Thirst: The Kresova Vampire Harems: Aurora Page 8

  With one hand, he tugs open the top two drawers. He rifles through them for a minute, before turning and heading into my closet. He pulls out a long silk gown I wore for Halloween once, seeming satisfied. “There,” he says, tossing the dress, a bra and panties onto the bed before me.

  The fact that he has his hands on my panties has me imagining all kinds of dirty scenarios, but I try to keep my mind focused on the anger I feel. He may have been sweet and kind, nursing me through the transition, but this is the same man who allowed that woman, Queen Morana, to dry fuck him in the middle of three dead bodies, all while I watched from the sidelines.

  I gather the clothes into a pile in my lap, “Can you turn around? Or Leave?”

  He raises a brow but doesn’t take a step toward the door. Instead, he turns to face the window, giving me his back.

  I scoot to the edge of the bed and watch him to make sure he hasn’t moved. He remains in the same position, his gaze focused silently on the world outside. I’d always thought the window in my room to be large, but with Carver beside it, it seems half its normal size. In fact, everything in my bedroom seemed to shrink with the addition of his presence.

  I can’t help but admire him. His coiled, firm arms. His slim waist. His broad, muscular shoulders. I lift up my tee and pull on the black lace bra he selected.

  Fuck.

  I can still smell his skin on the fabric of my bra and panties. He’d held it for only seconds, but that doesn’t matter. It’s as though he’d rubbed it all over his chest before handing it to me. I hate how much he affects me. The only way I see to temper it down is to not give him an inch right now.

  “Well, I hope you’re not expecting anything from me in return for your kindness.”

  I’m grateful, but I’m also pissed. After the way he’d behaved at Morana’s court, I could strangle him. I also refuse to admit how strangely jealous and annoyed I’m feeling. Lucky me that the queen who apparently runs everything—including my new life—is such a callous bitch who wants to screw Carver. Every second in her presence made my stomach turn, and yet Carver just leaned into her every action like some besotted schoolboy.

  He chuckles, the sound bouncing off the four small walls of my bedroom. “A simple thank you would do.”

  “Ha! Not happening.” Bra and panties on, I toss off the blanket and slip into the dress.

  “You are jealous.”

  My head jerks up to see Carver facing me again as I zip the back. “What?”

  “It is why you are angry, chérie. I can smell the desire as it rolls off of you. It’s mingled with your anger.” He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “That combination in women only means one thing—jealousy.”

  I give him my best “fuck you” stare as I shake out my bedhead until I’m convinced it looks semi-decent.

  “You can deny it all you want, but in the many centuries I have lived, I’ve discovered much about the mysteries of women.”

  “Oh, so now you have all the answers?”

  “No, Aurora. Nor have I ever claimed to. But I can certainly tell when a woman lies.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, “You want honesty from me?”

  “I do.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?” he asks.

  “Why did you let her do that to you?” My voice raises with every word, and now that I’ve let the truth out, I can’t stop myself. “Do you love her? Do you want her?” I shake my head. “I just don’t get it. She’s a horrible person. You watched her. You were there. She drained three innocent men and then fondled you with her blood covered hands.” I pivot onto my hip. “Nothing about that bothered you?”

  “There is much you have yet to understand about our world, Aurora. I’ve told you before. One does not deny the request of the queen.”

  “So, you do whatever she tells you to?”

  “Yes, as we all must.” He dips his head looking at me from beneath his thick lashes. “Even you.”

  I laugh. “No. I am not going near that—that creature—ever again.”

  “You will obey, Aurora.”

  “No—Car-vell.” I accentuate every syllable of his given name. “I won’t. I don’t care about the consequences. Even if that means my death.” I run a hand through my hair. “Or my real death. Whatever you want to call it.”

  He takes a step toward me. “You may not care, but I do.”

  “Oh yeah? Why?”

  He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again.

  “See! Even you don’t have a good answer.”

  “This is much greater than simply showing obedience.”

  “Enlighten me, then.”

  He pauses a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Those who do not obey her, face dire consequences. I would not have that for you, chérie.”

  “You don’t know me enough to care.”

  “And yet I do.”

  My non-existent heart flip-flops, and I tell it to shut the hell up. The last thing I need is to start having feelings combined with the desire Carver already evokes in me.

  “So, what are you to her? Her lover?”

  “No, chérie. A lover would imply an emotional connection.”

  “So, then what? You’re her whore?” I know it’s a shitty thing to say, but again, I can’t stop myself. The green-eyed monster is one nasty bitch.

  His gorgeous blue gaze burns into me, “Yes, I have been her whore.”

  I said it to be cruel, but hearing him confirm it as the truth hurts more than I care to admit.

  “Whatever,” I say, waving him off as I head toward the bedroom door. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Carver blocks my path. “Oh no, chérie.” His voice is dark and lethal. “You brought it up. Now you’ll have to hear about it.”

  “I said I don’t care.” I try to push past him, but he stretches his arm across the frame.

