Chapter 25
25
I t’s taken me until this point to fully immerse myself in the scene. But when faced with Grace’s heartbreaking worries, I sink into my dominant role to stop myself from tracking down every single person who contributed to her insecurities and rip out their throats. I’ve been hungry for Grace this whole time, but the ache to seek vengeance has made my monster bloodthirsty.
Orgasm denial is one of my favorite things to do as a dominant. It shows that you can read the cues your submissive gives you, and know how to take them as close to the edge as you can before pulling back. Making them so desperate that they’ll beg for release. Holding their pleasure in your grip and deciding if they’re worthy of the relief you can grant .
This isn’t all that different. Grace says her partners have tried to get her off, but from what she’s said in the past, I’m confident they tried out of a sense of obligation or they wanted her to come to supplement their ego.
I’m not like them. I want everything from Grace, not just that fleeting rush of pleasure from an orgasm. I want to catalog every single sigh and moan. The way her body responds to even the most minute changes in my touch. I want her body to sing for me, and it doesn’t fucking matter if that ends in either of us coming.
I would happily spend eternity learning Grace. She’s worth all the time in the world.
Could I make her come, despite her protests? Yes. She’s coiled up so tight now that the right touches would shove her over the edge, but brute force isn’t my style.
I want her to fight it until she can’t hold back. I want tears to run down her cheeks as she trembles to keep it at bay. And then I want her shocked pleasure and dismay as she shatters.
God, even those thoughts have me on edge, my body as primed for release as Grace’s. I suppress the urge to slip my hand between my legs and rub my clit through the slippery latex.
I wore this catsuit for a reason. Anything easier to get in and out of, and I might’ve pivoted tonight’s scene by placing Grace between my thighs and making her mouth too occupied to say all the nervous thoughts that’ve been pouring out of her. It’s a good thing I enjoy the ache of denying myself as much as I enjoy denying my submissives.
The soft, shuddering sigh Grace releases as I slip two fingers further between her thighs is the sweetest music. I spread my fingers apart to skirt around her clit and rub across her labia, enjoying the tease and slicking my fingers on the wetness I find there. She’s soaked, which I already knew by her glistening thighs, but feeling it for myself is worlds better than looking.
Heady pleasure and satisfaction flood my mind. Her pussy is dripping because of me. Maybe I’m no better than a man, inflating my ego with how easily I can arouse Grace, but it feels like more than that. There’s a pang in my chest that accompanies the pride, a desperate urge to connect with this woman who draws out all my dark and vulnerable pieces.
Can she feel it too? Does she crave that same connection?
When I move closer so I can get the right angle to touch Grace the way I want, her warm breath comes out in stuttering exhales. I bask in her soft gasps as I explore her slick folds, never giving her clit more than a small graze.
Standing with my body pressed to hers, I’m close enough to sink my fangs into Grace’s throat. Her pulse flutters rapidly, triggering the monstrous side of my brain to see her as prey.
She’s at my mercy. She told me she wants me to bite her. I could do it now.
I close my eyes and cut off my breath. Not yet.
The choked moan Grace makes as I finally circle her clit snaps my focus back to what matters. I have to give her what she needs before I allow myself to let go.
“How does that feel?” I ask, sliding my free hand up to cup her breast, eliciting another soft moan.
Grace watches me with hooded eyes. “Good, Mistress. It feels so good.”
I rub her clit, searching her face to see what motion makes her eyelashes flutter. “That’s it, isn’t it?” I ask, as I repeat the motion, softly rolling her clit between two fingers.
“Wh-what?” Grace replies, already having a hard time focusing on anything other than my steady stroking of her clit .
I lean in and press my lips to the shell of her ear. “This is how you touch yourself. When your needy little pussy is weeping at the thought of me making you mine.”
“ Fuck ,” she gasps, “Y-yes, Mistress.”
“You really think that I wouldn’t know how to make you come again and again?” I pull back and level her with my gaze. “I’m in control, pet.” I hope the reminder will continue to keep the worries about her ability to orgasm at bay. “Your only job is to take what I choose to give you, and thank me for the privilege of receiving it.”
I give her nipple a rough pinch, hard enough that she cries out and her hips buck against my hand. “What do you say, pet?”
