Page 9 of Even Vampires Bleed (Even Ever After #2)

Cassiopé

L éandre doesn’t leave me wanting for long. His middle finger dips inside of me almost in the next second.

“Are you this wet for me, Little Luciole?” he asks, full of cockiness.

“Stop being an ass and make me come,” I tell him, matching his cockiness.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers in my ear as he gathers some of my wetness on his finger so he can spread it on my throbbing clit. “Bossy little thing that you are.”

I can hear the smile in his voice, but I completely forget about it when he starts rubbing fast little circles on my clit that leaves me breathless.

And he said he was a virgin?

“My readings can be enlightening,” he tells me, and I realize that I might have thought that out loud.

At least he’s not taking it badly, because coupled with his fingers—his index joined the middle one—his lips are trailing a burning path against my throat and his right hand is still very much teasing my nipple.

He’s not in a hurry. He’s teasing as if we have all the time in the world, and slowly, I can feel my body grow hotter and hotter.

He keeps alternating between dipping his fingers inside of me and rubbing them against my clit. Each time I feel like I’m on the precipice of my orgasm, he changes the way his fingers move. If that didn’t look so deliberate, I would believe he just doesn’t know any better.

Except I’m a writhing mess of need and all I want is to finally come, but Léandre seems too happy torturing me.

“You’re being an ass again,” I tell him, and I barely recognize myself from the way my voice sounds breathless. “Let me come.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Little Luciole. You’re not the one in command right now. I decide when you come,” he growls.

He slips the hand that was playing with my breast up to my throat, bracketing the underside of my jaw with his thumb on one side and the rest of his fingers on the other side, and forces my head to turn so he can claim my mouth.

The kiss isn’t sweet.

Oh, yes, it’s very slow—as tantalizing as his fingers playing with my clit. It’s playful and makes me burn inside. His tongue slides inside my mouth and comes to stroke mine with languorous moves. He’s licking at my lips and tongue, and I feel it down to my core.

But he doesn’t stop the ministrations of his fingers.

No, he steadily brings me back to the brink, and when I think he’s going to slow down again or slip his fingers inside of my pussy to prevent me from coming, his lips leave my mouth and only a breath away from my lips he whispers, “Now you can come,” and I explode against his fingers.

I’m breathless, but Léandre doesn’t let me take a break. He kisses me again. This time he’s demanding. It feels as if he wants to steal the very air I’m breathing, and I love it.

The hand around my throat slips down, fondling my breasts then slowly retreating behind my back, but the other hand is still on my clit, leisurely stroking me in a way that makes me believe he’s not done with me. Far from it.

I can still feel how hard he is against my back, and when my heartbeat finally slows, I finally push my hand between the two of us.

He groans when my hand slips inside his boxer briefs, and his hips move against the palm of my hand. I don’t think he realizes that he’s doing so until I feel his hand tugging at his briefs so he can release himself.

His lips still on mine, he turns me in his arms so I end up on my back and him between my legs, with his boxer briefs mid-thigh.

He replaces the fingers that hadn’t stopped petting me with the tip of his cock and I wouldn’t have thought that possible, but I grow wetter.

There are my shorts between us now, but my nerve endings are so raw that the shorts could be absent, I’m not sure I would feel him less.

His hands move to discard his briefs, and then they’re under my shirt, making it pool around his wrist until my breasts are free.

He stops kissing me for a second—just enough time for him to slip the shirt above my head—and then his lips are back on mine. They don’t stay there though. He peppers kisses along my jaw and my throat until he reaches my breasts and licks each of my nipples as his cock still rubs against my clit.

The tilt of his hips is as slow as the torture he set upon me earlier, but the pressure he applies is more.

He needs this as much as I do.

“Please tell me you have condoms,” Léandre says as he teases my left nipple. I have no idea how he can talk and still give all his attention to my nipple, but I’m not about to comment on that. It’s a neat trick.

The crown of his cock slips inside of me, still sheathed by my silky shorts.

Wait. What did he ask already?

He seems to realize my mind didn’t compute what he asked because he repeats and this time it’s around my right nipple.

“Condoms?”

“Top shelf of my wardrobe,” I moan as he sucks my nipple between his lips, “behind the sweaters.”

