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About the author:
New Author and deep lover of Paranormal Romance
What inspired you to write your book?
Kresley Cole's Immortals After Dark and Gena Showalter's Lords of the Underworlds series
Here is a short sample from the book:
THE REALM OF FAERIE.
THE UNSEELIE COURT.
I need something to relieve this monotony. Something to draw my interest, anything at this point to fill this hole inside me.
Lucien Silvano glanced around with disinterest at his surroundings. The three-thousand-year-old immortal, vaunted and feared king of vampires, legendary predator and player, was bored. And given that he was in the midst of a massive immortal orgy, that was saying something.
To his left, three nymphs serviced a massive ogre. To his right, two lycans filled a gorgon as she screamed in ecstasy. Ambrosia, a potent fermented alcohol for immortals, flowed as every sensual delight imaginable was at his disposal, just waiting to be sampled. But he couldn’t summon even the slightest interest in any of them. Hells, he hadn't even raised a brow at the sight of the snake-headed gorgon, her snake’s eyes and her own blindfolded to prevent her partners from turning to stone, being railed by two wolf shifters.
In the face of all these hedonistic spectacles, he’d barely stifled a yawn. Maybe he was just weary of Faerie and could do with a change of scenery.
Gods, I’ve only been here for a couple hours and already I’m over this place.
He had hoped traveling to a new realm, to an erotic immortal ball no less, would have given him something to be excited about. It would have in the past. Yet, years of using sex to distract himself had abruptly stopped working. All the ways he used to while away his time falling flat.
He glanced down at himself, clad only in tight leather pants, feeling nothing below the belt, not even the slightest twitch of interest.
He considered taking the rift back to the mortal realm, back to his castle in Romania, the royal seat of all vampires. Perhaps something more familiar could stir his interest, but the thought of returning to the obsidian cavernous walls, the sycophants trying to court his favor, the cold hallways and even colder nights, made him even wearier. There was a reason he’d temporarily abandoned it for Faerie.
He’d thought the magical realm would have made something stir within him. Something that had been missing for a while. Immortality was nothing more than a constant battle against eternal boredom.
He tried to conjure interest as a dryad, a wood nymph, sidled next to him, her transparent green dress leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, soft and supple in all the ways a female should be.
"Looking to play?" She boldly reached for his cock, frowning when the touch did nothing to rouse him.
He forced a chuckle at her presumptive grab, pulling her hand away, "Seems I need someone more gorgeous than you to make my shaft stir."
The comment earned him a resounding slap and various immortals turned towards the sound, shocked the vaunted vampire king had been struck by a female.
Shrugging nonchalantly to the audience, he flashed his signature heart-breaking smile, letting it fade slowly when they all turned back to their partners. No doubt the immortals were shocked not only that he could have said anything to warrant the strike, but also that he was the only immortal not engaged with anyone, despite his surroundings.
He’d never lacked for companionship, male or female, as he’d never been picky, but all the things that used to stir his hunger seemed stale. He used to enjoy events like these. When had they stopped interesting him? When had they stopped filling the pit within him?
Swiping a large glass of blood-laced ambrosia, he downed it in a single gulp, slamming the goblet onto a nearby table. Not even the potent alcohol and the welcome taste of blood could infringe on his disinterest.
He knew what this meant; he’d likely begin seeking out something else to occupy his time. When he grew bored of sexual delights in the past, though admittedly never had it grown to this extent, he’d rallied his vampires into a war.
Around and around he went, war to sex from sex to war, over and over again for three thousand years. He was desperate to forget the lack he felt, the loneliness that pursued him tirelessly.
No, don’t go there. Think about war, about battle, forget the yawning emptiness inside.
He envisioned the bloodlust overcoming him on the battlefield, his opponents changing in his head as he imagined the various species of immortals pitted against him.
Lycans? No, still have that peace treaty over that last skirmish. Though over a thousand years ago, both sides had come away with severely dwindled numbers. The war continued for a decade, until Lucien beheaded the then King of Lycans, who had attacked first, unwarranted, and struck a truce with his much more level-headed and rational son, Erik Wulfric. He actually liked Erik, would even consider him a friend, so lycans were quickly discarded as a possible opponent.
There were hundreds of different species of immortals to choose from, and he had no shortage of enemies, he just had to pick the right opponent.
