Page 15 of Tryst or Treat (Season’s Readings #3)
V lad opened the door and stepped out into the courtyard. He’d installed a covered seating area by the pool so he could enjoy the outdoors during daylight hours, and he silently strode to the edge of the shade. The air was cool; the afternoon pleasant, and he settled into a chair, his body only just shielded from the sun. It took every ounce of willpower not to step into the light at the sight that lay before him, though. His control wavered, whispering that death by fire would be preferable to this torture, for lounging just out of reach was his topless wife.
Witches thrived during the fall, Halloween fueling their magic, and while most women would be too cold to sun themselves almost nude on an October afternoon, Belladonna seemed to feed off the autumn sunshine. His guards’ peculiar behavior made sudden sense as he studied her young and inviting body. She was on her stomach, her breasts hidden, but the lack of bikini straps made it clear she was topless. She wore one of the bathing suit bottoms he’d gifted her, and he suddenly hated himself for buying those. She was mere feet away, yet she might as well have been across the world since he couldn’t risk the sun. It was torture staring at her in that suit, the curve of her ass begging him to sink his fangs into the softness and mark her as his. To watch her sugary sweet blood drip down her curves while she rode his cock. How could she be the enemy? How could she be evil when everything inside him promised she was his destiny, his future, his mate? He wanted her with such a primal need that he doubted it was lust. He’d experienced lust before, but this desire went deeper than the craving to feel her skin against his. It was all-consuming and inescapable, and the sight of her bare back begged him to brave the sunshine so he might taste her.
Belladonna twisted to glance over her shoulder as if realizing she was being watched, and she smiled when she registered it was him and not a guard. Pride swelled his chest at her expression. She looked genuinely happy to see him, and for long minutes, she lay there studying him. Her gaze started at his shoes and worked their way up to his face as if she was seeing him for the first time. She savored the sight of him, her appreciation making it impossible for him to breathe. Her admiration was an intense form of worship, and his skin felt too small for his body. He wanted to explode, to burn, to scream, and her eyes on him filled him with pure power. There was nothing he couldn’t do when she gazed at him like that.
With a soft smile, Belladonna’s eyes fell to his tattooed hand. Her expression changed the moment she registered the skull, and the change surprised him. It wasn’t fear. It was longing. His inked fist turned her on, and then she lifted her gaze back to his eyes, letting him witness her desire. It shocked him even as it made him hard. She liked the sight of his skull, and he wondered if that night at the club inspired her appreciation. Most saw the angel of death before they died. Very few witnessed it rescue them.
Belladonna’s eyes dipped to his pants, lingering on the bulge he didn’t bother to hide, and then she sat up. Vlad’s entire body stilled. He didn’t blink. He didn’t breathe. He didn’t so much as twitch. He became solid as stone as he saw her for the first time.
She smiled, twisting on the lounge chair to offer him an unhindered view of her breasts. They were the perfect size for his hands, and her pink nipples pebbled in the cool air. They rose and fell with her every breath, and he thought he might pass out at the sight. He longed to suck them into his mouth, to watch her writhe beneath him as he licked them to hardened peaks. Her young breasts were firm and full, and he couldn’t stop himself from picturing how they would bounce and sway as he thrust inside her. Vlad groaned at the image, and she smirked as if she could read his mind. This woman would be the death of him.
Belladonna let him look his fill, and then she stood up and dove into the pool. She swam a few laps, her movements lazy as if she enjoyed his eyes on her. He couldn’t touch her, yet he’d rarely felt happier. Yes, he loved the way the water caressed her smooth skin, but it was more than that. She dressed sexy every day, but this felt different. At first, her attire had been to punish. Then it morphed into a tease, and over the past few days, she’d changed, both with her words and her body. She was letting him in, breaking down her walls to allow him entrance. This show was for him and him alone, and that conviction resurfaced again. This wasn’t lust. It wasn’t an obsession, and she wasn’t the enemy. Not when she felt like his mate, like the woman his ancient soul was meant to find.
