Chapter Nine – Jack #2
When he’d caught his breath again he rose up on one elbow, facing me, stroking a line up and down my chest to my stomach. My erection sank and subsided, leaving me with a panging ache. “So what’s going on?” he asked.
“Can’t a guy just need some blood some times?”
He smiled down at me, then leaned in for a fast kiss. “Not when that guy’s you.”
I stared up at the tastefully vaulted ceiling overhead.
“A friend of mine got into some trouble. And died. Because of me.” I told him all about Bella, how we’d fucked and then she’d wanted me to spend the night to protect her.
He groaned at that, knowing who I was—and groaned even more once I told him she’d been murdered after I’d gone.
He stopped petting me. “You know that’s not your fault, Jack, right?”
“It sure as hell feels like it.”
“You couldn’t have stayed.”
“I know. But—I still feel responsible.” I twisted my head to face his. “And I’m still going to punish whoever did it. As soon as I find out who they are.”
Paco’s dark eyes searched mine, and his hand on me started up again, stroking lower and lower. “And here I was, hoping you’d spend the night.”
“Sorry to disappoint you. Again.”
“Jack, you’re a hell of a lot of things.
But you’ve never been a disappointment.” And his hand reached down to ring my soft cock and I gasped gently.
Then he leaned over and kissed me, first my eyes, then my nearest cheekbone, and licked my lips to let his tongue inside.
My lips parted just as my cock stirred—his fingertips were stroking the edge around my head, feeling me, exploring me, just as he stopped kissing my mouth and started working his way down my neck.
It was my turn to whisper his name. “Paco.” Why hadn’t I come inside him?
He’d wanted me to—I’d wanted me to. I hadn’t even bitten him yet and—his hips rocked against mine as his hand around my cock pulled it firmly—possessively—and that was it.
I’d already lost one person close to me—in the cat-like way of closeness I allowed myself, now that I was this.
If I was, as Bella had so often claimed, bad luck, I couldn’t stand it if anything of me harmed Paco.
His mouth was at my collarbone, kissing me where I wanted to bite him. “Paco,” I warned again.
“Shut up, Jack,” he murmured from against me.
“I know you.” His moving hand sank to stroke my balls and rub the soft spot between my ballsack and my asshole—and the hunger rose in me and—I twisted toward him, bringing his face up to mine with both hands to kiss hard.
He purred as my body pressed against him, my cock rising up between us like a cobra.
I pushed it down as I lowered myself, my skin sliding on his still slick with sweat, needing to angle myself into him again.
I grabbed his top leg and pulled it high over my hips, then cupped his ass as he thrust toward me and my cock sank into velvet again.
He moaned as I pushed in, and my cock felt like it was home. “God, Paco.”
“I know,” he said, rocking off and on.
It was impossible not to look at him this way, to see the earnest intensity of his eyes, how much he trusted me, how much he knew I’d always make him feel good—even if it hurt a little along the way.
I kissed him then, under his jaw, against his chest, anywhere I could taste him, I craved it almost as much as I craved blood—
But not quite.
The hunger—I could feel my own blood rushing inside my veins, as much as I could feel his, it was like our hearts were timed, counting the same beats as my cock fucked his ass—my fangs descended and I panted, “I’m gonna,” I warned.
“Do it,” he said—and I did.
On an upward thrust, as I was claiming his ass again, I bit down.
There was an art to it, I didn’t want to damage him, I only wanted him open—as open to my mouth as his ass was to my cock.
I bit down, then latched on, clutching him bodily, feeling him spasm with the pain even as he knew it was coming, then the taste of his hot, hot blood spilling into my mouth, so indescribably intense—my cock got so hard in him it felt like it might burst if I didn’t come right then and—
For a perfect moment we were like some holy circuit, me drinking life out of him while I pounded more life in, my cum shooting deep with each thrust and spasm—and I went somewhere else.
That place you only reach at the peak of certain highs, when you feel invulnerable, when talking to God and flying seem possibly real, a sharp clarity on everything in life—and then I sank back to Paco’s couch again, where his hands were clenched tight, one in my hair, the other on my ass, him grinding himself against me, until he moaned and spasmed around my softening cock.
“Good,” I whispered, knowing he’d cum again—I could smell its earthy scent and felt the heat of it between us as it tried to stick us together though our breaths fell out of sync.
I lifted my head up from his neck, my lips rimed with his blood. “Thanks.”
He looked down at me, his own eyes glazed. “You’re welcome,” he said, and I sank my head back down.