Glancing around at the other species present for inspiration, he pondered the possibilities. Fae? Out of the question. Not only was he currently a guest of Titania, the Fae Queen, but Fae were absolutely diabolical, even here in an erotic pleasure den, it would be unwise to completely drop his guard. Plus, he had slept with Titania on several occasions before she’d met Oberon, the new king, and couldn’t imagine the kind of jealous rage Oberon would unleash if he thought Lucien was attempting to reclaim her.
As a Dark Fae, Oberon’s skin would begin to emit a deadly poison, and his gossamer wings would turn black if his new wife was threatened. He rolled his eyes, you’d think having slept with and discarded her, Oberon would take the hint he was no longer interested, but alas, the Fae still viciously guarded his queen whenever Lucien neared.
As if conjured from his thoughts, Titania spoke from next to his shoulder, "Nothing to interest your varied tastes, Lucien?"
Glancing down at her, he took her in dismissively. Though most assumed faeries to be miniature, they were similar to most immortals in size, Titania topping at just over five and a half feet, and her new husband Oberon, at over six feet. Their only distinguishing features from other immortals were their bright, almost glowing, silver eyes and their gossamer wings. Their wings appeared delicate, as if a single breath could tear them, but Lucien knew they were deceptively strong, capable of cutting the throat of an enemy. Like everything regarding the Fae, appearances were meant to deceive; you took things at face value at your own peril.
They were very different from the mortal's version of the Fae. When he’d first met Titania, he’d expressed his curiosity at the human's erroneous interpretation of faeries and Titania had furiously muttered, "If I ever get my hands on that Disney fucker, I’ll be sure to show him just what a faerie really looks like."
"Nothing yet, love," he now said. "Give it time." He smirked, noticing her dark eyebrow raise in question. She likely sensed something was wrong, knowing that he usually would have burned through several partners by now. Why couldn’t he be attracted to Titania again? She was gorgeous, with dark hair and silver eyes. She haunted many males' dreams, but he hadn’t thought of her that way in years. Plus, her new husband barely let him breathe in the same direction as her.
"Your male approaches, no doubt enraged at you for speaking to me in such a setting," he said, gesturing at the continuing orgy, and the furious Fae King storming towards them.
Titania smothered a smile, winking at him surreptitiously, "I’ll admit to using you, Lucien. I enjoy Oberon’s jealousy too much."
The Fae King’s eyes were dark with rage, his tall frame stomping towards them, the veins in his wings beginning to turn black. Weaker immortals would have cowered at the sight.
Lucien sighed in boredom, glancing away from the approaching opponent, as if he was beneath his notice. Which, in all honesty, he was.
"My love!" Titania called out, and Oberon's look of murderous intent morphed to one of tenderness at the sight of his queen.
The vicious and deadly immortal was utterly led around by her. Their marriage had merged light and dark Fae, the Seelie and Unseelie court, into one and the realm still reeled from it.
Distracted from Lucien, the vampire slipped away, darting through more writhing bodies. Noticing the only empty balcony, he headed towards it. Maybe he simply needed a moment alone to reinvigorate his desire, or to pick a new opponent in his planned war.
Staring out towards the exterior courtyards, the skies of Faerie were lit up with colored streaks from its various inhabitants fabled dust, which drifted into the sky when it fell from their wings. He supposed the sight would cause most immortals to sigh in wonderment, but such sights had become commonplace to him over the years.
I need something to relieve this monotony. Think of battle! Think of war! Anything but this isolation.
He took a deep inhale of the wind whistling by, the ambrosia and perfume of sex almost muting his enhanced sense of smell to that of a human. He thought back to possible opponents for his vampires, searching for a species that would actually present a worthwhile challenge for him.
As if I could possibly be challenged, he thought arrogantly. There was a reason he’d maintained his rule over his volatile blood-hungry subjects for so many millennia; he was absolutely indomitable.
He turned his focus away from the scenery, no longer interested in the silver trees with golden leaves lining the palace courtyard, instead staring sightlessly beyond them.
The Witches? No. Not enough had survived the years of persecution to be a threat to his army. He’d heard rumors that though the witches had regained some of their numbers over the last millennia, their Witches Council, each seat occupied by the oldest of their magical lineage, were vicious and constantly jockeying for power, making it utterly impossible to accomplish anything.
They spent their immortal lives constantly bickering instead of moving forward and evolving as other immortals were required, mired in their ancient rules and punishments. Supposedly, the seat’s occupants were constantly trying to kill each other, making their Council more dangerous than any other immortal court.
How about against a Demon faction?
Now that holds promise.
