La Luxure: Discover Your Blood Lust (23 page)

With a quick flick of his arm, he turned the
shower faucet, and the water immediately went from steaming to
frigid. Squealing in surprise and reeling in shock, Julia scrambled
for the faucet, slamming it closed as quickly as she could.

Covered in goose bumps, she turned and stared
in disbelief at him. "Why did you do that?"

He laughed. "That ought to cool us both down
a little."

She didn't have a chance to be annoyed with
him, or even appreciate his teasing humor, because as he stepped
smoothly from the shower, she became mesmerized by his perfect ass
and broad, muscular back.

"Julia." His expression was sly as he dangled
a towel for her.

She supposed she should be embarrassed by her
obvious ogling, but there were more important things to worry
about, like drying off her shivering body. Yanking the towel from
him, she quickly wiped the water from her skin, and then cocooned
herself into the plush, cotton folds. Although she wasn't really
angry, she glared at him from under her dripping hair.

"Oh, come now." Tugging on her towel, he
pulled her in and wrapped his arms around her, encasing her in his
over-sized towel. "If I'd let the shower do all the work, I
wouldn't have the pleasure of warming you up myself." He bent and
kissed her, deep and hard.

Forgetting she'd ever been cold, she released
her own towel and pressed into him, sliding her hands around his
neck and pulling him as close as possible. Seconds later, his towel
joined hers on the floor.

He only lingered there a moment before
scooping her up and carrying her from the bathroom. Although the
kiss never eased up, it became softer, gentler; his full lips
enveloping hers in a series of sucks and nips.

It wasn't until he set her down on something
cool and soft that she was finally able to get air to the bottom on
her lungs. They were on his bed. The mattress was firm but plush,
and the high thread count of the black cotton sheets felt like silk
against her bare skin. Two candles cast a soft golden glow over the
room, throwing dancing shadows on the red painted walls.

Easing her back onto the bed, his lips left
her mouth and trailed down her neck. Her breath caught as she
expected him to bite her. Only his tongue grazed her flesh though,
as he moved from her neck. His touch was feather light, and chills
danced on her skin wherever it landed. He lingered briefly on her
breasts, bringing her nipples alive and exploring the sensitized
nerves with quick flicks of his tongue, before moving lower.

When his tongue lightly brushed across her
clit, waves of energy shot up her spine. She moaned, arching into
him. Faintly, she heard him echo her. His tongue danced around her
core, exploring her inner thighs, the points of her hips, and then
returning to delicately caress the tip of her clit. It would only
take a few more passes and she would cum again.

God, she just wanted to pull his body against
hers, feel him deep inside, grind her hips into him. Oral sex
wasn't enough, she needed to touch him, be one with him. She needed
his body to cover hers.

As if reading her mind, he was suddenly above
her. Grabbing his neck, she met him with a rough kiss. All of the
gentleness fled from his touch, and the firm way his hands passed
over her curves only inflamed her further. They became a tangle of
bodies, pawing and groping at each other like a hormone enraged
teenage couple.

Hovered above her, Armand finally pulled
back, his breath heavy and rough. As his hazel gaze trapped hers,
an intense longing and desire slammed into her. "I want to taste
you, drink you."

"Please," she begged, squirming under his
heavy body, wanting,
craving
more of him. She needed him to
drink from her, needed to share every part of her body with him,
needed to be the woman that gave him everything he desired,
including her blood. Especially her blood. It surprised her how
strong the longing was. "God, Armand, yes."

Planting a final, passionate kiss on her
before sliding smoothly off the bed, Armand quickly retrieved a few
items from his nightstand and returned to her side.

The cool handle of what looked like an
intricately carved scalpel slid slowly and lightly down her neck
and over her breasts. "The blade is fresh," he murmured, his gentle
kisses trailing the hilt.

She barely heard him, she was too engrossed
by the contrast between the cold, hard metal, and his soft, warm
mouth. He moved lower, passing lightly over her core and stopping
at her inner thigh. Easing her legs apart, he continued to lightly
caress her skin with the blunt end of the knife. Chills shot down
her legs and heat flooded her loins. By now, it had to be hot
enough down there to fry an egg.

