, he seemed on the very edge of his limits… and yet, he continued to hold himself there, strained, but unwavering. It only served to intensify her arousal.
"My clothes are still on," she noted with as much mischievousness as she could muster.
His countenance, that almost visible hold he had on himself, splintered a fraction. His eyes flitted down her body as if to verify her claim before returning to her face. He made a small grunt in acknowledgement, but little else.
"I'm surprised you haven't thrown me over the nearest piece of furniture."
Some part of her hoped the teasing would get him to move, to react, to instigate, but he remained exactly where he was, a pillar of restraint – even if her suggestion lit up his brain like a Christmas tree, sending his eyes glowing.
"I'm surprising myself right now," he admitted. "Every inch of me is itching to mount you like some kind of beast."
She moaned a little at that, a faint tremor pulsating through her cunt at the image. She couldn't remember the last time she had been so wet – and he hadn't even touched her.
"So why haven't you?"
Frankie watched as he took a deep, steadying breath once, twice – his body was visibly taut like a bowstring, his fingers slowly flexing and curling repeatedly at his sides, the only true outward indication of his struggle.
"I have waited nearly four hundred years to have you," he said, his voice barely a whisper, an almost imperceptible quiver of emotion, of anticipation in the words. "I am determined to savor this."
She chuckled in spite of the hardened edge in his voice and she managed to take that single step toward him, minimizing the distance. They were barely an inch apart now and she could feel the power radiating from him in waves. His scent, his strength – it washed over her like a flood, seeping into her skin, her hair. She sighed as she tilted her head back to fully hold his gaze, eyes slitted, the tip of her tongue moistening her lips in anticipation.
"Do you consent?" he breathed, his voice so guttural, she could feel the rumble of it in her bones.
"Consent to what?" she asked coyly, unconsciously swaying toward him, unable to resist his gravitational pull.
"To letting me having my way with you."
That light, flittering laugh of hers was going to make him mental.
"Are you seriously asking me that right now?"
"If we're going to proceed, I need to hear you say it."
The look in Frankie's eyes had a scheming edge to it and he watched as she rested a hand over his chest – first contact. The light touch sent a tingling sensation to ripple through him. She watched her hand as it rose and fell against his chest when he took another breath in an attempt to steady himself, but then she slowly started to smooth her palm down his front. His expression cracked a little more, cock twitching in reply – a shameless call for more of her touch.
"Well, that depends," she mused, a sensuous husk to her voice. "What do you want to do to me?"
"Francesca…" he warned.
Oh, he was so close to breaking, she was certain he would snap at any given moment. In truth, she wanted him to. She wanted him unbridled, uninhibited… unhinged. She knew he knew this, was certain of it, but the king in him refused to yield. He would not lose control. He would not lose control…
And then he felt her take his hand in hers.
"You're mine now," she whispered, resting his palm over her heart. "And I am yours, and that's all that matters."
She brushed her lips tantalizingly against his own.
The kisses that proceeded were mostly tongue, and while they were deep and hungry, he managed to cling to what little restraint he had left, forcing himself to maintain a slow, savoring pace in spite of the temptation she presented. He uttered her name in tones that almost tasted like a plea for mercy – or perhaps she had imagined that. No matter. She could continue this unspoken game of "who will cave first" a little longer, but she would get him to break sooner or later. She was determined.
Her nimble fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt and she paused to breathe against his lips, "Yes?"
A question, returning his earlier request for consent.
He nodded and she made quick work of the garment. Before she could push it off his arms, he had managed to ground out the same query, his fingers teasing over the bottom of her blouse. When she nodded with the faintest hint of a grin, he lifted it up and over her head before returning to her mouth, knowing that if he dared to look at what she wore underneath, he'd get distracted.
Francesca's palms were smoothing over his front and sides hungrily, drinking in every hard and exquisitely sculpted muscle with a breathless delight. Her head lowered on instinct, kisses moving to his neck, earning a rough grip on her hair at the base of her skull. And then she brought her eager lips to his chest. Her tongue ran over the lion brand as she kissed it once, twice, before traveling down to the nipple just beneath it. The sound of him groaning sent a wave of goosebumps crawling over every inch of her flesh and her belly clenched almost painfully.
She loved the sound of his pleasure – almost more than anything in the world. She caught the erect nub of flesh between her teeth, worrying it lightly as her eyes looked up at him. His irises were burning with that blue fire she had come to adore and Frankie basked in the glow of his heated stare.
Her fingers were soon fiddling with the buckle of his belt.
"Yes?" she asked again before boldly palming his aching length with her other hand as if it strengthened some unspoken argument. He shuddered visibly, biting back another moan as his grip on the roots of her hair tightened before growling a commanding yes. The brief moment of pain made her skin crawl.
She unfastened the leather from his hips and with a strong yank, freed him of it.
"So eager, dragă," he ground out, amusement in that smoky, gravelly tone of his.
"I want you to fuck me," she confessed, all her grand plans to get him to break first going out the window as she keened, suddenly desperate to have him inside of her. A little voice in the back of her head chided her for her own neediness, but she couldn't be bothered to care. The longer she stood there, the more she ached. "I need you to fuck me," she continued. "I need it hard, and I need it now."
"We have time," he assured her soothingly, relaxing his hold and removing his fingers from her hair so he could grab her wrist before she could finish unzipping his fly. He made a point of halting her progress, trying to get her to slow down, but her eagerness persisted.
So he increased the firmness of his grip, taking both of her wrists in his hands as he pressed his brow to hers, trying to bring her back down a little as he whispered encouragingly for her to pause, to breathe with him.