Many mortals considered demons to be angels that fell from the heavens and the epitome of evil. Which was the case for some demons, but not for the majority of them. Most were descendants of the original daemons, appearing human until it was too late, their eyes turning fully black, horns sprouting from their heads, skin mottling, changing colors depending on their subspecies.
In the mortal realm, there was a plethora of demons, each faction holding different root powers than another. Some grew wings, others could manipulate emotions, still others were poisonous. Demons had a queen, though no one knew her name or even the plane on which she resided.
Once, in a fit of boredom, Lucien had tortured a high-level demon in an attempt to get him to reveal her location, but after almost a decade, he realized something—The demon literally could not reveal anything about his queen. His interest waned, finally granting the demon’s pleas for death with a short beheading, one of the few ways you can truly kill an immortal.
As he reflected on which demons would present the most intriguing battle, a female’s voice carried across the balcony to him, his back snapping straight with realization. She had caught him off guard. Something that never happened. He was never taken by surprise; it’s how he’d made it this long as an immortal.
"The only immortal not participating in a Fae orgy. How could I resist my natural curiosity?" she asked rhetorically.
Her voice pulled at him, from deep within his chest, but he forced himself to slowly turn to face her, making sure not to let on that she had caught him so unawares. At the sight of her, he barely kept his mouth from dropping open.
Clad in a Grecian-style gown that pulled tight over one shoulder, was one of the most stunning beings he’d ever laid eyes on, and as a three-millennia-old hedonist, he’d seen plenty of gorgeous females. Still, none came close to her.
Red hair the color of the embers spilled from the golden comb holding it up, playing against her bare shoulder. Her heart-shaped face was clear of the freckles which often burdened females of that hue, eyes the color of blooming lilacs looked back at him, the vaguest hints of interest in them.
Her eyes fascinated him; he’d never seen a female with such a light shade of purple. In fact, he struggled to recall ever seeing a being with such a colored iris. Full pink lips had his fantasies running wild, and high cheekbones—she was everything he could ever desire in a woman.
Had she said something? He struggled to recall.
"I don’t see you participating either, female." His answer seemed to amuse her, drawing her further into the colored lights of the Fae sky.
Finally, seeing her body clearly in the light, no longer hidden by the shadows cast by the ballroom, his mouth went dry, and the cock he had so bemoaned for being unaroused went rock hard. He could barely process how quickly his shaft became like steel in his pants, nearly stumbling at the sudden arousal, shuffling his feet to cover it.
Her breasts, though free beneath her gown were pert and full, her nipples becoming hard little buds as he watched. His hands ached to squeeze them. Her petite waist led into generous hips, enough for a male to grab and hold while fucking her for dear life. He tried to cough discreetly but he was unable to conceal the lust in his eyes.
Must not scare her, let her come closer.
He was tempted to turn his gaze back to the courtyard, but fearful that if his eyes left her for even a second, she would disappear.
She sidled closer to him, appraising him as he had her. What did she see? His dark hair was darker and longer than normal, curling down his neck, and his bright green eyes had more than one immortal female swooning.
Thankfully he was shirtless, though he wished he’d forgone his pants as well, not wanting anything between him and this mysterious female. He could barely stop himself from yanking her to him now.
Towering over her petite frame, sensing she felt no fear, something he’d not experienced in eons. Most women, and men, came to his bed for two reasons: his pleasing form and getting off on the fear they felt at the idea of being with someone of his reputation.
When had that begun to annoy him?
The mysterious female continued her approach, her hips rolling seductively as she closed the distance. He bit his tongue until it bled to keep himself from panting.
Had he ever been so affected by someone?
She stopped inches from him, actually daring to hop next to him on the marble railing, facing the open doors to the ballroom, the slit in her gown revealing one toned thigh.
Her scent hit him like a freight train, though it gave no hint as to her species. He could eliminate the most obvious ones—she had no horns or wings, but that left a few dozen other possibilities. Cherry blossoms.
He closed his eyes trying to subtly inhale her scent, turning back to the courtyard, hoping she didn’t notice that his hands were clutching the marble bannister, his claws digging into it to keep from reaching for her.
"Would you like to know a secret?" her throaty voice whispered, her breath teasing his ear. He couldn’t stop the shiver.
"Anything from you." Was that desperate voice his own?
He planted his feet to prevent himself from rocking his hips, imagining he was plunging inside her. He just caught the scent of her arousal from the confusing cloud of aromas and knew she wanted him. Who wouldn’t? Evidence of her arousal only enhanced his need. His erection causing utter agony, he’d do anything to come.
