Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Xanthe's POV
When I was twenty-two, I made the decision to chase after money and the power it brought.
But as I stared up at the glowing blue sign of Bloodlust Nightclub, a pit of anxiety formed in my stomach.
This place, run by humans and frequented by vampires, was the biggest club in Las Vegas, raking in cash like it was going out of style.
Nervousness had a way of playing with my life, a persistent undercurrent that slowed my heart while the frantic search for cash sent it racing. It was like a corporate elevator packed to the brim—moving fast, but feeling unbearably heavy.
Squirt? Dispense?
Those were requests I'd never encountered in my three years of working under the club's blue lights, surrounded by these pale, hunger-filled faces.
Sure, I was pale too—hence my nickname, Snow Bunny—but unlike those insatiable vampires, I wasn't about to hop into anyone's garden and make my life a living hell.
The notion of squirt in her blood wine left my eyes wide with disbelief, as if gravity was the only thing keeping them from popping out of my head.
I'd never squirted before. How could my human body possibly do that?
Maybe these pale creatures were onto something that involved steroids, or perhaps they were just delusional.
Jager's face remained impassive, her demand still etched into her features. Squirt in my wine. I swallowed hard, bracing myself in case all that emerged was a pathetic dribble.
"I'm sorry, Jager," I stammered, my voice barely a whisper.
"But I don't know how to do that... humanely.
" I knew it could be done; I'd overheard a few of the girls—vampires, naturally—gossiping about how their partners had some exceptional skills in bed.
As for us humans? We were heavy-hearted and kind, but there were limits to what we could do.
Squirting felt like one of those mythical, mysterious acts of sex—something you only believe in once it happens to you. Sure, I knew I was surrounded by vampires, where all things supernatural thrived, but squirting? That was a different story.
Jager smirked at me with a glint of superiority, that radiance suggesting she knew the secret to making me squirt. The curiosity gnawed at me; could my body actually perform such miracles? It felt like having Jesus Christ himself standing around, promising the impossible.
"I don't do extra service," I said firmly, even though my heart sank at the thought of passing up that tip. "But I can get Sparkles." Sparkles was my coworker—if I could call her that.
She was the ultimate multitasker, working the pole, serving drinks, and indulging a few metaphorically dead cocks—not that they were actually dead, just undead—since vampires were technically in that limbo.
She could spread her legs and offer up her squirt like a pro.
So, she'd be the dispenser for the night.
But Jager's face twisted into defiance at the mention of Sparkles. I couldn't help but smirk. She wanted me, and that made me feel special. Reaching out, I could almost feel the warmth of money radiating from her—a kind that made me feel like I was holding corporate power in my hands.
"Do you want me to get her?"
Her hands suggested otherwise, diving into her pockets to retrieve yet another stack of cash. It was like her black jacket had an infinite supply of money—she just kept pulling it out. This was the third time she had fished for bills, and it seemed her pocket was a bottomless pit.
"Only your liquid should be in my juice. After all, I came just for you, snowflakes." Her fingers grazed over my hand, a feather-light touch that sent sparks of energy dancing between us.
"You came for me?" I asked, disbelief lacing my voice.
"You heard me. No?"
"Why?"
"Your actions should tell me why. So why don't you just get to pulling up and bless my drink with your nectar?"
"I'm sorry, I don't offer extra service."
She tsked, cutting me off. "You shouldn't have to explain, really. What you should be doing is looking at this money and considering a compromise for me, snow angel." Her hand, adorned with intricate tattoos, traced delicate patterns over my body.
"I want you to let me please you and be my little personal dispenser." Her large hand rested on my stomach, a possessive gesture that sent shivers through me. "Such a beautiful stomach—fuck, if I ever catch you..."
"Catch me?"
"In my bed."
"I would never be in your bed."
"I'm not your type."
"Exactly, pale face." I snarled, feeling a rush of defiance.
With her striking looks, I could only imagine she had no trouble 'catching' girls in her bed.
But not me. Not tonight. Though I had to admit, the tip she was offering looked mighty tempting.
For one night, I could be her little dispenser. I doubted I'd ever see her again.
Usually, vampires came here for a taste of the infamous club experience.
It was the first club to get licensed for human girls to milk themselves for money, and it was big business.
Vampires were tired of drinking animal blood behind dumpsters, and this place used to have long lines.
It still did, but only on weekends, which I assumed was what kept it afloat.