She obeyed, albeit reluctantly and with a little whine of protest. Francesca was not accustomed to the feelings and sensations now running hot through her blood. She had experienced desire before, a craving for flesh and indulgence – but nothing even remotely akin to this. She couldn't recall a time she had felt more desperate – for pleasure, for touch, for release, for a complete and total possession. And so when his will tenderly washed over her, soothing her wanting just enough to take the edge off, her breath came out in a quiver.
"We have time," he repeated gently, bringing one of her hands to his mouth and he pressed a kiss to her palm.
"Not enough," she whimpered. "Not nearly enough. I should have insisted on more… four days is nothing…" Not with what was burning through her, and not with him insisting on this painstaking pace!
Dracula tenderly hushed her, a finger pressed lightly over her lips. The slight curve at the corner of his mouth suggested a part of him was enjoying driving her to madness and she grunted her frustration, earning a chuckle that time. His gaze was full of amusement, sympathy… and adoration.
"That agitation you're feeling right now, the way every inch of you is screaming for possession – that's the bonding."
"I figured as much."
He took another deep breath to calm his own fraying nerves, but then he groaned low at the scent he caught and the tips of his fangs started to peek through from behind his lips.
"I can almost hear your cunt weeping for me," he growled. "You're soaked, aren't you?"
As if to prove his point, he caressed his fingers down her neck, between her breasts, only to stop at her lower abdomen – a slow sweep that sent that carnal hunger to coil and tighten painfully in her sex, wringing more moisture out of her. His name stuttered from her lips like a plea for mercy.
"I wasn't exaggerating earlier when I said I needed to have my way with you."
Frankie's breasts suddenly felt heavy, sensitive nipples furling against the material of her bra.
Too many. She was wearing too many clothes.
"So what are you waiting for?" she asked. "Christmas?"
He snorted a little, the corner of his lips twitching before he replied, expression melting into a sudden soberness. "I haven't had sex in almost forty years, and if we rush into this like a couple of adolescents, I won't last." A rare admission of weakness. "I told you… I want to savor you. I want to savor this," and with sweeping palms, he traced her naked sides before running teasing thumbs over the front of her bra, as if he had sensed her straining nipples behind the padding.
But he never made a move to free her from the garment.
Instead, his hands moved back to her waist where he opened her pants and then very slowly began to kneel in front of her.
"I have waited so long for you. I fully intend to relish every…" he placed a kiss to her navel and she felt herself starting to leak. "…single…" He pulled the zipper of her fly the rest of the way down with a teasing meticulousness, even having the audacity to hold her gaze as he did so. Something in her pelvis unspooled further at the sight. "…second," he finished. And then his fingers dug into the waist of her trousers and he carefully pulled them over her hips and down her legs, making a point to keep her underthings intact.
Which proved to be unexpectedly rewarding as he realized what exactly she had on underneath her unassuming clothes.
The black lace.
The skimpy panties.
The garter belt holding up a pair of thigh-high stockings.
He looked up from his position on his knees as the realization set in.
"You… Did you plan for this?"
Francesca managed a slight, mischievous smirk.
"Maybe," she sang.
He rose back to his feet slowly, towering over her as his eyes swept from head to toe appreciatively, taking in the full ensemble.
All that black against her pale flesh.
She looked like some kind of confection, a dark, hedonistic fantasy made flesh. It made his mouth water, and suddenly she was the one in control again.
"I wasn't planning on the blood-binding," Frankie admitted, "but when I came over earlier this morning… well, you kept denying every offer I made to repay your generosity and patience with me, and I figured if I made the temptation too much for you to resist that I could somehow bend you to my will…" and she leaned forward a little, curling a daring finger around the waistband of his underwear, his trousers still open. "I've wanted to wrap my lips around that legendary cock of yours for months. Ever since that shower we shared at the Signore's… Do you remember?"
She very gently took that covered bulge in her hand, massaging it, and a low groan of approval was the only answer he could manage.
"I was willing to satisfy myself with that at the very least… but now that we are bound, what I really want is you inside of me," and to strengthen her argument, she started to slip her fingers behind the waistband of his boxers so she could ease him out into the open air. He stopped her before she could gain too much ground. She was about to protest when she noted the tangible shift in his expression. The whites of his eyes had started to go black, irises burning like two cold blue stars in the night. There was something otherworldly about him suddenly – bestial, primal… and perhaps even just a little frightening.
"Not before I taste you first," he insisted and then with a sharp motion of his head, he hissed, "Get on the bed."
"Taste me later. I can guarantee I'm wet enough…" she husked, licking his breathless lips, but he pulled his head away from her tempting offer, face stern.
"I made you a promise last year, and I fully intend to keep it," he ground out. "Now do as I say," and with his hand still wound around her wrist, he turned her in the direction of the bed and lightly pushed her toward it, but not before bringing his hand down on her ass for her cheeky impertinence.
Francesca obeyed with an impish grin, backing away from him slowly as he shed himself of the rest of his clothes. She crawled onto the mattress, her gaze fixed on his newly freed length as she leaned back on her elbows before dramatically spreading herself wide for him – a feast for the eyes. The parting of her thighs made the scent of her arousal all the more potent and his knees nearly buckled from the anticipation.
He had waited so long for this… too fucking long.
Dracula was at the bed in the blink of an eye, crawling over her body as his lips collided with hers in a hungry, appreciative kiss. To her credit, she didn't try to grab at him. Instead, she contented herself with caressing his face once before smoothing her palm around to his nape where the new binding mark resided. With a gentle nudge of a hand at the back of his head and another on his arm, she brought him down to rest his body in the cradle of her hips.