Her lips came closer to his ear, "I’ve never been to an event like this."
He rotated his head to face her with immortal speed and her eyes widened only slightly in surprise at the movement, becoming hooded with desire again when she gazed at his lips.
He responded to her unspoken question, "So, you chose me to introduce you to it?"
He was flattered and annoyed. What if she hadn’t chosen him? Would some other male be primed to enter her lithe little body?
Control. The. Rage.
Turning his face forward again, hoping to conceal his riotous desire and annoyance. Her lips were back at his ear, her teasing voice making him ache. "I noticed you inside. You looked utterly bored by your surroundings. I decided you were perfect. Only a truly jaded immortal could be unaffected by such a proceeding. And why should I have a student when I could have the master?" She bit his ear playfully at the question.
Again, moving like a blur, he shoved her legs apart with his hips, his arms caging her in, preventing escape. He was sure he appeared ravenous for her, but he stopped himself, just inches from her lips.
"Oh? And have you had your fill of amateurs tonight?" His voice was rough and harsh, and a fiery brow went up in surprise.
Her husky voice remained low, mesmerizing him. "Would it bother you? If I’d been with someone else tonight?"
He clutched her nape roughly, unable to gentle his touch, though she seemed more aroused by his action. "I don’t relish the idea of being someone’s second choice." It actually had never bothered him before, but it did now.
She bit her luscious lips, making him imagine them around his cock as he fucked her mouth, her screaming his name as he fed himself inside her.
"There’s no one else, I saw only you."
Her answer rang with sincerity, and Lucien utterly lost control, which was a myth, a joke at that point, yanking her closer for a bruising kiss. Gods her taste! He could become addicted to it and to the sounds she made when she mewled into his mouth, wrapping her arms around him, drawing him closer, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.
He always tempered his strength during sex—he could kill his partners if he wasn’t careful—but knew instinctively that this female could take anything he possibly dished out. The tangy scent of his blood only inflamed him more, his tongue plundering her sweet mouth with even more force. He wanted to meld himself into her, leaving no part of her unexplored by his fingers, cock, or tongue.
She broke the kiss with a rough inhale, "Shouldn’t we head up to one of the bedrooms?" Her breaths were coming in small pants, her luscious breasts shaking from it.
He could barely think, barely process her question, doubting he could make it upstairs without pushing her against a wall and sliding his cock into her. But his smooth voice responded, covering his inner turmoil, "I thought you wanted the master, female? The master takes you were he pleases."
THE REALM OF FAERIE.
THE UNSEELIE COURT.
There has to be somewhere else I can find a tracker to hunt this asshole down, she thought, glancing around in shock at the spectacle of the Fae Court.
Phoebe swallowed nervously, trying to dodge the grasping hands of other immortals as they invited her to join in on their liaisons. She tried to hide her anxiety as she politely declined their offers, letting them return to their partners and forget all about her. She was only at the event to find someone who could track the untraceable.
Easy peasy. I definitely haven’t been trying to find someone to do that very thing for the last decade.
Despite the length of her fruitless search, she still followed every possible lead, hoping that just one of the wild chases would lead to someone able to help her.
She fidgeted with her outfit, happy that her dress blended into the crowd, even though it was more modest than others. Most immortals around her preferred scraps of fabric to cover themselves, some not even bothering with the slightest attempt at modesty.
She jumped back in surprise when a Fae pulled her hand gently, trying to coax her into a secluded alcove.
"Come with me, sweetheart. I’ll make you forget all about your worries." She yanked her hand away from his.
"Thank you, but no thank you," she snapped, trying to calm her surprise at his forward approach.
The Fae shrugged, already looking for another conquest. She let out a breath of relief, rubbing her hands together, the golden light of her power, which she'd conjured reflexively, finally fading. She glanced around nervously, hoping no one noticed.
Rule No. 4: Never draw attention, mortal or otherwise.
Though she knew witches were not supposed to be present, she was still cautious about her display of power. Can never be too careful. The lack of witches was one of the reasons she’d decided to come, knowing none of her own people would be there.
None of these people are actively trying to kill me. Focus, Phoebe. There’s a strife demon here who should be able to track him down.
The lead she was currently following was a Demon of Eris, who supposedly could find anything in all the realms.
She glanced around, still trying to avoid drawing attention, absently wishing she had temporarily dyed her flame-red hair, something she had considered doing before leaving. She had ultimately decided against it, believing foolishly that she would have been just another immortal in the swarm. Should have known better.
