Page 18 of The Vampire Kingpin (The Vampire Syndicate #7)

Spider

S ometimes I had really bad ideas. I mean, really fucking terrible ideas.

Like taking Lark dress shopping.

It was the following Monday, and we were at some fancy little shop in Soho.

I’d instructed the saleswoman to find us a dress for the Midnight Masquerade, then parked myself on a spindly chair in the pink-and-black dressing room, a glass of blood-whiskey in hand, to give the thumbs-up or thumbs-down on the choices.

Now I was being tortured by Lark in a series of cock-teasing dresses. A short white lacy thing that was so see-through you could tell the color of her nipples. A longer red dress with a back that dipped so low you could see the top of her ass cheeks.

I took a sip of blood-whiskey and shrugged off my leather jacket, undoing the first two buttons of my silk shirt for good measure. Why did humans keep their buildings so damn hot?

The saleswoman glanced at me and I shook my head, nixing the red like I had the white-lace dress. She helped Lark remove it, leaving her barefoot on the thick pink carpet in a black thong and no bra. Anything else would “spoil the lines,” the saleswoman had informed us.

Next up was a slinky silver tube that bared Lark’s butter-cream throat and shoulders. “No,” I barked before she even got a chance to see herself in the dressing room’s trio of mirrors. “Find something that doesn’t show so much of her neck.”

The Midnight Masquerade was a playground for vampires at their most decadent.

Taking Lark dressed like that would be like dangling a piece of raw meat in front of a pack of starving wolves, and I’d rather not get in a brawl over her at a syndicate ball.

Not that I feared those arrogant SOBs, but I preferred to fly under the radar.

“Of course, sir.” The saleswoman peeled Lark out of the silver tube.

I waited until she was putting yet another dress on Lark and adjusted my dick. The saleswoman didn’t see, but Lark pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh.

I glowered back at her.

The current choice was a deep, purply red with a high neck that encircled Lark’s throat like a collar.

A diamond cutout dipped between her breasts, and another, smaller diamond opened over her mid-back.

At her hips, the dress flared into a short, pleated skirt over a black gauze slip.

The slip was tighter and designed to peek beneath the skirt, an edgy touch that was perfect for Lark.

“Do a little shimmy,” said the saleswoman, and when Lark complied, the pleats changed from red to purple and back again.

Lark’s eyes widened. She shook her hips again. “Wow. That’s so freaking cool. What d’you think?” she asked, meeting my eyes in the mirror.

I raked my gaze over her again. She stilled, then, very slowly, lifted her arms and raised her hair from her shoulders.

The position outlined her body against the mirror, her breasts and ass thrust out.

I waited until she released her hair, letting the black strands sift onto her shoulders, then took another sip of whiskey.

“That one,” I told the saleswoman. “Wrap it up—and close the door on your way out.”

The woman’s thin dark brows arched knowingly. “Very good, sir.”

She helped Lark out of the dress and draped it on a hanger. Then she gathered up the other dresses while I waited impatiently. At last the door closed behind her.

“Lock it,” I told Lark.

She complied, her round ass swaying like a porn star’s in the thong, and turned back to me.

I put my whiskey glass on the floor and came to my feet, spinning the chair to face the mirrors. “Bend over the chair.”

She sauntered the few steps between us and fingered my lapel. “Yes, sir,” she said in a dead-on imitation of the saleswoman’s New York accent. “Whatever you say, sir.” She fluttered her eyelashes at me.

I turned her around and lightly smacked her ass. “ Now , Lark.”

She bent over the chair, her palms on the seat. Without my asking, she widened her legs. “Like this?”

“Such a bad girl,” I murmured as I slid my finger down the thong and between her cheeks. “You’re soaked,” I said, fingering her through the material. “You liked teasing me, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Her beautiful green eyes smoldered at me in the middle mirror. “I’m such a bad girl. I guess you’ll have to spank me.”

I cupped her mound. “If you want that salesperson hearing you begging me to stop…”

I should’ve known she’d see my dare and raise me one. “How d’you know I wouldn’t be begging you for more—harder?” she added on a whisper.

I gave her a firm tap right over her clit. “You are in so much trouble,” I returned in an undertone. “But I’m not gonna spank you here. In fact, if you can’t be quiet, I’ll stop. Nobody gets to hear those sounds you make except me.”

“I can be quiet.” She started to pull down the thong but I stopped her.

“Leave it for now.”

I rose back up so I could undo my belt buckle and dress pants.