Having him there felt like home, the most natural thing in the world. The weight of him above was everything it should have been and she instinctively clamped around him with bent knees, holding him to her.
Vlad's hands and lips swept over her in a desire that only continued to ascend to more dizzying heights. His fingers eventually dipped behind her back as it arched, his tongue running along the length of her throat. He smoothly unfastened the hooks of her bra before peeling the garment away, tossing it aside.
God almighty, he loved her breasts – unblemished, soft, the perfect handfuls. Her nipples were tight furls, straining for him, calling for the attention of his tongue and he couldn't resist the temptation any longer, didn't even try. His eyes were fully dark as he bent down to hotly suck one of the peaks into his mouth. Francesca's head fell back at the sensation, the sound that came out of her testing his resolve. But he wouldn't be swayed from his course. He wanted to feast on her uninhibited and feast he would; so he suckled her again, earning that same noise – a strangled whimper.
A flick of tongue. The scrape of teeth.
His mouth closed around her repeatedly as his hand worked her other breast, until he felt the bite of her nails in his skin.
"Vlad."
A plea.
He answered by cupping both mounds, his thumbs rolling over the furled tips once, twice, thrice and with a light pinch, his mouth returned to slant over hers hungrily. She kissed him back just as deeply, gasping when he bent again to use that mouth on her breasts, working one of those sensitive nipples between his teeth. She elicited a sharp hiss of pleasure and then cried out softly when his fingers rolled and twisted the other tip with just the right amount of firmness. In no time, he was soon nothing but nips and tugs and teasing – her chest mottled with his marks.
"Vlad, please…"
"Begging already?" he teased her, earning a vicious look that made him laugh into the softness of her skin. He smoothed his hands down her ribs, thumbs dipping into the hollow of her waist and then flaring along her hips.
"Don't be a prick."
"I'm not," he crooned with a purely male smile as his mouth descended slowly, raking his tongue along the length of her abdomen, peppering the occasional kiss here, a light nibble there. "I'm just surprised. I thought you'd hold out longer." Dracula pressed his open mouth to her upper thigh before biting her hard enough to leave a mark but not break the skin.
That earned him another delightful noise.
Oh, he could spend hours exploring just that alone, coaxing the wide range of whimpers and moans and cries from her.
Later.
He unfastened her hose from the garter belt and slowly smoothed them down her legs, kissing the newly exposed flesh as he went, one limb at a time.
"I can almost taste you from here, iubito," he rumbled darkly, finishing off the last stocking with a kiss to her instep and then a trail of countless more back up the length of her leg.
"I am going to get even with you for all this teasing," she promised him through gritted teeth. "Do you hear me, Dracula? Your ass is mine." A wicked smile curled his lips as he pressed another open-mouthed kiss to her navel, purposefully making a point to avoid that juncture between her thighs, much to her infinite annoyance.
"I'm looking forward to it," he purred. He then very lightly traced the back of a finger against the seam of her sex. She was soaked through and his grin turned appreciative. "But I think you've earned a tongue-lashing first." He brought the tip of his nose to that damp apex and inhaled deep, dragging the scent of her down his throat and into his lungs where he held it there, relishing.
"Oh no. Not a tongue-lashing! Anything but that! Though I wonder if it'll happen sometime today or maybe you'll continue to be cruel and make me wait some more," she said mockingly, not even bothering to hide her impatience now. He looked up at her briefly to find she was watching him and grinned viciously at her. Good. He enjoyed having an audience.
"For that, I think I'll have you beg for me again," he replied, curling his fingers around the garter belt and the waist of her panties and he held them there, waiting.
Francesca sent him a defiant glare.
He loved her for it.
"You want me to beg, chéri? Give me a reason to."
Accepting her challenge, he pressed a feather-soft kiss to her still covered sex and he felt her quiver beneath his lips. She groaned. And then his tongue ran along the length of her sopping wet gusset, pressing just hard enough to where he could feel the tip of her clitoris jutting out to scrape against the flat of his tongue and her vocal response took on a higher pitch.
"Stop stalling."
"So demanding," he mused, and then he finally began to tug the last remnants of her modesty over her hips and down her legs.
"You're cruel."
"You don't know the meaning of that word," and he pressed a soft, almost reverent kiss to that space between her hips, just over her pubic bone. "But don't worry… I'll teach it to you before the week is out."
"Vlad…"
He pressed another kiss, this time with a bit of tongue, to the place where her thigh met her hip – so close, and yet…
"Vladislaus, please…"
"Would you like me to taste you, dragă?"
The rush of his breath on her exposed quim made her whole body quake in anticipation. Even the muscles of her sex visibly trembled. He placed a chaste kiss to those hairless lips, the barest caress, before teasing her just a little more with the tip of his finger, tracing the soft mound that he had been dreaming of for what felt like his entire life.
"Vladislaus, you are an insufferable, sadistic…"
He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at her little tirade as she visibly struggled to keep herself still instead of rising to meet his face.
But he could be merciful. Besides, they had both waited long enough.
Working himself fully between her thighs, he slid his arms up beneath her thighs so they partly rested on his shoulders and then with one long drag, he brought his tongue out, striping her from the clean and puckered star of her anus fully up, digging deep into her slit before stopping at her clit, gathering up every trace of moisture he could get as he went. Her entire body rose with his mouth and the moan that left her, the taste of her, had his eyes rolling into the back of his head before he closed them.