Her flame red hair constantly drew attention. She had thought about dying it thousands of times, or shearing off the mass, but every time she came close, when she glared at herself in the mirror, a memory of her mother would play before her, with the same flame-colored hair, which always stopped her from taking the final step.
I miss you mom. So much.
Her hair tied her to her parents, as did her eyes. Their unique color was just like her father's, which also prevented her from changing them with a glamour. Though changing them would have helped her conceal her identity, they were ties to her mother and father that she simply could not sever, no matter the cost.
Weaving through the writhing bodies, she tried to analyze the group of immortals around her. Antonius was supposed to be around six feet tall, with black hair down his back, likely attached at the hip to a blonde-haired Dark Fae.
She darted her eyes around, trying to find the demon. Gods I didn’t consider that trying to find these two would mean I had to make prolonged observations of these squirming liaisons. Maybe I should just go home.
She jumped out of the way just in time as a werewolf locked at the lip with a Siren slammed into the wall in front of her. They didn’t even notice. Yep, I’m going to have to find this demon another way.
Turning on her heel, she prepared to leave, her head coming up in surprise when a crackling slap echoed across the ballroom, causing her to catch sight of the one other immortal not engaged in any of the festivities, one who'd just been viciously struck by a Dryad. Her breath caught.
Oh. My. Gods. Must touch, must taste.
Her mouth dropped in shock at the male who shrugged at the other immortals who’d turned at the sound. When the others all dismissed the event, turning back to their partners, Phoebe’s eyes remained locked on him.
His dark wavy hair was long, cut right above his shoulders. The ends would curl over the edge of his collar, if he wore one. He moved through the event, not drawn in by the spectacle, instead seeming to stifle a yawn of boredom.
Glancing around, her eyebrows shot up in astonishment. How could anyone be bored by this?
Observing him, she watched him survey the other couples in attendance, his eyes betraying his disinterest in his surroundings. Clad only in black leather pants and boots with no shirt, his wide, chiseled chest was free from any covering.
Her breaths were now coming in pants as desire spiked within her, and she moved along the walls to keep track of him as he glided through the event. She could imagine trailing her tongue along the ridges of his defined muscles. He would tower over her if he stood in front of her, probably almost a full foot taller than her five and a half feet.
The Faerie Queen approached him, speaking softly to him. Their easy familiarity was quickly cut short by the approach of the Fae King, who was clearly enraged by them speaking to each other, his wings and skin turning black.
The other immortal slipped away from the cooing couple, and Phoebe couldn’t help but follow the male, cutting across the ballroom towards the only unoccupied balcony leading to the courtyard.
Unable to resist her natural curiosity, she followed, like an unseen force pulled her towards the mysterious male. She didn’t miss that he didn’t spare a single glance at the other immortal couplings, completely uninterested. Fascinating.
At the archway leading to the balcony, she paused, taking in his tense profile. He didn’t even appreciate the spectacle of the realm before him; the silver trees blooming with solid gold leaves appeared to do nothing for him. He was clutching the marble banister in thought, his back as mouthwatering as his front, tension present throughout his frame.
"The only immortal not participating in a Fae orgy. How could I resist my natural curiosity?" she asked his back, noticing how he tensed up even more at her voice. Had she snuck up on him? Was he so involved in his own thoughts that he hadn’t heard her?
He took measured steps to turn around and face her, letting her take him in up close, finally able to see the color of his eyes, which were a bright emerald green. They were locked on her, absorbing every aspect of her face as though committing it to memory.
Gods, this man is too fine. It should be illegal to be this good looking. Honestly.
High, dark brows over those magnetic eyes, her breath snuck out when they made direct contact. His response interrupted her reverie over how hot he was. "I don’t see you participating either, female."
His voice rolled over her like an ocean wave, pulling her closer to where he stood by the railing. It was slightly accented, possibly Russian or Eastern European. She was a sucker for accents.
His eyes were still appraising her. He didn’t move closer to her, so she walked towards him, slowly. This man pulled at her like no other. There was a strange magnetism to him, one she had never experienced, and helplessly, she submitted to its thrall.
When she was close enough, she hopped up onto the banister, gazing back at the ball that still remained in full swing through the balcony door. He turned back to face the courtyard.
"Would you like to know a secret?" she asked when he did nothing but try to observe her from the corner of his eye.