“Thank y-you, Mistress.”
“Good girl.” I remove my hand from between her legs, and lock eyes with her as I lift my fingers and lick her wetness off of them. I fight a groan at her taste. Fuck, I need more.
I brought the vibrator tonight to aid in my torture, but something shifts in my brain as her sweet, tangy taste coats my tongue. I drop to my knees between her spread legs and lap at the slick arousal dripping down one thigh, then move to the other.
“Blair!” Grace gasps, squirming as my tongue trails along her inner thighs until I reach her glistening pussy. I grab a greedy handful of her ass, pressing her hips forward and holding her in place as I flick her clit with my tongue.
“Oh my god, this can’t be real,” she says, and I look up from my place buried between her thighs to make sure she’s okay.
The sight I find is pure debauchery. Grace’s trembling, flushed body bound to the cross as her mouth hangs open with panting breaths, eyes shimmering with a mixture of disbelief and desire.
“This is fucking real,” I say, my voice rough. I don’t wait for a reply before going back between her thighs to eat her pussy like a starving woman .
I experiment until I find what makes her legs shake, and repeat it again and again, working her cunt with my tongue and lips until she’s moaning my name in a constant stream. I press two fingers inside her and she cries out, hips bucking wildly.
“Fuck, Blair, I’m going to…”
I pull my mouth from her immediately. Grace gasps in confusion and frustration. “I told you. You’re not allowed to come.”
The stunned way she looks down at me tells me she didn’t think I was serious.
“You’re not really going to… Ah!” Grace jolts as I rub the fingers still inside her against the front wall of her channel.
She’ll learn that I never joke about that sort of thing.
“Do you want to use your safeword, pet?” I ask.
“N-no. Oh god.”
I lick my lips and grin up at her before giving her clit a flick with my tongue, and she gasps again. “Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yes, Blair. I mean, Mistress! Please. I’ll be good.”
I know she will be, and that makes her inevitable failure to follow my command that much more exciting.
I bring Grace to the edge again with my tongue and fingers, stopping when she warns me she’s about to come. Then I do it a third time with only my fingers so I can watch the agonized expressions of pleasure cross her face as I build her up.
When tears begin to slide down her cheeks, leaving dark mascara trails in their wake, and my fangs ache so badly that I’m trembling, I quickly undo the cuffs on her ankles and wrists, then guide her over to sit on the couch.
I stroke her tear stained cheek with my thumb, and Grace holds my gaze, her eyes pleading. She whimpers as I kneel between her thighs one last time, knowing this is the time she’ll break .
I let my fangs graze against her inner thigh, a warning of what’s to come, before sucking her on her clit.
“Blair, please, please, I can’t, please,” Grace babbles, her hands gripping the edge of the couch. She’s such a good girl, not reaching out to hold me where she needs me despite all my torture.
“You’ve done so well for me, Grace,” I say, pulling back in a feeble last effort to clear my mind before I give my monster what it’s screaming at me to take.
She must see the need in my eyes, because she nods. “I want it. Please. Do it,” Grace says between gasping breaths. We both know she doesn’t mean her orgasm.
I lick her inner thigh once, then strike. My fangs pierce into her tender flesh with ease and I barely register Grace’s gasping cry of pain and pleasure as my bite triggers her release, because the second her blood hits my tongue, my vision whites out.
I was wrong.
Oh god, I was so wrong.
This is nothing like the night after I was turned. That was feral, dark hunger.
This is… Fuck . How will I ever go back after knowing that this exists?
I groan against Grace’s thigh as a pulsing ecstasy like nothing I’ve ever felt floods my body. I can’t tell if I’m coming or having an out-of-body experience as I swallow my first mouthful of Grace’s blood. She tastes exactly like her scent. Sweet and tart decadence. Nostalgia. Sunlight and safety.
I take another pull, greedy for more of the euphoric bliss that is drinking from Grace.
She groans, and her hand comes down to thread in my hair and tightens. Shit, she needs me to stop.
Not yet. Please, just a little longer .
It’s a monumental task to release my bite, but I do it. There’s no frenzy or anger from the monster inside me at my withdrawal, only pure, desperate longing.
