Chapter Seventeen – Jack
Chapter Seventeen
Jack
I stepped in to kiss her again, pressing her against the door, and this time I let my hands search her body, feeling the satin stretched over her hips and down her thighs.
I reached for its edges, kissing her hard as I hauled her skirt up, and found her stockings clipped to garters, with no underwear beneath, just a strip of finely trimmed dark hair—discovering that made it feel like I was opening up someone else’s present.
I pulled back, licked my fingers, and reached down to circle her clit and tease at the edges of her pussy, feeling it part for me as she moaned, rolling her head back as I fingered her. I started kissing her neck and asking questions. “Here? The table? The bed?”
“Not the bed. The bed he’ll know,” she gasped out as I dipped two fingers inside her.
“The table it is then,” I said. I pulled my fingers out of her slowly—and then picked her up by her waist, carrying her and spinning us until her ass was against it’s cool marble top.
She gasped as it touched her skin, then reached behind herself to untie and unzip her top, making its green satin spill across her thighs.
I pushed her knees wide. This table was the perfect height.
I rocked my hips in towards hers—and then sank down.
I needed to be fed—I needed to be sure I would be fed—and there was no way more certain than eating a woman out. I spread her wide with my hands and started kissing her where the trail of fur ended.
“Oh fuck,” she whispered, rocking back on the table, twining one hand in my hair.
She set her gartered thighs on my shoulders and locked her ankles against my back, surrounding me with her.
I purred, and guarding my teeth with my lips, took her clit in, sucking at it like I was pulling the juice from a peach.
She made a high pitched whine at that and her hips started to squirm as her ass clenched and pulsed, rocking herself against my mouth.
I kept rolling my tongue against her clit, grinding my chin in, pulling her labia wide so she’d feel full even though she wasn’t.
Behind me, her calves clenched and her feet kicked, and I knew I had found her spot, I could feel the sensations race through her every time my tongue pressed her there, and she started just to curse, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” like it was an incantation, urging me on.
She was so close there was no way I would stop now, even if her man walked in, I would just whammy him into silent forgiveness.
I was eating her out like my life depended on it, because in some small way it did—her voice rose, the hand in my hair tightened, and her legs went tense and still and then—her body thrashed against the marble as she shouted, her ass bucking her hips into my mouth as she cried out, again and again.
The life of her orgasm washed out of her in a wave that splashed through me. I followed all her writhing with my mouth and tongue, trying to drink up every drop, as she fell into spasmodic shudders.
“Oh,” she said, finally relaxing, sliding her legs off of my shoulders like she was dismounting a horse. “Oh my,” she breathed again, barely sitting up.
“Was that what you needed?” I asked her, kissing the inside of her thigh. Her breasts were visible now, and I hadn’t even gotten to touch or kiss them. There was so much of her body left to explore.
“Yes,” she breathed, looking down at me, her eyes glazed with pleasure.
Technically, I’d had enough—I could make it through the night easy, until I went hunting later with Paco—but looking up at her I couldn’t help myself. I kissed her thigh again and asked, “Do you want more?”
She silently nodded.
“Good. Because God—I want to be inside you,” I said, rising to a stand. I undid my belt and pushed down enough of my jeans to free myself, pulling on a condom quickly. “You’re not the only one who has someplace else to be tonight. So I’m sorry if this is fast—”
“Shut up and fuck me,” she said, a command.
I grinned at her, then grabbed her hips and slid her over her dress to me, reaching between us to tilt myself down, thrusting into her hard.
I knew she was wet enough to take me, but her tightness came as a surprise to us both. She moaned, letting her jaw drop further as I pulled her hips forward, sealing myself inside of her. “Oh God, yes, please,” she said, and I started to stroke.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, to hold on as I thrust and rocked her back and forward, feeling my cock plunge in and out of her.
She made high sounds with every stroke, and her body ground against mine, her stocking’d legs winding around me once again, her breasts bobbing in perfect time.
I kissed her savagely, her neck, her ears, her throat, finally tasting those breasts as I leaned her down, sucking and pinching her nipples hard, and the rose fell from her hair, giving up.
I felt her hips wind and tense, and she rocked back, holding herself up now with her arms from behind, casting her head back, the bouquet of roses behind her looking like the halo of a radiant saint.
“Oh Jack, fuck me, fuck me,” she pleaded as her hips pulsed.
I growled, and lowered my whole body over hers until she collapsed and I could reach the table’s far side, making her take every inch of me, the vase over our heads teetering with each thrust. She gasped deeply, and then her lips opened in a silent scream as she came for me a second time, her body wracked by rough waves as her nails clawed my back.
I paused for a moment, letting myself absorb her life, feeling it fill me—and then I was pounding her again, claiming her, taking her like she was mine. I finished myself inside her, coming hard with a guttural growl until all my heat spilled out.
I held myself up over her, breathing hard, as she swept locks of sweaty hair away.
“That was good,” she whispered, like her man could be coming down the hall.
“It was,” I agreed, daring one last kiss. Then I pulled out and went to the bathroom to flush away the condom—and by the time I got back, she was naked, except for her garter belt, stockings, and a cell phone.
“His flight won’t be here till morning time now. Stay with me?”
This was the hazard of giving humans what they wanted. “Camila,” I warned.
She turned and yanked out one of the roses from the vase to hand to me. “Come on. It’s like one of those bachelor shows. I choose you. Spend the night?” She smiled winningly at me. “We can even get room service on his tab. Caviar? Definitely wine.”
“If I could, I would, believe me,” I said, taking the rose from her hand, because she offered it.
She gasped as I did so—the florist had missed clipping a thorn, and there was a bright red drop on her thumb. She held it out to me with a pout, and for a moment the world narrowed to just that one drop of delicious blood, reminding me what I had to do and why I couldn’t stay.
“I’m sorry. I can’t,” I said, stepping back and shaking my head.
Her pout intensified. “You’re not leaving me for a blonde, are you?”
“Not hardly.”
She was a little shorter now without the heels, but still divine, and I wanted to ask for her number, but my policy was generally to let the girl ask me.
I didn’t need to chase people who didn’t want me—and I didn’t need to give random humans trouble.
“This was,” I began, looking around for a gentle escape.
“The best sex of your life,” she finished for me, and then walked over to the door. She opened it up for me with her good hand, sucking the blood off of the other’s thumb, as she stood behind it, proudly naked.
I was never going to see her again. She didn’t need to know how much competition she had—or how long my life would be. “Definitely,” I agreed. “I’ll keep an eye out for you in the movies,” I said, as I stepped into the hall.
“You’d better.” And because she knew the coast behind me was clear, she stood in front of the open door, daring me to resist her. Between her youth and beauty and attitude—and the twin scents of sex and blood—it was almost, but not quite, impossible.
“Good-bye, Camila,” I said, nodding, and then turned and walked away, determined not to look back.
Whoever her lover was—he had his hands full.