Though his body was still tense, he definitely did not radiate the ambivalence he had previously. He was clearly interested in her, which she couldn’t help being flattered by, given all the gorgeous females inside. She was the only one to pull a reaction from him. The interest is extremely mutual.
Her arousal was already raging through her, her nipples tightening, and she was tempted to cross her legs and squeeze her thighs for some type of relief.
"Anything from you," he whispered back to her, his voice surprisingly hoarse.
"I’ve never been to an event like this," she told him, silently asking for him to take on the role of introducing her, something he clearly heard without her having to speak it out loud.
His head whipped towards her with such a blur of speed, she wondered for the first-time what kind of immortal he was. With that kind of speed, she could eliminate a witch or demon, neither species were known for that type of movement.
"So, you chose me to introduce you to it?" he asked, her eyes following the movement of his mouth when he spoke, entranced by the wide lips pressed together. Her imagination was already running wild with the possibilities of his mouth on her.
He faced away from her, likely hoping that he could convey disinterest in her, but the way he leaned towards her and gripped the railing a bit desperately, to keep himself from reaching for her, contradicted his efforts.
"I noticed you inside. You looked utterly bored by your surroundings. I decided you were perfect. Only a truly jaded immortal could be unaffected by such a proceeding. And why should I have a student when I could have the master?" she asked, noticing his eyes went hooded at that, as she playfully bit the ear she whispered into.
Unable to track his movement, he used his speed to push her hips apart with his, his palms landing heavily on either side of her, caging her in. Her arousal spiked to an almost unbearable level. His gaze was locked on her lips, and his own rampant arousal was pressed against her.
"Oh? And have you had your fill of amateurs, tonight?" he asked, still an inch from her lips. But his eyes lit with something other than arousal at the question, instead bright with…what? Anger?
"Would it bother you? If I had been with someone else tonight?" It wasn’t unusual for immortals to enjoy multiple partners in a single evening.
"I don’t relish the idea of being someone’s second choice." As if this man had ever been someone’s second choice. How could anyone pick another over him?
"There was no one else. I saw only you." she whispered sincerely, this small encounter was probably the most honest she’d been with someone in a decade.
She gasped when he suddenly kissed her, his lips practically bruising her, making her even more aroused. He was hitting all her secret triggers; she wanted a man so out of control that he couldn’t imagine being apart from her for another second. Unable to temper his strength from his need for her.
His firm lips forced her to submit to his will, a gasp allowing his tongue to enter into her mouth. His need only heightening her own, sucking his lip into her mouth. She bit it so hard in desperation, she was shocked he didn’t break away from her. Instead it only seemed to make him more aroused.
She broke away breathily, "Shouldn’t we head to one of the bedrooms upstairs?"
He paused momentarily, his next words escalating her desire to an impossible level, "I thought you wanted the master, female? The master takes you where he pleases."
THE REALM OF FAERIE.
THE UNSEELIE COURT.
The female’s eyes widened at his controlling words, but the scent of her arousal only grew. Liked when he sounded controlling, did she? He was always dominant in the bedroom, and this female clearly enjoyed him exerting control over her.
He yanked the gold clip from her hair, letting the fiery length fall down her back. Grabbing it in his fist, he forced her eyes to meet his. "You like the idea of being fucked here on the balcony, where anyone could look out and see us, don’t you?"
She just moaned in response, biting her lip, but again her desire perfumed the air. The things he was going to do to her. If she knew the fantasies running through his mind, she’d likely run away screaming. Or would she? Might she instead revel in them?
Her next statement nearly knocked him on his ass however, cutting off his speculation. "Just so we’re clear, I’m not agreeing to have sex with you."
Nearly falling back a step, he hoarsely yelled, "What?!"
Still biting her lip, she didn’t relent. "I’m saying that we can do absolutely anything else, except have sex."
Why come to an event such as this if one didn’t intend to get fucked? The logic he needed to sort out that question was a distant memory. He didn’t recognize his own voice as he growled, "I’ll take you anyway I can get you."
She obviously took that as confirmation of her ridiculous stipulation, and he’d not admit to himself that he capitulated to a strange female’s order. Without waiting for her to add more qualifications, he plundered her mouth again, her cry of arousal at his aggression smothered by his lips. Her cries are for me alone.
With little consideration of her gown, he ripped one shoulder sleeve off her, letting her breasts bounce free, the gown cinched beneath them, preventing the move from revealing more of her. But her breasts… he hissed in a gasp at the sight.