He had known in his gut that she would taste good, but this… this wasn't honey. It wasn't even ambrosia. Licking her was like drinking from the well of a goddess. Another hungry, velvet drag of his tongue earned a second broken cry as he took her hands in his just as her body began undulating.
And then he was working her with his mouth in a way she hadn't dreamed possible – as if he had done it before, as if he already knew every inch and nook and cranny of her.
He devoured her in long laves and slow thrusts, gradually making his way up to give her clit some more consistent attention. He flicked the sensitive nub of her clitoris lightly a few times, lapping at it until her toes curled and her breathing grew deep and ragged. Then he wrapped his lips around the small little pearl and sucked. Once. Twice. A third time, pulling it gently deeper into his mouth where he rubbed against it with the tip of his tongue.
She shattered quickly, coming hard as her body folded up and into itself before she collapsed fully back on the bed, spine bowed and head thrown back.
His lips curled into a self-satisfied smile. He still had it.
Vladislaus looked up at her through dark lashes, watching as she rode the waves, his face still buried between her quivering thighs, drenched and slick, but he didn't stop. He had barely even begun. He continued, dragging her further down into the depths of sensations that felt almost otherworldly to her. Dracula released her hands once her first orgasm had subsided but only to adjust their position, pulling her hips up a little more and holding her once he had angled her better so he could feast uninhibited.
Closer.
Always needing to be closer.
She sank beneath him, arms sliding up to rest above her head in surrender – do with me what you will – and he took that unspoken invitation to heart.
He never really gave her clit a chance to recover, sucking and licking it through that brief, sensitive period, coaching her through the delicious pain before his long fingers joined his mouth at her folds, teasing, spreading. They forged a slow circle before one digit pressed within her deeply and her back arched, hand clutching onto a fistful of his hair. Her engorged channel tightened around him instinctively – a wonderfully snug fit – and somewhere in the haze of her pleasure, she registered the gratifying sound of him swearing in his native tongue, the timbre of his profanity vibrating against her cunt.
Eventually, he managed to work two fingers inside of her, his mouth still on her clit, his other hand taking the root of that nub just above where his lips were and pinching lightly between two fingers, rubbing the thin, hidden shaft with expertise and Francesca went momentarily blind. She curled a leg around his head, her foot on his back as her other hand reached down to join its sister, fingers threading through his hair, gripping, tugging, holding on for dear life.
Without even meaning to, her hips started to move to meet every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. She was only vaguely aware of the fact that she was being expertly fingered and sucked by the King of the Undying himself and in any normal situation that would have been enough to thrill her. But she couldn't think straight. All she knew was that what he was doing to her felt impossibly good, another orgasm already starting to crest inside of her, coiling, tightening.
She moaned when he hooked those two fingers in her just right, his mouth still working magic.
Swearing, Frankie forced herself to release his head, instead seeking purchase by gripping the linens beneath her as each breath became more labored and her nails grew into talons. A third finger was inserted and then he was pumping faster, harder, his tongue curling and rolling against her swollen bud.
Vlad felt her shiver, her insides twitching with something light and edge-setting, but not enough… not nearly enough. He wanted her undone, in pieces. With sudden vigor, he quickened his pace, hitting that spot in her with exactness over and over and over as he enveloped that little bundle of nerves fully with his mouth, sucking it, dragging his teeth gently against the erect little thing and then pounding it with his tongue.
Then he felt it – the contracting of her inner walls around his fingers, followed by the telltale tremor of another full-body orgasm, but stronger than the last one, deeper.
It tore mercilessly through her, as if her soul had been violently ripped from her body. She gushed hotly around his fingers, a jet of clear liquid spurting against his mouth before running down his chin, the rest leaving his hand and forearm soaked in her slippery essence. The sounds she made nearly undid him, but still, he continued to work her, watching her with unbreakable concentration as she rode the wave he had built, that he was ramping up all over again, extending it, drawing it out. He was greedy. He wanted more.
It took Vlad less than a minute to get Frankie to come for him a third time, her fangs fully out as her whole body convulsed and trembled, the linens beneath her sodden as he got her to squirt for him again on a scream.
Unable to resist the temptation, he sank his fangs into the flesh of her inner thigh, drinking deep as he finally let her come back down.
Nothing would ever compare to the taste of her. Nothing.
But he was nowhere near done with her yet.
Francesca was lost in a daze of mind-numbing, weightless bliss as Dracula eventually brought himself up to his knees on the bed, still situated between her open legs, thighs still quivering from the aftershocks. She was only half aware of his strong grip on her waist as he lifted her ass to rest on his lap, the tip of him teasing her swollen and sensitive opening for a minute or so as he used his wet hand to lube the rest of his length up.
She only really returned to the present when she felt the press of his cockhead at her entrance, and then the slow, shallow thrusts as he gradually worked his way in. After coming three times, her channel was left more engorged than normal, which left them both groaning as he made that snug, velvet glide inside. Frankie, still lying back, couldn't bring herself to do much else outside of studying his face as he slowly seated himself fully within her.
His irises were still burning that gorgeous, electric blue, the whites of his eyes completely black like a demon's. Every ounce of his attention was honed in on the sight of her sex swallowing him whole.
Once at the hilt, he held there for several long seconds, whether to calm himself down and savor the sensation of finally being inside her or to give her a moment to adjust, she had no idea.
"You all right?" he managed to ask after a beat. She could only conjure up a faint nod.
He waited a moment more before pressing his palm down against her pelvis, and then he started to slide out about halfway. When he pushed back in, his hand was still bearing down against her lower abdomen and she felt as much as witnessed his entire body shuddering.