I try to pull back to look up at Grace and make sure she’s not horrified by the reality of being bitten by a vampire, but the hand in my hair holds me in place and she spreads her thighs open a little wider with a breathy whine.
Oh.
I lick at the twin puncture wounds, nicking my tongue to use a drop of my blood to close them, then move to lave at her clit with firm strokes.
“Blair. Oh shit, B-Blair, that’s so good… f-fuck ,” Grace says, her voice hoarse and trembling.
I press two fingers inside her, working her g-spot as I lavish her clit with my tongue until she’s close to coming again.
“More. Do it again. Please,” she gasps. I wait for her to fall over the edge from my fingers and tongue this time, biting her other thigh right as she starts to come.
God, I swear I can taste her orgasm in her blood as her pussy clenches hard against my fingers and continues to pulse in time with each drag I take from her. Her pleasure slams into me and my own unstoppable release overtakes me. My fingers dig into the back of Grace’s legs as I moan against her thigh over and over, the sweet tangy mixture of her blood and pussy the most exquisite thing I’ve ever tasted.
Only when Grace shudders and her tight grip on my hair releases do I remove my fangs. This time I lick the wound, but don’t use my blood to make it vanish. I don’t want to remove the evidence of how she begged for my bite.
I sit back on my heels, head still swimming with pleasure. Grace looks down at me, equally dazed. In the afterglow of this life- altering experience, I’m at a loss for words. All that’s running through my mind is the pleading hope that she felt more than just an orgasm. That she wants me even a fraction as much as I want her.
That, and immense relief that my fear was unfounded. I didn’t lose control.
No, I was more myself than I’ve been since I died. It scares me how much I feel right now.
As all of those thoughts swirl in my mind, I watch Grace’s face for a sign of how she feels. When the post-orgasmic fog fades, a smile spreads across her lips.
“Holy shit, Blair,” she says with a shocked, throaty laugh.
Holy shit is right. I smile back. “I thought I said you weren’t allowed to come.”
Grace laughs harder and shakes her head at me. “Sorry, Mistress. Kinda hard not to come when your domme has an orgasmic vampire bite.”
“Hmm, I’ll forgive it just this once.”
She grins at me and offers me a hand up off the floor. I take it, the small thrill at the connection making my palm tingle.
“Is, uh, the scene over?” Grace asks, shifting to close her legs.
Right. She’s probably going through a myriad of emotions and feels exposed being naked after something so intense. It’s jarring to be reminded that this was a scene, but I hide my reaction with a smile.
“Yes, but stay right there.”
Grace raises a brow at me. “Okay.”
I go to a cabinet in the back of the room and grab the pink blanket I stored inside for tonight, then return and sit next to her on the couch after draping it over her shoulders.
She gives me a shy, breathtaking smile as she touches the soft fabric, but doesn’t make a move to cover herself. Instead, she slides closer to me and holds one end of the blanket out for me. I blink in surprise before taking it. Once it’s draped over me as well, Grace nods. “Right. Okay. So, uh…Sorry, I…”
My heart sinks. Shit, is it already time for her to tell me that she had fun but she doesn’t want to do it again?
“Don’t apologize. We don’t have to do this again. I’d never push you to do something that made you uncomfortable.”
“No! Why the hell do you think that? Ugh, I’m just… I don’t know what to do… This is new for me and I don’t want to ruin things…but, fuck it.” Grace swallows hard. “Can I please kiss you?”
My mouth falls open and my mind goes blank. “What?”
This is a dream. There’s no way she wants that.
“I want to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you tonight. If that’s too weird, I understand, but I?—”
“Yes,” I say, cutting her off before she has the chance to talk herself out of it.
Grace’s blood thrums with excitement in my undead body, the roar of its potent energy almost deafening.
“You sure?” Grace asks, her eyes falling to my lips.
“Kiss me, Grace,” I murmur, hoping that I won’t break whatever spell is woven between us.
She cups my cheek and pulls me closer. Her warm breath ghosts across my lips as she pauses for an excruciating moment of uncertainty. I think she’s going to change her mind. That she’s come to her senses and realized who she’s about to kiss. But then her lips crash into mine and she’s kissing me, and I finally put a name to the sensation I felt as I drank her blood.
Grace feels like home.