Belladonna took her time in the water, savoring the way Vlad watched her. She was convinced he was the most handsome man to walk this earth, but her attraction to her husband went deeper than his angled, masculine features and penetrating gaze. The way he’d saved her that night at the club. The way he’d cut through four vampires as if they were blades of grass to save her… a witch. It changed her down to her core. Her mother would sacrifice anything for her, but Rowena was her parent and the coven’s leader. Saving her daughter and one of her own was expected, but no one else had ever displayed such protectiveness of her. She’d thought she loved Gabriel. Thought he loved her in return, but his cruelty when she’d begged for help proved his true feelings. A dark part of her soul whispered that if Gabriel had been her date, he would’ve let those vampires have her, but Vlad? He’d killed for her and then carried her home. As embarrassing as it was, he’d also rejected her advances when she was drunk. He didn’t want to take advantage of her, and that knowledge was what led to her swimming half-naked for him. His respect for her was as sexy as he was, and they’d evolved over the past few days. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but she’d been sitting on his desk yesterday, trying to aggravate him while he worked, and she’d purposely worn a new lacy thong under her skirt. Her thighs kept falling open as she chatted about nothing for twenty minutes straight, and she was convinced that after her mindless conversation and taunting pose, Vlad would be ready to scream, but he’d been leaning back in his seat, watching her face. His gaze never once dipped to her legs. He observed her lips move, her eyes dance, her hands gesture, and it was like an electric shock to her system. Her husband craved her body, but his desire had deepened beyond the superficial. He craved all of her. He paid attention as she spouted nonsense, and suddenly twenty minutes turned into an hour. Her knees fe ll closed, her stories became more interesting, yet his eyes remained on her face.
She’d left that conversation and cried in the bathroom, but her tears didn’t fall in sadness. No one had listened to her with that much awe before, with that intense interest. She didn’t know when it had happened, but yesterday was when she first realized it. Vlad was no longer the enemy. He was becoming her friend… a friend her entire body craved.
The chill of the pool finally seeped into her skin, and she climbed out of the water and sat on the lounge chair, facing her husband so he could see the water droplets dripping off her hard nipples. He leaned forward with an expression that warned he would eat her alive if he got his hands on her, and her cheeks flushed at the idea. What would it be like to experience Vlad’s bite? What would it feel like to let him drink her blood while he was inside her? Her blush intensified, and Vlad growled at the sight.
He stood up so fast that his chair toppled over, and he lunged forward, his tattooed hand escaping into the sunshine. Smoke curled off his skin as the sun singed his flesh, but he didn’t make a single sound at the intense pain. He leaned forward again, forcing more of his body into the light as if he was willing to burn for her, but when his blisters blackened, he retreated. He returned to the shade, but he hovered on the edge, toeing the line between life and death for her as his fingers healed.
Belladonna smiled a wicked grin, a dangerous idea taking root. She shouldn’t tempt a vampire of Vlad’s strength, but the intense hunger in his eyes had her throwing caution to the wind. He made it impossible to act rationally. Something about her husband called to her. His power fed her magic, and if she reflected on it, she knew she would understand why.
But she couldn’t think about that. Not yet, so she hooked her fingers on her bikini bottoms and did something she thought she would never do. It was foolish and irresponsible. It might be a mistake, but she didn’t care. Not when sex and sin wrapped in the body of the devil gazed at her as if she was his goddess.
Belladonna pulled her bathing suit off, watching Vlad’s fangs descend at the sight, and with a heady sense of power, she parted her thighs. Her breasts felt heavy as he examined how wet she was, and she loved how he couldn’t rip his gaze away from her bare pussy. His unbridled desire fueled her bravery, and she shifted so he could get a better view. He growled at her movements. A low and feral growl, and suddenly just showing him her body wasn’t enough. She’d only intended to let him see her, to show him what he’d married, but arousal coated her thighs. Encouraged by his appreciation, she slipped her fingers between her legs.
“Little witch,” Vlad warned, his voice as cold and sharp as ice as he struggled to maintain control, but his voice had the opposite effect on her. It flooded her with pleasure, with desperation, with power, and she stroked herself as she moaned. He wasn’t even touching her, and she thought she would explode.
Her fingers moved faster. Her breaths heaved, but she kept her eyes on her husband, savoring the way his gaze devoured her, the way he stood as close to the sun as he could without dying. It made her feel alive and powerful, and as he groaned in appreciation, she slipped her fingers inside her, imagining it was his thick cock as she pumped.
“Fuck,” Vlad growled, making a fist until his knuckles turned white, and she moaned, her chest heaving as her breathing grew erratic at the sound of his voice. She wanted him to speak again. She wanted to come to his words.
“Vlad,” she whispered, teetering on the edge. She was so close. So desperate and out of control, but she couldn’t take the plunge. Her body wouldn’t let her. She needed him.
“Come, little witch,” he ordered, understanding her plea, and the instant his voice left his lips, she climaxed. Fireworks exploded inside her, stirring her dormant magic so forcefully that she started shaking. Her magic had never ignited with a man before, but just the sound of her husband’s voice had her contained power breaking free. The waves of bliss were endless, so powerful she was afraid of what they meant, and when she finally came down from her high, she found Vlad’s eyes and smiled. Seeing him so tense awakened her desire all over again, and she knew if she didn’t flee his presence, she would beg her husband to take her. The thought suddenly terrified her. If she let Vlad touch her after her release like she wanted him to, it wouldn’t be because of her pent-up frustration. It would be because she was done fighting him. Because she wanted to be his wife in every sense of the word, and unable to handle the intensity of those emotions, she wrapped her towel around her body and fled.