He had wanted to feel himself inside of her, not just see it. The sight of it was so erotic, a faint tremor made its way through her sheath in reply. He must have felt that too, because his eyes met hers and held as he gyrated his hips again – churning and grinding a little before pulling out halfway and then thrusting back in.
She moaned, eyes rolling back, spine curling involuntarily – overwhelmed by his girth, the tight fit, the friction. He rubbed her thighs, a soothing, reassuring sensation. And then another pull and push, pull and push, like the rolling tide of the ocean. His cock inside of her was pure decadence. Frankie wasn't sure if it was the blood-binding that made him feel so wonderful or if it was the long-awaited release of the sexual tension between them, but in that moment she felt like she was hosting a deity inside of her. Everything about him felt impossibly good – so much so that for just a moment, she thought she might actually cry.
But even when the tears of relief and insurmountable pleasure started to prick at her eyes, she fought them, somehow finding the strength, the will to participate. Planting her feet firmly on the bed on either side of him, she began to roll her hips, meeting his languid thrusts, even as he continued to hold her waist in both hands, bringing her up and down on his shaft.
The sight of her erotic dance left his already tight balls twitching.
"You feel so good," he said, an almost strangled noise that was rough and grated with pleasure. "So fucking good."
"Really? I don't feel anything," she said teasingly. His look shifted immediately and she almost laughed at the outrage in his expression, but then he snapped his hips hard and she felt the tip of him deep within kissing her cervix. She moaned and a dark, purely male smirk curled his lips as he leaned forward and planted his fists on either side of her head.
"Did you feel that, dragă?"
Frankie opened her mouth to retort, but he did it again, another sharp, deep thrust that silenced her rebel tongue, leaving nothing but moaning coming from her lips. He stared defiantly into her eyes as he snapped his hips again and again and again, as if it strengthened his case, expression daring her to critique him again, even if mockingly. The woman quickly ceded.
"That's what I thought…" he mused.
Eventually, he took to the keeling position again, lifting her up with him so she could sit on his lap, their bodies still joined. With ease, he adjusted the position a little more, an arm curled under one of her legs while his other held her in place with a firm grip on her ass.
Dracula allowed her to help in setting the pace as their mouths met in a kiss that was more tongue than lips. It was an unexpected gesture on his part – that sharing of the control – but she didn't have long to dwell on the significance of it. With each rock of her hips, he was hitting his mark inside of her, even as her already abused clit grinded and rubbed against his pubic bone. And with yet another orgasm building, it eventually dawned on Frankie that the man had yet to come himself.
She dug her nails into the flesh of his back as she felt herself near the crest, her face buried in his neck. She was close, but so was he – she could sense it in that new bond between them. And yet, he continued to keep himself on that infernal leash.
"Come with me," she panted into his skin.
When he didn't reply, she pushed her hand against his chest, forcing him down onto his back beneath her, changing the angle, but the gyration of her hips never ceased.
"I can feel you holding back," she accused him, maintaining his gaze with utter resolve. "Don't deny me, Vladislaus… I want to hear you, see you, feel you…" and to punctuate her point, she clenched her inner muscles around his length on that next slide down and he groaned at the added tightness of her around him.
She kissed him once before sitting up fully, riding him with sudden fervor. His eyes fixed on her – from her breathless mouth to the way her breasts bounced as she moved… and then those wicked fingers of hers slipped between her legs to rub her swollen nub and he couldn't take it anymore.
It was too much.
He felt her come around him and about died from the sensation of her greedy cunt pulling him in deeper, those slick muscles contracting. But it was the sound of her crying out his name, those beautiful whispered screams that inspired him to chase his own end. And when he finally came, it was a wounded cry and violent trembling in his gut as he spent everything inside of her. And she took all of it, all of him – forty years of abstinence and nearly four-centuries of wanting her, of yearning for this moment.
She had hunched over during her own release so they were now face to face as he came undone. The vulnerability in his expression as he rode the wave beneath her made her heart crack.
As Dracula panted for air, she showered his neck in kisses, soft caresses that soothed him as he very slowly came back down. He remained inside of her, the sticky mess of them still joined something he never wanted to give up, but the wave of relief and subsequent exhaustion that overcame him then had his eyes fluttering momentarily shut. Frankie very delicately lifted her hips upward, sliding him out to land with a bit of wet slap on his lower abdomen.
He half expected her to give way to the sway of the morning sun outside their bedroom walls, to curl up at his side and surrender to sleep, but she never did. She continued to gently shower him with soft kisses and keening caresses. Every time he'd get close to succumbing to unconsciousness, a little nick of pain would rouse him – a scratch of her nail here, a prick of fang there – as if she was willing to let him rest for a moment, but not to the point of actually sleeping.
He didn't have it in him to argue, though the devil knew how spent he was.
But he was about to learn just how wicked his new bride could be.
Francesca had gradually made her way down the length of Vlad's body, only to settle herself between his legs, her face now level with his cock. It lay predominately flaccid on his belly by that point, still impressive regardless, and glistening with her arousal and his pearlescent ejaculate. She could still feel the ache of him inside of her, now hollowed out and empty. She wanted more… needed it.
He'd had his chance to have his own way.
Now it was her turn.
With a bold tongue, she licked up the underside of his cock, then along one of the sides before pulling the length of him fully into her mouth on a sigh.
Dracula groaned at the sensation, immediately reaching for her head, but he made no effort to stop her – only pushed her hair out of her face so he could see her eyes as she took him, definitely more awake now.