Lark was watching me in the mirror, so I gave her a show.

Pushing down my pants and boxers but leaving them around my thighs.

Fisting my dick and slowly stroking up and down.

Running my thumb around the cap and lubricating myself with the pre-cum.

Her eyes darkened. Resting her weight on a forearm, she slid her free hand into her thong. Her salty, musky perfume filled my nostrils, and I heard the slickness as she moved her fingers in and out of her pussy.

I covered her with my body and cupped her tits. I toyed with her nipples, my gaze locked on the view of my hands in the mirror, tugging and playing the tight, rosy points.

“So damn sexy,” I said next to her ear. “But can you be a good girl for me?”

A stifled moan escaped her closed lips, and I pinched a nipple. “What did I say about making noise?”

She squirmed, her bottom brushing over my erection. “I’m trying,” she rasped.

“Try harder,” I told her sternly, removing my hands from her breasts. “I give you an order, I expect it to be obeyed.”

She drew a jagged inhale and dropped her voice to an almost-whisper. “Please don’t stop. I’ll be quiet—I promise.”

“If you don’t, you know what happens. Now let’s get this off.” I removed her thong and touched my lips to the base of her spine.

She gave a little shiver. Something about me kissing that spot always set her off—and I loved that I knew that about her.

I gave a hard swallow. I was free falling off a tall building but fuck if I could save myself.

Even picturing Amina didn’t hit me the same way these nights. Amina was in her final grave and had been for two decades.

Lark, though, was right here. I could touch her velvety skin. Bite her throat. Inhale her earthy female scent. Grip her waist and thrust into her so hard and deep it felt like we were connected in some profound, unexplainable way…

She pressed her bottom against my groin. “Make me come, Spider.”

I wrapped my hand around her chin, forcing her head up. “No talking,” I reminded her.

I actually didn’t care if anyone heard us, but I got off on controlling her in this small way.

Her breath hitched and she nodded rapidly.

Taking myself in hand, I dragged the head through her wet folds. She made a maddening little circle, rubbing her clit over my hardness.

“That’s it,” I encouraged. “Get yourself off on me.”

She squeezed her inner thighs around me and the pleasure was so intense, I had to bite back a growl.

I rocked my hips, pushing between her thighs in slow, short strokes so she could use me how she wanted.

But soon, it wasn’t enough for either of us.

She was panting and pushing against me, and I was so ready, I was going to come like a fifteen-year-old boy.

Pulling back, I dragged off the rest of my clothes and snagged a rubber from my wallet. I ripped the package open with my teeth, rolled it on with impatient hands, then lined up our bodies again.

She was too low, so I lifted her by the waist and put her on the carpet. “On your hands and knees.”

She obeyed, her long black hair spilling over her shoulders. I knelt behind her and moved the silky mass aside, taking in her strong, sleek back, the indentation of her waist, the curve of her ass.

“So pretty,” I said, low and gruff. I stroked her from her waist to her thighs, then back up her center, trailing my fingers from her pussy to the crack of her ass. I circled the tender pink pucker. “Someday, I’m gonna take you here.”

She gave another of those sexy shivers. The next one, I wanted to feel with my whole body.

I covered her, filling my hands with her tits, and nudged inside of her. “Touch yourself. I want to feel you tighten around me while I’m fucking you.” I waited until her hand was between her legs, then murmured, “Good girl.”

Her pussy fluttered around me and I had to stifle my own groan.

“Look at you.” I thrust slowly in and out of her. “You like that so much. My Lark would do anything to get fucked by me, wouldn’t she?”

An eager nod.

“So sweet,” I said, and gave a single hard stroke.

Her body tensed like a runner at the starting block.

“That’s it,” I muttered, picking up the pace. I would’ve kept going but Lark clenched on me, so ready, she was going to come soon.

And I wanted to see it on her face, to watch her come apart for me.

I stopped and pulled out, slapping her ass when she gave a muffled whine, then guided her to lie down on the thick pink carpet. She gazed up at me, heavy-eyed, knees bent, nipples rosy from me playing with them.

My beautiful, black-haired, smooth-skinned temptation.

I wanted to fall on her and take her like an animal.

I wanted to worship her like the gift from the gods she was.

Worship first, I decided, and slid down her body, searching for her swollen clit in with my mouth.

I rubbed the flat of my tongue sideways and around it.

Her hands came to my head, holding me where she wanted me.

When her thighs tightened and started to quiver, I slid two fingers inside her and tickled that spot on the other side of her clit.