Page 12 of Beautiful Nightmare
Looking up at him and his over-six-foot frame to my barely five-foot-one, I make the first move, gripping his face and planting my lips on his.
He hisses, like it stings, but it doesn’t stop me. Our tongues meet, dancing, battling for dominance, and I give in, allowing him to take control. His hands grip my waist, and my legs wrap around him.
“I need you inside of me,” I whisper against his lips, and he wastes no time undoing his pants and sliding into my soaked pussy. We fuck like rabid animals, our movements quick and hard. Neither one of us will last long. Then, just before I come, something out of the ordinary happens. I have a distinct urge to mark him, claim him. To make him fucking mine.
Saliva builds in my mouth, the craving increasing with each passing moment since this thought enters my mind. Bringing my lips to his cool, soft neck, I bite down, deep without hesitation. My teeth sink in and break his thin, delicate skin as my body quivers, releasing all over his cock.
His movements become more feral, and his hard cock pounds into my pussy relentlessly, neither of us refusing to let up. And instead of a metal taste erupting on my taste buds, it’s more salty, which confuses me. His instinctis quick as his senses react, and with a sensual moan into my ear, he whispers, “I’m a vampire, baby. It’s not blood; it’s fucking magic.”
Meaning, blood doesn’t freely flow through him. They drink it to survive but don’t produce it. Regardless, it’s my new favorite addiction.
My teeth release from him as I feel him filling me up, coating my pussy with his cum. At the same time, he begins to lower us to the ground, laying me gently on my back. Pulling out, cum is still shooting out of his cock, landing on my inner thighs as we watch it drip down.
Lowering his head between my legs, he glances up at me, his eyes dark and his smile large with sharp teeth exposed. His eyes never leaving mine, his head continues to move slowly while his lips trace along my exposed skin, teasing me. Goosebumps riddle me as my stomach knots in anticipation. As this beautiful fucking man nips at my flesh, the moonlight catches his canines, allowing them to glisten before they become embedded in my skin.
I’m aroused. Something he can sense as his warm tongue teases my skin. A moan of his own follows, and his eyes roll into the back of his head.
My pussy throbs, needing more while my back arches. His thick, dark hair is too good to resist, so I entangle my fingers through it, encouraging him to never stop as my body vibrates in desire.
“Mine,” I declare, and his eyes look up at me and wink. A mixture of blood and cum runs down his chin, and I know I am keeping him for the rest of my life.
He breaks away from the bite, and I take my fingers from his hair and swipe my thumb along his chin. I want to taste it too.
Slipping my thumb between my swollen lips, I suck back his release mixed with my savory blood, a moan slipping as my soul begs for more of our sweet nectar.
“Beckham.” He shyly introduces himself with hooded eyes filled with lust.
And I share my name in return. “Royce.”
From that night on, there has been no one else. Beckham has my heart and soul, just as I have his. And Prince doesn’t count.
Makeup hides Beckham’s mark, our bond, our eternity together. I will and have done anything and everything to keep him safe. Lying, cheating, and sweet deception included. My foster brother had no idea I was doing so fucking good until now.
Now, fear ripples through my bones, not for me, because I can take whatever he delivers, but for what’s mine, Beckham.
I try to shake all negative thoughts from the forefront of my brain.
Prince is impulsive and obsessive, but he’s notstupid. Anything that may happen won’t be done until he gets me alone.
Glancing, lines to rides build, and as we walk past them, I’m not sure how much time has passed, but we are back on the main cobbled path of Fright Night.
Beckham leans over, softly whispering against my bare shoulder, “I was wondering when you were going to come back to me.”
I smile. “I was just thinking about when we first met.”
My words encourage his smile to grow. “I love you, baby.” His lips pepper kisses on my skin, and I melt.
“Royce!” A deep voice startles me, and I jump. Looking next to me, with my hand on my chest, I see it’s just Jerry.
Jerry is our town’s plumber; the guy knows his pipes. It’s important to note he is also a fairy, or fae, so I’m sure having magic helps with his customer satisfaction. With small pink wings, a faded white crop top, and black acid-washed shorts showing off his curvy, tattooed frame, he flutters next to us.
“Let Agatha know I will stop by tomorrow; the part we were waiting for has arrived.” His excitement for the trade is fascinating and nearly contagious.
I reply, “Absolutely, Jerry.”
Scratching his bald head, he kicks his distressed work boot-clad feet and flies away.
“The guy is a legend, I’m telling you.” Beckham treats Jerry like he’s a hero. Always have. Like I said, it’s nearly contagious, just not to me.