Perfect pale globes, a full handful tipped with blush nipples begging for his mouth. With one palm, he used the pad of his forefinger, teasing her nipples to stiffen even more, barely touching the very tip of one hardened bud. Her breasts were swollen with desire, and he was keeping her from any relief.
She moaned, begging, "Please touch them, I want to feel your hands on me."
He pulled his finger away, instead bending his head to blow cold air on her aching nipples. The sensation made her jerk, reaching up to dig her fingers into his hair, trying to force him to put his lips on her.
He stopped her, slowly untangling her hands from his hair and placing them over the curved marble behind her back, forcing her breasts to jut forward, her pink nipples making his mouth water.
"You’re to keep your hands there until I tell you to move them. Is that understood?"
She just moaned, panting at the sight of his length silhouetting in his pants, her violet gaze locked on the aching appendage, her pupils blown with desire.
"You’ll submit to my orders or I won’t let you come."
The ultimatum had her frantically nodding, obviously desperate for her orgasm. Groaning at her submission, he finally took her bud into his mouth. His eyes rolled back at her taste, stunned anew. Gods!
He suckled her hard, bringing his other hand up to play with the other nipple, pinching it roughly, slapping it as the blood returned. "Gods!" she yelled, giving voice to his secret exclamation.
He did the same to the other breast, sucking hard before remembering to gentle himself, but she immediately protested at his attempt. "Harder!"
She couldn’t please me more.
He gave in to her command, giving her everything he had and then some. She became more turned on the rougher he was. Exquisite female. Wicked female.
She was practically frantic for her orgasm, writhing under his grip. Though he’d claimed to want eyes on her, he felt that her first of many climaxes with him should be for his eyes alone. Using his speed, he lifted her off the railing, twisting her so that her back aligned with his front, her jutting breasts defenseless against the cold winds of Faerie. She made to cover them with her hands, but he tsked causing her to freeze. Awaiting his direction, making sure she felt his rock-hard cock against her ass, he rocked against her.
"Place your hands around my neck."
She reached back, locking her hands behind his neck, leaving her vulnerable, at his mercy. He thrust against her ass more frantically, enjoying the way her tits bounced when he did. They were still wet and swollen from his ministrations. "You like feeling my cock against you?" She nodded, going to her tiptoes, making her meld into him. "The words, female."
Biting her lip in that maddening way, she complied. "I like feeling your cock against my ass."
Perfect female. He spanked her aforementioned ass, enjoying how she seemed to lean into his light strike. Finding the part in her gown, he ripped it higher, despite her protest, the slit rising all the way to where the gown tightened under her breasts.
With the new tear, he was able to part the gown, draping it over the railing in front of her, keeping it from falling back to conceal her curves. He stifled a groan at her ass bared for him, only covered by a slight white thong, which he tore from her, stuffing the soaked lace into his pocket.
"Gods, woman, your body drives me mad." He moaned, unlacing his own pants so his cock could spring free between them.
He saw her jerk when she felt the hot skin of his shaft against her, and for some reason he sought to comfort her. "I remember, female. Don’t worry."
His shaft just felt too good rocking against her bare ass. Seemingly reassured that he wasn’t about to fuck her, she relaxed again, and he succumbed to the call of her intoxicating pussy. Reaching down, gripping one toned thigh, he forced her leg up on the railing, laying it flat, spreading her wide. The cold air made her shiver as it met her heated flesh.
From behind him, a voyeur would only see his back, with her pale leg spread on the marble. Dragging his hand down her front, pinching her nipples again, he palmed her and hissed, "You’re drenched for me. Was some other male to enjoy this tonight?" Was that jealousy ringing in his tone?
"Only you, only you," she muttered, desperate to come, unknowingly soothing his anger.
"Feel how wet and ready this pussy is." His hand was holding her sex, not rubbing her clit or entering her, just hovering. She tried to thrust herself into his hand to create some friction. "You want them inside you, don’t you? You want me to fuck you with my fingers. Feed them into your greedy little pussy."
She nodded breathlessly. He slapped his palm against her drenched sex, making her jump. "The words," he growled.
"I want you to fuck me with your fingers. I want them in my pussy so bad, I ache. I want you to touch my clit as you pound them inside me." Her voice drugged with desire.
He moaned, biting her earlobe as he did. "I’m going to work your luscious body till you scream."
