Vampyre Bride ✔️

XXX⎮In The Claws Of The Dragon

In this position, and with her hands now unbound, she was at liberty finally to bury her fingers in the dark beauty of his wings, savoring each luxuriant blade that encompassed his celestial adumbration. Markus, meanwhile, had caught her lips in a deep and fervid kiss, effacing her shattered thoughts altogether. But they were not to remain lost in the maelstrom surging around them.

The painful sting of white hot heat at her core — as of a bolt of lightening — ripped her from the dizzying beauty of the kiss. She gave a hiss of surprise and attempted to push him away, but he stilled her, his arms and torso like unyielding marble. He soothed at her neck with gentle fingers, brushed her damp hair out of the way, and whispered dark promises into her ear that ensorcelled her heart and quieted the pain some small degree. His silken pike she, in her delirium, had felt only a brief threatening moment before he'd thrust it home. Merciful Heaven, it hurt as nothing else!

"And now," said he, "for the kiss you crave most of all..." Ere his words had cut through the fog in her head, he swiftly latched his mouth to her throat and bit down. Hard.

Emma made no sound, save a heartfelt gasp, as his fangs penetrated with keen efficacy. Near as deep, she was sure, as that painful shaft yet embedded below — the cost of her blood now twofold demanded. However, the throbbing at her center subsided gradually as he drew steadily, ravenously, from her open vein, the wounds, both above and below, strangely benumbed by his sharp dark kiss. That she could find even a drop of ecstasy in such savagery was inconceivable, but such was the case. And from him she would have drawn blood also, but her nails, long and honed as they were, indented his flesh not even a little. Her nails were no match for granite, such as his seemed to be. Still, he gave an appreciative growl as she raked his back with hearty feline sighs and rhapsodies.

A signal, evidently, for the next movement of their dance, for he then began guiding her hips back and forth in long strokes that only indurated his flesh the more, and, likewise, spiked her own fever to ever higher peaks. It was with glorious affinity that they moved against one another — as though her body had been born specifically to fit his. The lusty rhythm of her heart, neither exhausted nor depleted by his ravening vampyre kiss, seemingly aroused his formidable appetence still more. How it was that his insatiability sustained her own mindless fervor she could not fathom, but it did. In that moment she would have died the happiest of women if he'd drank every last drop of lifeblood gushing hotly from her vein. A ferocious and forbidden coupling it was indeed. The carnal mutualism of a predator and his most ardent prey.

She was glutted on pleasure, the sweet delirium having once more swelled and coiled erratically within. The thunderous beats of her heart, the sound of his greedy breaths, and the fervent gale of his wings served as a beatific concert of their earthly union. Not even the storm that had battered the castle only hours before had raged with such passion as passed betwixt Emma and Markus.

With a mighty roar the denouement came, and he snapped his head back, releasing her throat whilst she herself unraveled around him, falling into him. She was obliterated and drained by an ineffable crash so fierce it shook her very soul.

It was during the amatory after-ripples that she felt herself being lowered back down to the mattress, her body wonderfully and indescribably limp as his weight settled beside her. Beneath closed lids she felt him nuzzle her neck with lapping kisses, so tender was her inamorato that she uttered a contented sigh, enjoying the feel of his finger as it gently traced her grimalkin smile.

"I almost forgot..." said he, lifting her hand to press the flesh of her inner wrist to his wolfish smile.

"Hmm?" she murmured, too deliriously sated to care one way or the other about what it was he'd overlooked. Far too abstracted to acknowledge the gnawing detail of his fangs lying just above her veins. Her mind was far more pleasurably engaged, namely her eager deflowering. And to have surrendered that which can be only once lost, that most sanguinary of jewels, Emma ought to have felt bereft, but she didn't. Not in the least. Her virtue she had gladly cast aside forever. There was a sort of freedom here in his arms and she relished it.