He flipped the blade, nipped gently at her
skin, and then made two tiny incisions, a growl erupting somewhere
deep in his throat as he covered the broken skin with his mouth.
The pain was quick and barely noticeable; the feel of his warm
mouth clamped over her flesh overruled everything else.

The sensation of him drinking from her was
not what Julia expected. Instead of taking long draws from her, he
licked and sucked at her flesh with short pulls, like a series of
passionate kisses. His hands were clamped on her thigh, his moans
and growls an indication of the intense pleasure the act was giving
him.

It was overpowering and had her on the verge
of an orgasm. Again. The energy was slammed against a dam, ready to
burst with the slightest touch. His mouth was so close to her sex,
if he moved just a few inches he could relieve the pressure.

He didn't drink long, and when he finished
with her blood, he turned to her sex, devouring her clit with the
same short, sucking pulls he'd used to lap up her blood. Her orgasm
exploded immediately, crashing through her body in a wave of
contractions. His name escaped her lips somewhere among the moans
of pleasure, and he increased his efforts, pushing her orgasm
further and harder than she'd ever experienced, to the point where
she finally had to pull back when the intensity became
overwhelming.

His breathing was heavy and rough when he met
her in a hard kiss. "God. Damn," he panted. "You taste
amazing."

Her heart was thumping hard in her chest, and
her toes were cold and numb. The tip of his cock was pressed gently
against her thigh, and in spite of the fact that she still hadn't
regained sensation in her limbs, she ached to have him inside her.
"Fuck me."

He smiled. "I will. Just give me a minute to
recover." He buried his face in her neck and rested the bulk of his
weight on his forearms, his biceps knotted up like huge, mounding
boulders.

"What's it like?" she wondered when her heart
had resumed a normal pace, her breathing was actually getting
oxygen into her lungs, and her feet no longer tingled.

He lifted his head from the crook of her neck
to look at her. "What?"

"Drinking blood?"

"You've never?"

She was surprised by the question. After all,
she wasn't the vampire. "No."

"Ah." Propping up on his elbow, he gently
peeled hair away from her sweat soaked face. "It's like tasting
someone's energy: drinking, absorbing, and experiencing their very
soul. Blood is the essence of life. It makes us, links us." The
words were spoken softly, and as they left his lips, the tiniest of
smiles pulled at the corners. "Sharing it with another is the most
intimate gift you can give." His multicolored eyes locked on hers,
his usual intensity both captivating and demanding. "I'd love to
share it with you now."

She was intrigued. All of her fantasies had
centered on him drinking from her, not the other way around.
"Really?"

"Absolutely." He moved to a kneeling
position, pulling her up with him. Her head swooned at the change
of position, and she swayed on her knees.

Armand retrieved a different blade than the
one he'd used on her. It was a small, simple scalpel. Flipping the
blade on himself, he drew a tiny line on his pec between his
pierced nipple and the jowl of the sneering demon.

Blood instantly filled the crevice, and a
line of red pooled on the smooth edge of the incision. A droplet
finally escaped and slid down his pale skin. The color was
luxurious, like deep red garnets. In the flickering candlelight,
his blood glistened liked the faceted stones it resembled.

She leaned forward and gently caught it on
her finger. With a questioning glance at Armand, she tentatively
touched the finger to her tongue. The taste was familiar, metallic,
and very slightly sweet. It reminded her of the many times she'd
put her own cut finger in her mouth, and found that oddly
reassuring.

Armand was watching her hungrily, his eyes
lusty beneath a furrowed brow. With more confidence, she placed one
hand on the smooth contour of his pec, and the other on his muscled
shoulder. Capturing a newly released blood droplet with her tongue,
she traced its trail until her mouth covered the incision.

Following Armand's earlier example, Julia
sucked gently, pulling more of the thick, warm liquid into her
mouth. Armand moaned in response, every muscle in his body tensing.
His blood tasted surprisingly good, and she continued, coaxing more
of the fluid out with soft pulls of her tongue.