His fangs sharpened at the scent of her blood pulsing, and he barely resisted the urge to sink his fangs into her as along with his fingers. Stretching her leg higher, so she almost didn’t touch the ground, her stability was now totally dependent on his hands, which he moved from her front to glide over her ass, reaching for her from behind, slamming a single digit into her. He felt and heard her lose her breath at the intrusion.
Control? Never heard of it.
From her high hold, she had no choice but to endure his movements, her bouncing tits keeping time. He loved having this female at his mercy. He began to slam his finger inside her, timing it with every thrust of his hips against her ass, imagining he was plunging his shaft between her thighs.
He soon added another, whispering, "I’d kill to replace these with my cock."
His fingers set a punishing pace, and every time he pounded them inside her, her breasts shook, and the harder he did, the more she drenched his fingers.
He used his spare hand to collar her throat. "Your tight pussy is drenching my fingers, so desperate to come." Wetting his palm even more, she mewled. "You like when I tell you what to do, don’t you?"
To his shock, she shook her head. He instantly stopped his fingers, preventing her from rocking on them to get herself off.
"No! Don’t stop! Please don’t stop!" she begged. He pulled his drenched fingers from her, and she cried at the loss.
"Tell me you like it when I order you around, and I’ll let you come." He was torturing them both by keeping them on edge.
She paused, clearly considering denying it, so his hand moved from covering her wet sex to her ass, where he delivered a punishing slap. "What was that, female?"
She’d let out a gasp of outrage at the first slap but purred when he massaged away the sting. "I like when you tell me what to do." Her voice was a whisper, almost lost on the wind. Slap! Another punishing hit to her ass. "I like when you tell me what to do!" she screamed. "Please make me come!"
"Only because you begged." He smirked, feeding three of his fingers into her this time.
"Oh my god! Feels soo good!" she yelled, as he resumed his punishing rhythm.
"Tell me your greedy little pussy needs to come. Beg me for your orgasm," he ordered, his voice guttural.
"Please let me come! I need to come on your fingers! Please!"
He twisted his fingers inside her. "You ready to come?" He breathed, she nodded, her face completely glazed with desire.
He used his other hand to reach around her front, rubbing her clit at the same time his fingers pounded into her. She came with a scream, and he let out a hoarse yell as he felt her inner walls clamp down on his fingers.
He began coming on her ass, his hot cum exploding, marking her, and damned if that sight didn’t satisfy him. Inching towards her neck, about to sink his fangs into her veins, they ached as he’d never felt them ache before, and he knew his eyes were glowing red as they did before he was going to feed, his fingernails lengthening and darkening, becoming claws to pin his prey.
He was panting in anticipation when another voice interrupted his reverie, forcing his fingers from the female.
"Lucien? Wulfric is here. He says he needs to speak to you."
Titania. Gods, the Faerie Queen had the worst timing.
He whipped around, concealing the female behind him, preventing her from being seen, not even bothering to lace his pants up. He wasn’t sure he remembered how. Titania was smirking and irritation flooded him.
"Looks like you found something to interest your varied tastes," she said.
The Faerie Queen tried to lean around Lucien to catch a glimpse at the being who’d captured his attention, but he refused to budge. He even hissed, his fangs on full display when Titania continued, causing her to pale in surprise and fear. He never bared his fangs at anyone, not unless he intended to kill them. He didn't believe in idle threats.
He was disconcerted by his own reaction, though it stopped her infuriating peeping. He sensed the female adjust her dress behind him, no doubt concealing those curves that had made him lose control moments earlier. He felt a pang of irritation at the loss.
Finally, Titania turned away from them, mentioning as she departed, "He said it’s urgent."
Lucien whipped around, delighted that the female had not moved, but had covered herself. Though her gown was torn higher, in this crowd it would be easily dismissed. For some reason he wished he could cover every inch of her, keeping anyone from seeing any part that belonged to him. "I have to go."
Her face was still flushed from her orgasm, which reminded him; he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean of her cream, "Gods! You taste fucking amazing. Will you wait here for me?"
Was he pleading? What the hells?
She bit her lip again, but nodded. "Hurry back." She glanced down, pulling his pants closed, deftly knotting the ties. "Don’t like anyone else seeing that."
She smiled as if joking, but her show of possession struck a chord in him. He liked her jealous. Something he never enjoyed before, when his partners became possessive was usually when he made his exit. He was loath to leave her, but reasoned that Wulfric would not be denied, if he didn’t go meet him, the Lycan King would seek him out.
He charged back into the erotic event, determined to find the wolf shifter and then return to the intoxicating female.