He watched with rapt attention as she licked and sucked him clean, her irises burning violet as she did so. She met his gaze head on as she dragged her tongue along his full length once again, making a point to hold him upright so he could watch, a devious glint in her eyes. Her fingers held the base of his now half-erect cock, her impish grin never faltering, even as her tongue darted out to tease the slit in his tip.
Dracula dragged in a shaky breath, trying to keep himself in check. He swallowed hard as she gripped his shaft more resolutely, pulling him into her hold and rubbing him back down repeatedly. His cock started to pulsate as her tongue swirled fully around the head before digging at the tight web of flesh on the underside where glans met shaft. That sudden, pinpointed attention on his frenulum made his entire pelvis clench and he groaned as she began to gently knead the spot – first with her tongue, and then lightly with a wet thumb.
Saliva dribbled down a throbbing vein and before it could reach his root, she licked him up with eagerness, and then finally took him whole into her mouth again, as far as she could; pumping the base of him with one hand, the other carefully massaging his balls.
The involuntary and almost wounded sort of sound that escaped him was everything to her. But the noise that followed when she abandoned his cock for a moment to dip her tongue beneath his scrotum so she could massage and lick his perineum nearly had her in stitches. The string of expletives hissed in his mother-tongue as he fought to keep his hips under control, those long fingers of his fisting her hair so he could hold onto her head a she worked him – it inspired her into further depravity.
Soon, he could feel the wet heat of her tongue running over the puckered hole of his anus, and Vladislaus stopped breathing entirely. And then she was prodding at it, still stroking his cock in her hand, giving everything even as he begged her for more with a growly "fuck."
Somewhere in the midst of it all, shortly after her mouth returned to his aching length to lap up the precum that had started to leak from his tip, Frankie took a brief moment to glance up from her work to relish in the absolute control she had over him.
This was power – his cock between her teeth, every sensation and ounce of pleasure he felt her gift to him.
His moans were hers.
His renewed hardness – all hers.
All of him.
Everything.
Every inch of flesh and muscle, every drop of semen, every ounce of blood – hers and hers alone.
Mine, crooned that familiar voice in her head. It made her smile.
She had the King of the Undying between her lips and it made her feel powerful.
But there was only one other thing that could take that feeling to the next level.
He had rendered her entirely helpless under the ministrations of his mouth and talented fingers. She was ready to give him a proper taste of his own medicine.
Giving her numbing lips a break, Frankie stopped sucking him off long enough to bring her index finger into her mouth. She ceremoniously hollowed out her cheeks before sliding the digit back out with just the right amount of drama. Vlad watched the trail of saliva stringing from her tongue to that slender finger as she held it in the air for him to see.
"I promised I would get even with you," she reminded him.
She paused to see if he'd followed her train of thought. When she felt more than saw that he had, she proceeded and he made no effort to stop her, his abdomen already flexing in anticipation as he opened his legs a bit more in invitation.
Francesca took that slick digit and ran the tip along that sensitive stretch of skin beneath the underside of his balls she had been tasting earlier, massaging it before moving further down to caress the clean, flesh colored star of his anus. His hitch of breath had her nibbling her bottom lip to keep from smiling.
"And you should know, your majesty," she husked, lightly fingering that tight rear entrance of his, "I, too, always keep my promises. Which means your ass is mine."
Her tongue lapped at the puckered star between his cheeks for a bit more to make sure it was nice and lubricated before then gently nudging the tip of her slick finger inside, holding it there at the first knuckle. The barely audible high-pitched gasp that escaped him made her skin crawl.
"I hope you know that turnabout is fair play, dragă," he groaned with a dark promise in his eyes.
"It fucking better be, your majesty."
He chuckled, the sound more of a heavy rumble in his chest.
"Sounds like I need to clean out that filthy mouth of yours."
"Mmmm, please do," she purred, dipping her mouth back down on his cock until the tip of him hit the back of her throat. She continued to work her finger deeper into his ass as she swallowed around his length, hollowing out her cheeks again and sighing audibly so the vibrations of sound would reverberate through him. Her tongue nearly undid him on the pull back up.
"Oh, I cannot wait to fuck that little mouth of yours later," he moaned, struggling to keep his hips still as she bobbed her head up and down, sucking hard.
In response, he felt the pressure of her finger at his ass again as it pushed the rest of the way into his rectum, finally stopping at the final knuckle, reaching the hilt. She released his cock from her mouth with a pop before hovering her slightly swollen lips over his base, looking up at him.
"You ready?" she asked breathlessly, placing a wet kiss on his balls.
He could only nod.
All attention on his cock ceased as he felt her finger curl inside of him in a "come hither" motion. With the kind of skill he never could have prepared himself for, the pad of her finger met its mark on the first try – his prostate – and the sensation that rippled through him was nearly enough to kick-start his silent heart. Lightly grabbing hold of the head of his cock, she squeezed just hard enough to keep him from coming too soon, earning a string of profanity followed quickly with praise from the man in his native tongue.
Once she was sure he was in no danger of finishing before she could really get started, she proceeded to probe and massage that secret and criminally underutilized pleasure spot of his with a deftness that threatened to shatter him. His fingers, which were still tangled in her hair, loosened their grip as his thumb sought out her mouth and she sucked the digit between her lips, lapping at it as she continued to work him.
A familiar but long-forgotten pressure began to build in his pelvis, tightening, coiling, even as his insides fluttered and contracted involuntarily from the stimulation. His cock remained stiff and at full attention, leaking profusely, but that's not where the pressure was. In fact, she hadn't really touched that thick organ at all since her finger had started its massage. No caressing or licking or sucking – outside of the occasional squeeze to keep him from tumbling over the edge.