He stops altogether, and I cry from the loss of his mouth and lull in the grinding of his cock against my pussy.

“I don’t want to know why they’re there instead of your nightstand,” he says with a shaking head before he reluctantly stands from the bed and runs to get them.

He brings back the full box.

“Hide that cocky smile. We don’t need the whole box,” I tell him full of sass, “and come back to bed.”

He looks at me from the end of the bed with hunger in his eyes, and I don’t miss the slow perusal of my body, but he’s still not moving.

“What made you think you’re the one in command?” he teases. “I need those shorts to be gone already, and then you’re going to scream my name.”

I wouldn’t usually comply like this in a bedroom. I’m not one to follow orders. At all. But there is something in Léandre’s voice that compels me to do as he says.

His commands in the bedroom are so at odds with the golden vibes he exults outside of it, but it still works, setting my body on fire.

I get rid of my shorts, but Léandre is still looking at me like he could devour me. All I want is to make him actually devour me, but he’s not going to get swayed. I know it from the only few times I tried to be the one demanding things.

So, I wait. But do I wait like I’m only his plaything? Hell, no.

I can feel his eyes tracing my skin so I follow the movement of his eyes upon my body with my fingers, letting them trail on my skin in slow and languorous patterns like he seems to love, until I don’t want to wait anymore, and I slip my fingers to my pussy, stroking my clit.

Something shines in his eyes and he throws the box of condoms on the bed and kneels between my legs.

He moves my hand aside, replacing it with the push of his tongue against my clit and two of his fingers spearing me.

And just like that, I’m on the precipice of coming again.

Maybe men should read romance more often.

This time, he doesn’t try going slow or to torture me with his fingers.

It’s like he’s on a mission and decided he won’t let himself fuck me until I’ve had another orgasm.

So he pumps his fingers relentlessly, adding a third when he feels I’m ready and the flick of his tongue against my clit gets faster and faster until I’m a mess and screaming his name without a care in the world for the people in the rooms next to mine.

I close my eyes and try to get my breath back to normal, but he doesn’t let me. I hear the condom being opened, and then his hand wraps around my throat again.

“Look at me, Little Luciole.” He pauses, waiting for me to comply, and when I do, he adds, “I want you to know exactly who is claiming that sweet cunt of yours.”

My pussy contracts at his words, and then he sits himself inside of me in one thrust and a heavy groan.

My eyes close on impact as I moan, before I remind myself to keep them open.

His hand stays around my throat as he pumps inside of me. He’s not gentle, but I don’t need him to be. I’ve already come enough that I can feel my pussy flutter around him in waves.

“You feel so fucking good,” Léandre says, and it sounds almost like a prayer.

Right back at you.

I want to say it out loud, but my mind is a jumbled mess, and all I can do is scream a mix of “Oh yes,” and his name each time his cock pumps inside of me, reaching the perfect spot. I’m not coherent and I know it, but all my body feels set ablaze, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

His hands are on my hips and their movements grow erratic as he pumps his hips against my core. I’m still screaming when he hits my sweet spot again, and I can’t scream anymore. My eyesight goes black, and my orgasm takes my body over.

I start shaking, and I can feel a pulse inside my pussy as she contracts endlessly around Léandre, and then there is a powerful thrust. He tenses, and then he growls before he sags, fumbling for my lips.

His kiss is sweet as he keeps pumping very slowly inside of me, dragging my orgasm so it keeps raking my whole body.

After a couple minutes, he pulls out and lays at my side.

It takes him another minute before he reaches for his cock, removes the condom, ties it, and drops it on my nightstand.

I’ll have to clean that.

I don’t really care, though, because Léandre slips his arm under me and tucks me against his chest.

There is a fleeting thought in my mind that tells me that waking up like this every day would be awesome, but I kill the thought before it takes root.

I can’t start thinking like this or else I’ll set myself up for a huge disappointment.

“What time is it?” Léandre asks me when there is a knock at my door.

Shoot.

I need to get dressed.

“I don’t know,” I tell him without missing a beat, trying to locate my robe.

It’s where I left it on the chair in front of my desk, but I still fumble to get it.

I smell under my armpit.

Yew. Well, it’ll have to do. I don’t have time for a shower.