Straddling his thigh, her hand pressed firmly
against his chest, she clutched his arm to keep him close. His body
rocked with pleasure, his abs contracting in a ripple of muscle,
his cock huge and erect. She wanted to run her hand down the length
of his cock and stroke out the release he was so close to. Or
better, she could just slip her leg over his other thigh, and ride
him to climax while his blood seeped into her mouth.

"Julia." The whisper of her name rolling from
his lips in that deep, decadent drawl sent a wave of pleasure
through her body just as her sex brushed against the top of his
leg. The light touch was enough to send another orgasm chasing the
nerves up her spine.

Pulling her mouth from his chest, he
forcefully met it with his, and sucked the last bit of blood from
her lips. "I have to be inside you. Now."

"Yes," she breathed. "Please."

He kissed her one last time, hard and with
just enough roughness to excite her even more. "Mmmmm, turn
around." His voice was low and thick, his hands firm as they moved
her into a kneeling position. She obeyed happily and without
resistance, leaning forward and clasping the black, wood slatted
headboard. It was refreshing to have a man take charge and actually
be good at it.

Kneeling behind her, he raked his fingers
down her back and over her hips, gripping at the soft flesh.
Starting at the curve where her ass met her lower back, he kissed,
licked and bit his way to her shoulders. Locking his fingers in her
hair, he tilted her head, exposing the side of her neck and running
his tongue over it.

"Bite me," she whispered.

He just groaned. Releasing her hair and
resuming his grip on her hips, he slid his cock smoothly into her.
She was more than ready, and her body accepted the length without
resistance.

"God. Damn," he grunted.

He filled her perfectly, and every slow
stroke lit millions of nerves on fire. She matched his rhythm,
countering the motion with the rock of her hips. His thrusting
intensified and he wrapped one arm around her chest, pulling her
off the headboard and into his grasp. Pressing his cheek against
the side of her head, his lips lingered at her ear, murmuring deep,
throaty sighs.

Tilting her head, she exposed the side of her
neck to him again. "Bite me," she repeated, pushing her hips harder
into him.

She heard his mouth open, but he only
tightened his grip on her chest, and deepened his thrusts.

Her pleasure was beginning to crest. She just
needed one last thing. "Armand," she begged, "bite me."

"Fuck," he growled from somewhere deep in his
chest.

The pain was intense but brief as his teeth
sunk into her. It was completely forgotten as her orgasm crashed
into his. She cried out as the pleasure consumed her and set her
body on fire. It seemed to last hours, and by the time the ripples
subsided, she was dizzy and light headed.

She could feel Armand's thumping heart
against her back as she leaned heavily against the headboard for
support. Everything felt perfect, his skin against hers, his spicy
scent, the sound of his rapid breathing.

"Damnit! Julia, I'm so sorry."

"Hmmmm?" She felt drunk in the afterglow, and
his words sounded fuzzy.

"I didn't mean to break the skin." He touched
her neck with tender fingers. "Shit, you're bleeding."

"Mmmmmm. It's okay."

"No, it isn't," he insisted firmly. "And I
was worried about losing control
last
night," he murmured
with a hint of disgust. His fingers probed her neck. "At least it
looks like I didn't do any permanent damage."

Her head was starting to de-fuzz. Barely.
"Really, Armand, it's okay. I wanted you to."

"You said bite, not tear into you like some
animal. Let me clean you up." He left the bed and her body felt
frigid without the heat of his touch.

Julia sat back with a thump, putting the
headboard and one of many soft pillows scattered on the bed behind
her. She couldn't quite figure out why he was so upset over
breaking the skin. He'd cut her earlier with a scalpel, how was
this any different?

Unless, like the common vampire myth,
vampirism could be spread through a bite.

So, did that make it a virus? Maybe she
should just ask.

Except his face was lined with concern when
he returned with a medical kit. There'd be time to ask later. She
didn't want to upset him any more than he already was. It wasn't
like she'd never considered what it would be like to actually
become a vampire. There seemed to be quite a few perks. She might
be willing to give up sunlight to enjoy them.