All he could feel was that digit – and then it was two – massaging that hidden bundle of nerves and the delicious tension growing behind his pubic bone as consequence.
She worked him up slowly, eyes fixed, taking in every nuanced expression, every inflection of his voice as he groaned and breathed deep until his skull started to tingle – a warm, full feeling spreading out in his pelvis. Then it intensified further and further still – a pressure from some deeply seated place mounting, always mounting.
When his body began to tremble a little, she stopped suddenly, her fingers going still as she held the crown of his dick firmly in her hand, denying him his release yet again.
Dracula, who had already begun to chase the pending orgasm before him, actually grunted his frustration as he lifted his head a little to look incredulously down at her.
"Wha–"
"It's your turn, mon chéri," she purred, a teasing lilt to her voice as she nipped the thumb she had been sucking on. "Beg."
"Francesca," he chastised, ready to berate her, but then she wiggled those fingers again while abruptly digging the tip of her tongue against his frenulum with a twinkle in her eyes as she pulled yet another moan from him. The noise was quickly followed by an oath.
"Come now, mon chatounet… I know you have it in you. All men do," and that delicious stimulation increased, but not quite at the speed or pressure he needed to finish – she was teasing him now, holding him suspended on the edge.
Perhaps she knew the meaning of the word cruel after all.
The tip of her tongue lightly traced the pulsating vein running along the underside of his cock again and his entire lower abdomen contracted visibly, sharp valleys deepening between each muscle.
"Woman…"
"Say please," and she kissed the crown of his shaft, a scant caress of lips that sent a violent shiver through him. "'Please let me come, Francesca, I need it…'"
He laughed in spite of himself.
"Is it always going to be like this with you?"
"We both know you love it," she said with a meaningful look and he watched as she oh-so-lightly scraped her teeth up and down his length, those two fingers in his ass still moving at an infuriating pace. "Don't you want to come, Dracula?"
"Yes."
It was nearly a growl.
"Then ask nicely… and I just might let you," and then she reunited her mouth fully with his cock, warming it back up again with her tongue and the suck of her lips. She could almost taste the tension in his skin, could see it in the way his lower body had tightened, flesh pulled taut over nearly every muscle in his body.
"You're just asking for punishment now, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hand resting on her head as she sucked him off.
Francesca grinned darkly like the fiend she was, her fingers moving with the gusto he had been after and his breath came out in a sudden, short gasp, an exclamation of relief.
"Yes… Harder. Faster… Yes! There's my good girl... Yes, right… right there… right there… fuuuck…"
She worked him as hard and as mercilessly as he had worked her, and not thirty seconds later, she had him coming with the masterful curl and press of her index and middle fingers.
The orgasm was sudden and heavy, shredding him to pieces, moving through every inch of his body. It was deeper than what he was used to, far more intense… and what was more, it wouldn't fucking stop. He came so hard, it was as if she had short-circuited his brain, his body totally forgetting how to ejaculate altogether. His cock was visibly trembling, balls tight and raised up, but otherwise the head of his prick was entirely dry while the rest of him shivered.
He felt it in his pelvis, his gut… even all the way up into his brain – the delicious tingles of a pleasure seemingly without end – wave after wave of orgasm in nearly every single part of his body except his cock.
At some point she finally removed her fingers from his quivering ass, but he was still riding the waves and still rock hard between the hips. So without uttering a word, she rose up onto her knees and turned, lifting his twitching erection in one hand with her back to his face – and then she seated herself. He nearly came again from the change in stimulation, his balls painfully tight as he filled her, a broken howl echoing off the walls of the bedroom. But then she started to move and he groaned long and low, watching helplessly as her ass came down on him over and over and over. The slick tightness of her, the wet slap of her bouncing derrière on his hips, not to mention that view – it had him chasing release all over again.
Somehow, amidst the high, he had managed to sit up with her still riding him.
He held onto her for dear life for a few seconds as if to steady himself before abruptly spreading his legs so he could roll them over, pushing her face down into the bed beneath him. He lifted her hands over her head with one hand, his other at the back of her neck, and with a brute strength that made her hotter than she could have anticipated, he pinned her down beneath him before slamming viciously home into her welcoming sheath. They both moaned at the slick joining of their bodies, the abrupt change in angle and position, the rhythmic smack of skin meeting skin.
He caught her shoulder in his teeth, growling.
"You…" Thrust. "Are…" Another, just a little harder for emphasis. "Incredible."
All she could do was grip the linens above her head, smiling like an idiot even as she whimpered in reply, her toes curling.
He felt so good. How was it possible for any one man to feel this good?
As if he had heard her thought, Dracula released her hands to bend one of her knees up closer to her chest, adjusting the angle further still. On the next thrust in, he buried himself so deep, she was certain he was touching parts of her no one else ever had before. She swore, the sound barely muffled in the sheets, but then he reached around so he could rub her clit and she screamed, sobbed.
The friction of his cock inside of her, the weight of his body at her back, the hard and fast movement of his fingers, the way his pelvis repeatedly slapped against her ass – it was too much.
His hand smacked down on the headboard of the bed before gripping it, digging his knees into the mattress for better leverage as he pounded into her with sudden fervor.
"Don't stop… don't… don't…" she panted, but then her pleading broke out into a strangled, high-pitched cry as her entire body undulated beneath him, spine arching, hips moving to meet him.
Stars.
She saw nothing but stars and only knew the pleasure of release, but this was different. This was deeper than the others before, so much so that she could feel the involuntary shakes of his body as he finished just seconds later, the wet squelch of their spasming flesh still joined nearly sending her over the edge again.
