You don't know how she managed to convince you in the end, but the details don't seem important after a few minutes.
"Marcy," you gasp, voice dripping with desire as her fangs graze your collarbone. She chuckles. "Someone's eager tonight. Guess you really weren't having such a 'great time' at that party." You can't find it in yourself to care about her comment with her thigh pressed so deliciously between yours. Your hands grip tighter to her shoulders, silently urging her to continue. "You've been wanting this all night, haven't you?" she teases. You groan when she grabs your thigh and hoists it onto her hip, opening you further to the leg that was slowly driving you insane. "Tell me, princess. Tell me you've wanted me all night. Tell me you wanted me to steal you away and fuck you." You gasp at the coarse language, at the way it sends a flood of arousal to your core. "Yes," you moan, "I wanted you, I always want you." With a growl she rips away from you. "Take off your dress," she demands. You hesitate for a moment, feeling exposed without her body pressed against yours. But when you meet her eyes and find them enflamed with lust you can't help but comply.
With your kiss-swollen lip between your teeth you begin untying the knots at the front of your dress. You move slowly, carefully, and when the last knot is undone you let the fabric fall from your shoulders in a pool of silk. You hear her take a sharp inhale of breath as she takes in your bare skin and your nipples tighten at the way her eyes rove over you. "My my, princess," she says quietly, "You look good enough to eat." Her snake tongue flicks out, tasting the air. "How might I serve you, Your Majesty?" Your title drips from her lips like honey, tempting you into the fantasy you'd never dared indulge. You swallow nervously, but the tension building within you makes you bold. "You should always kneel before royalty," you find yourself saying. "Of course, Your Highness, I apologize." She gracefully falls to her knees before you, smirking up at you and you're sure she can smell the effect she has on you. You take a shaky breath, painfully aroused by this point. "Remove my underthings," you command. Still smirking, she grazes her fingers up your thighs before hooking them in the waistband of your white cotton panties. You wonder if she notices the wet spot in the dim lighting. The way her smirk morphs into a leer as she looks in front of her tells you that yes, she does. You try to find it in yourself to be embarrassed at how easy you are for her but you can't. Why shouldn't you be easy for the only person in the world who can make you wet with just a flick of her tongue? She slowly begins to pull the cotton down and as she does she looks back up at you. This time, she isn't smirking. Her pupils are blown and tinted red and her nostrils flare slightly with each inhale and you remember, suddenly, that you have a vampire in your room. On her knees. In front of you. All that power and energy at your disposal. The realization makes you heady and does everything for your arousal. "Marcy," you whisper. She shudders. "I need you."
Too quick for you to catch the movement she rises, pulling you into a bruising kiss. Your eyes flutter closed, and you lean into her still clothed body with your nude one and pour your longing into the space between your lips. And then slender fingers are there and the moan that rips its way from your throat is far too loud, too desperate. You can feel her grin into your kiss and then she starts to move and it's all you can do to remain standing. You cling to her, letting each sound be caught in her lips until she pulls away, latching onto your neck instead. Each pass of her devious fingers over your clit sends a resounding cry through your bedchamber and after a few moments you're unable to stay still. Your hips buck in time with her movements, chasing the release that was building with each passing moment. "Does it please you, Your Majesty?" she says sultrily against your neck. Your nails dig into her shoulder blades and you feel yourself teetering on that edge. "Answer me," she growls. "Yes!" you cry out as her fangs sink into your neck and her fingers curl into you. With a final sharp gasp you're spiraling into the abyss, shaking and moaning and crying out the name of your friend, your lover, your vampire queen...your drug.