Chapter 8 #4
His cock jutted out hard and thick and beaded with want, as thick as her wrist and hard as anything she'd ever had the instant need to reach out and stroke.
He had to be eight or nine inches long and there was no way all of that would fit inside her, no way she could even think she was ready for something that size.
At the same time her body was responding, anxious and eager, making her wetter and slicker and hotter and more open. She reached for him, pulling him down to the bed on top of her and he said something she wouldn't have ever expected Vampyren to say: "I don't want to hurt you."
"I don't want to be hurt." She licked at his mouth and felt a laugh go through him this time. "But I want you inside me."
He kissed her then. "When I start."
She thought he might not finish what he had begun to say but he breathed out. "I may not be able to stop. Even if I hurt you."
So no safe word, she thought, a little wildly. She didn't say it. She didn't want to confuse or slow him.
She just wanted him.
"Please," she said.
He laid her back on the bed, and followed her down, his body eclipsing hers. He positioned himself between her legs, watching her face, kissing her mouth, her jaw, her breasts.
But when the tip of his cock found her entrance, he pushed into her without stopping even as she cried out and her body fought him.
Inexorable, not unkind but somehow not there, he pushed into her, his hips pushing him in, and in, and in.
Kiera's body throbbed and screamed the way it had when she was a seventeen year old virgin, her first time in the back of Cory Ridhouse's Toyota truck hand-me-down, the moon above them and Kiera feeling like she was going to split in two.
This time it really seemed like a possibility and she was starting to panic, to want to free herself, asking why she'd done this, when suddenly the pressure eased and the pain, all at once, became the most intense pleasure she'd ever known.
The instant the pain fled she slid further beneath him, cocked her hips up and wrapped her legs around his lower back.
Sensing the difference, he dug deeper into her, took up a rhythm and began to thrust into her, deep and slow and constant, so the pleasure coiled in her.
In her stomach, between her legs, her clit brushed him with every move, her breasts against his chest, his tongue in her ear or his breath in her hair, his arms holding him just far enough above her so she could breathe.
Her own hands traced designs on his back, her fingernails raked his skin, she ran her hands into his hair, she balled the sheets in her fists.
The orgasm grew from every point in her body, from ears, and nipples, and fingertips and clit, all of it rushing together until she spilled over the edge and came, pulsing, clit exploding, her hot, wet core pulsing and sucking him in with every heartbeat-echoing spasm.
Then she lay under him, feeling him empty himself deep inside her, his back arched, his head thrown back, his arms straining. He came, and the moment seemed endless.
When he was drained he toppled off her to the side, lay breathing hard, reaching even then to rest one hand across her stomach, the two of them wet with sweat, hers, she thought, it seemed unlikely he sweated, but his skin was warmer now, as if he'd taken something away with him from their encounter.
They lay together, breathing hard, as outside the snow blanketed the city and insane vampires killed and humans ran and nothing was right or under control.
For just a little while, Kiera didn't care.
When she woke, having slept, trusting and stupid, in his arms, he was watching her. Kiera surprised herself by blushing.
He ran a finger from her forehead down the length of her nose, then touched her lower lip. "There's something I have to tell you."
She instantly stiffened waiting for the worst. Like she was pregnant and he knew it. Or she couldn't get pregnant and her life was now forfeit.
Or something worse?
"What?"
"Your father," he started and she froze, afraid to breathe. He didn't seem to notice because he didn't hurry, just said thoughtfully, "They're interested in his illness."
She sat up then, clutching a blanket around her shoulders and over her breasts. "Who are interested in what about his illness?" Her teeth chattered in the sudden cold as she pulled away from him.
"Scientists," he said. "They're the same in every culture, I promise you. They do not care that your father is human. They are simply interested in his sickness. What's it called again?"
"Leukemia." Just saying it made her feel sick.
"Right," he said, as if he'd been testing her. "The blood disease." He met her eye. "For obvious reasons we are very interested in blood." Then he studied her, seeming confused by her panic.
"They won't hurt him, will they?"
"No, they'll study him. And then they'll help him. For your father, this may be the best thing that ever happened to him."
Given that his daughter was lying naked beside an alien invader she'd just had sex with, while being held in something called The Crèche in case a space vampire wanted to impregnate her?
She rather doubted her father would believe this was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He was funny that way.