Competition in Las Vegas was fierce and had nearly knocked Mr. Cloney out of business.
I lifted my skirt, wobbling closer than intended, my body nearly pressing against her non-beating chest—actually dead at heart.
It was surprising how she even ended up here.
Vampire history was a topic we covered in class, but anyone could tell I hadn't been paying attention.
Something about humans endlessly chattering about vampires always felt so brainwashed to me.
Conspiracy theories swirled around the idea that human governments had brainwashed us, perhaps putting us in some trance, to allow vampires to roam freely and wield powers like this. Now, I found myself with no choice but to be her dispenser.
She tightened the skirt around my waist, her fingers gliding over my warm skin, a stark contrast that sent a shiver through me. As her fingers slid between my coconut cream complexion, I sensed her hypnotic fascination, yet her touch lingered just shy of my most sensitive areas.
My pussy throbbed with nervousness, mirroring my anxiety. I held eye contact with her friend—nameless and mute. She hadn't uttered a word, her expression unyielding as she watched with an inscrutable gaze. While she savored her wine, it was clear she wasn't the greedy type, unlike Jager.
Suddenly, I gasped as I felt Jager's fingers slip inside me.
My gaze remained locked on her silent companion, and I felt my knees begin to buckle like a brittle twig.
Jager's fingers moved with a speed I could hardly comprehend, probing and exploring.
My eyes widened as she hooked her fingers inside me, the vampire's supernatural speed sending sensations racing through my body.
I had no choice but to acknowledge just how fast those fingers were moving.
I moaned in pleasure as her fingers struck a sensitive spot that sent shockwaves through my body, forcing me to squeeze my stomach in response.
"Don't squeeze your stomach," she growled, and I noticed Jager's friend tilt her head, suddenly intrigued by the unfolding scene.
"Such a good little bunny, huh? Such an obedient little bunny. About to squirt on my fingers in just under sixty seconds, right?"
That short? I smirked, tightening my grip on my stomach. Jager's hands clutched my waist like a possession she refused to relinquish. While she seemed determined to make me her dispenser, I couldn't deny that the sensations from her fingers felt divine.
"Don't stop me short of what I'm after, bunny," she warned, her tone serious as she squeezed my waist. I clenched my stomach in response, and something far more potent than desire washed over me.
I screamed into the empty quiet, tearing my gaze from her friend, who looked stunned to witness my liquid spray onto Jager's suit.
I shook my head, but her fingers buried themselves inside me again, sending ripples of pleasure through my body.
She coaxed out more squirts until her glass overflowed.
"You've had all that pent-up for years, huh?
" Withdrawing her fingers, I lost feeling in my legs, my world tilting sideways like two tornadoes colliding, trying to make a thousand-year-old tree dance.
She caught me and settled me between her and her friend, and I whimpered, still riding the waves of pleasure she had unleashed. I felt so small between their towering shoulders, which seemed to sandwich me. A low groan escaped Jager, rumbling beneath me, but I couldn't look up just yet.
I was still processing the overwhelming change in my body, tears pooling in my eyes. The tip money would have to dry those later.
"What did you just do?" I looked up at her like a curious little bunny approaching a formidable creature. I longed to hop away, but I had to stay put.
"Get my wine fixed," she muttered darkly, her fingers swirling in the glass just as they had inside me.
She stirred the mixture like a science experiment, then sipped from her concoction, appearing appalled by the taste.
Reaching over my head, she handed the mixture to her nameless friend, who took a long drink, savoring the bizarre blend.
Jager exhaled through her mouth. "Don't take it all, Wade."
Bingo! I had her name. But Wade seemed like the greedy one, having already drained half the glass. She looked down at me, her smooth hand a striking contrast to Jager's inked ones.
"Don't touch me," I growled.
Wade's hand quickly withdrew, and I found it intriguing that she listened to my command without hesitation.
"Don't be so rude, snow bunny," Jager whispered teasingly in my ear.
"I wasn't. I'm just overstimulated."
"Plenty more to come."
I stood abruptly, feeling the need to serve others. "I hope not. I must be on my way." My legs wobbled, almost giving out beneath me. I clutched the table, which creaked under my weight. I was definitely heavier than just two glasses of wine.
"Good night," I said, reaching for the tray of money. I couldn't wait to count it. But Jager's cold grip tightened around my waist, pulling me back. She gently untied my skirt, tugging it up to my bra, transforming it into something resembling a dress.
"Good night, snow bunny."