Vladislaus sounded like he had been gutted behind her, the low cry reverberating in her skin until she could feel it in her bones.
The waves kept going and going until finally, mercifully, everything gradually sputtered to a halt and the world went perfectly still.
Dracula collapsed, still buried inside of her with his front molded to her back, and there he remained for nearly a whole minute before he could muster the strength to roll off of her. He fell unceremoniously onto his back with a satisfied groan, and while he was at her side now, her hand – which he had taken just before the end – remained in his.
Frankie lied there, boneless but profoundly content in her post-coital afterglow, her sex still pulsating with the aftershocks. She turned her head to look at him – her husband, lover, and king – the man who she was now forever bound to – blood, body and soul. His eyes were closed, but she could tell that he wasn't yet asleep. Just at peace and entirely spent.
He wasn't the only one.
It was some time later before he finally opened his eyes again, turning his head to look at her. That seemed invitation enough to move, so she scooted a little closer to him, gratified when he tucked her into his hold. She could feel his lower abdomen still trembling from earlier and she nuzzled her face affectionately into his neck.
"I take it that it's had been a while since someone played with that fantastic ass of yours?" she asked, voice full of mirth. He chuckled weakly.
"Definitely a while."
She lightly began to caress the sharp valleys between the sculpted muscles of his front, still feeling the faintest tremors rippling beneath her fingertips. It made her smile against his chest and she kissed that lion brand on his skin before looking up at him.
"You still think you'll be able to keep pace with me, old man? Or have I worn you out already?"
Dracula's eyes had closed again, but a dark smirk curled his lips.
Then she felt the rough smack of his hand on her ass and she squirmed against him, the heat of the sting spreading over her butt cheek pleasurably. The friction sent his flaccid manhood twitching against her thigh.
"Who are you calling old?" he asked.
"This depleted husk next to me."
That earned her another smack, harder this time, and she crooned in his ear, rubbing herself wetly against his hip.
"Don't tease me if you don't have the energy to deliver."
"Mmmm, my apologies. I had no idea you liked to be spanked so much," he noted with a deep chuckle, the words near guttural. She leaned into the hand now resting on her ass, trying to ignore the trickle of arousal leaking from her as he rubbed the warmth into her cheeks.
"I like a lot of things."
"I look forward to exploring them with you."
Eventually, his fingers moved up to idly caress the length of her spine.
"Just not right now?" she asked.
"Give me fifteen minutes at least," he said with a sigh, stroking her back, tracing unknown whorls and swirls along the length as they continued to lie there.
But the stillness didn't last long.
Even with the sun now high in the sky, sleep continued to evade them both and after a while, Vlad could feel Francesca's eyes on him. He finally opened his to find her studying his face, a thoughtful consideration in her countenance.
Frankie took his free hand and pressed a kiss to his palm in what felt like gratitude before resting it on her own face.
"What is it?" he asked.
She didn't answer.
Instead, she smiled – one of those rare ones, a quiet joy in her face. And damn it if it didn't kill him.
Oh, this woman had the power to bring him to his knees.
Never had he felt so weak.
And the strangest part about it was it didn't bother him in the slightest.
She sucked in a shuddering breath, her fingers trembling as she brushed them against his mouth. Then she leaned forward and kissed him, her mouth soft and warm. His body finally went still – his entire world went still. There was a second kiss, and then the muttering of her lips against his.
"I'll be right back."
Before he could argue or even ask where she was going, she had slipped from the bed, vanishing into the darkness, though her legs nearly gave out underneath her and he heard her collide with the bedroom door on her way out. He had to bite on his tongue to keep from laughing.
When she returned to bed, she had something in her hand that caught the glow of the firelight on the other side of the room. She curled in next to him and he became aware of something cold like metal resting between their bodies.
"We can do this later if you'd like to sleep first, but I want to make sure that it's gone…"
She lifted the object she had gone to retrieve so he could see it and immediately he understood.
The handcuffs.
She wanted to make sure her blood-rage was truly no longer a problem.
Frankie placed the bonds in his hand – an offering.
A sign of trust.
"Are you sure?" he asked, recognizing the gravity of what she was asking him to do.
Given the conversations they had had in the past, he knew that it had been decades since she had last allowed a man to tie her down in bed – at least to the point where she would literally not be able to get free.
Not since what happened with Augustine and her captivity.
"I trust you," she whispered, resting her hand over his heart. "And I also want to make absolutely certain that that part of me is whole, that it won't be a threat or problem ever again. You're the only one I trust with this… and there's really only one way to find out for sure."
His cock twitched at the thought.
"I'm giving you carte blanche, Dracula. No limits. No holding back. Let's see what you're really capable of."
Random side-note/afterthought: I know some of you were probably turned off/grated by the use of the word cunt. Personally speaking, that word has never bothered me and I find it to be more salacious sounding than pussy. Pussy just seems so... frat-boyish and doesn't quite pack the right punch for the intensity of this situation. Vagina is so clinical; and any other euphemisms for female lady bits might work if the general feel of the scene were different, but most of the time they come off as silly to me. I don't know. Guess its just a personal preference.
Hopefully the chapter in general was satisfactory and worth the wait.
As much as I enjoy reading smut (not necessarily for smut's sake most of the time, though that's an entirely different topic of conversation), writing good smut, I have learned over the years, through reading and through personal experience, is no easy feat. Being woefully out of practice probably doesn't help my cause. Ah well. I'm still happy with how this turned out (especially considering how many times I rewrote the damn thing, lol)
Thanks for sticking with the story, though! Don't forget to leave a review.