I swallow. “I don’t know.”
“Would you like me to touch you?”
I can’t deny it. “Yes…”
“Yes…?”
“Yes, sir.”
She props herself up with one elbow, and with the other arm, she reaches down and caresses my thigh. Her fingers are chilly, and a shiver runs up my spine. But I like it. Her touch is assertive, but tender.
“And would you like me to…kiss you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Her mouth finds a spot below my ear, so sensitive right after her bite, and she kisses me. I can feel the sharp edge of her fangs against my skin.
She whispers throatily in my ear, “And would you like me tofuckyou?”
“Oh,” I gasp, feeling weak again. “Yes, please, my king…”
I spread my legs wide for her, shocked at my own eager willingness, the power of this all-encompassing need. She wastes no time, bringing her hand up under the thin material of my satin dress.
But then, it’s her eyes that widen. There’s a greedy, pleased expression on her face.
“No panties,” she whispers.
I’m overwhelmed with joy to have pleased her. When I dressed tonight, I’d been thinking about her, and now I’m very glad I decided not to wear any underwear. “For…foryou, sir…ah…”
Her fingers have found me quickly, capturing the already-sensitive, already-perfectly erect bud of my desire deftly and teasing me. She immediately knows how to touch me, how to work me. I feel like I’m being pulled under a powerful current.
“What,” I gasp. “What are you…doingto me?”
She laughs, a crisp, cruel note that rings throughout the crypt. “Do you like how I touch you, sweet one? Tell me.”
I moan. Her fingers dance around my throbbing clit, working up a tempo, then, tantalizingly, slowing down just as my pleasure builds. “Yes,yes, I do…pleasedon’t stop…”
“Good girl,” she says, her eyes flashing dominantly. “Tell me what you like.”
When she calls me a good girl, I’m flooded with pleasure, and I come in a crashing wave that pulses through my entire body. She slows, running her fingers lightly over me to draw out my orgasm even further.
My muscles contract, and I feel heady and woozy, but she doesn’t stop touching me.
I’venevercome like that, definitely not with anyone else. I didn’t know it was possible to feel that way.
But there’s a shimmer in her eyes.
“How long do you need?” she asks. “In between?”
I blink up at her. “Um, in between?”
She cocks her head, her dark hair spilling into her glowing eyes. “Wheredid you come from?” she whispers, looking at me as thoughshe’s seeing me for the first time, all over again.
Then she moves her fingers lower, finding a spot tantalizing close to my opening, sensitive and tender, and she teases it. It’s like a button, revving me back up again, sending a full-body quiver through me.
“Ohgod,” I moan.
“That’s right,” she purrs.