  “There was a time where I was nothing but a whore, giving hundreds of the richest of women constant pleasure.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Does that bother you? Make your desire for me lessen?"

  No, it doesn’t make me want him any less. But it hurts. He’s not mine, and yet it feels like he is. The thought of anyone else having him makes me want to scratch their eyes out.

  “I—”

  He cuts me off. “They once called me ‘The Lord of Pleasure,’ chérie.” Carver licks his full bottom lip, and my eyes trace the movement. “My skill is second to none. I can make a woman quake long before I’ve entered her.”

  “Carver—”

  “With only my words, ma belle.”

  “I’m sorry, okay?”

  But I can tell it’s not okay. He feels judged by me. And my stupid words have cut him. I don’t like to hear him talk about himself in such a tasteless way.

  “What woman wouldn’t want to be served by such a magnificent whore, chérie.” He lowers his head until his mouth is a breath from mine. “Perhaps I will give you one free ride, as they say. Would you like that?”

  I shove at his chest. “What are you doing?”

  “What a whore does,” he says, eyes narrowed.

  “I said I was sorry!” I cross the room until I’m a good dozen feet from him. “I don’t know what else you want from me.”

  “I want you . . .”

  I throw my hands into the air. “You want me to what?”

  He stalks forward, and instinctually, I find myself taking steps back to further the distance between us. Abruptly, Carver’s in front of me. So abruptly, I didn’t see him move. This close, I can smell him again. I jerk as the same tantalizing scent from before lays siege to my nerve endings. Rich dark chocolate and red wine.

  Decadent. Sinful. Tempting.

  “I want you, ma belle.” The anger in his eyes dissolves as they caress over me. “I want you naked and writhing in my arms as I fuck you senseless, and bring you to orgasm over and over.” He leans in and inhales against the vein of my neck. “And then I’ll make love
to you, slowly, as I savor every inch of you. I’ll worship your body with my own until you can’t fathom a second without me. I’ll give you everything you want, Aurora, because you are more to me than just a fuck.”

  I’m practically panting, and I can’t seem to formulate words. Whatever is happening between us is big.

  No, it’s bigger than big, it’s the fucking Titanic of emotions on crack. It’s beautiful, and terrifying, and I want to fight it, to run away from it—but I can’t.

  Not anymore.

  I’m not in love with Carver. I know that. But someday? I could be. Because this tether between us was formed long before I set eyes on him. It struck me the moment I’d been changed, maybe even before that. My soul knew that the world had shifted, and my destiny had been altered. Maybe it’s track had been righted. I don’t know. All I am certain of, is I can’t hold back anymore.

  So, I do the one thing I told myself I wouldn’t.

  I give in.

  Chapter 10

  Without thought, I step into him and inhale. Desire courses through my blood and heats my body like a warm summer night. A rush of moisture dampens my panties, and I moan. A switch from rational to irrational is flipped, and my hand moves of its own volition to his chest.

  His pectoral muscles are defined, but not obnoxiously so. My hands move languidly from his pecs to his shoulders and to his biceps. I squeeze. His arms are rock hard. I purr at the feel of his warm skin under my fingertips.

  He whispers my name. “Aurora.” He lets out a deep sigh as my hands continue to squeeze his flesh. He brushes a knuckle against my jaw and lets out a heavy sigh. “I can’t explain the things I feel for you, Aurora. In my four-hundred years, it makes no sense. But it also cannot be denied.”

  “Tell me what you want, chérie. Tell me what you need. I will do anything you ask, just don’t ask me to walk away.”

  My back hits the wall, and Carver leans into me, placing his hands on the wall on either side of my head, and my mouth waters for a taste of him.

  “Why? Why do you affect me like this? It doesn’t make any sense.” I rub my face against his chest like a cat.

  “I’ve asked myself the same question every day since we first met, chérie, and . . .” He trails off as I bite at his chest through his shirt. My hands are moving from his arms back to his chest, my nails leaving red marks along his skin. I splay my hands across his pecs and drag them down his ridged abdomen. His muscles jump beneath my fingers, and my inner vixen stretches in contentment.

  His hands come to rest on my shoulders, and he grunts. “You’re impossible.” He lets out a breathy groan.

  “No, you’re delusional.” I bring my lips up to his collar bone. My mouth hovers over his skin as I breathe him in. My tongue leaves a slick line of flesh in its wake. I roll my eyes up to meet his, and I blow cool air on the damp line. He shivers in response. His pleasure at my actions is palpable. Almost tangible. I can almost see it in the air. His scent has deepened. My desire for him only increases as I continue my exploration of him. Tingling need jolts through me, and I press forward trying to ease the ache between my thighs.

  Inside, I feel like I’m being torn in two. I should stop this. I don’t truly know him, but I can’t.

  Carver stops my internal debate as he grabs me, one hand tunneling in my hair, and brings my lips up to his. He kisses me with a savage passion, and between one kiss and the next, I’m lost. His tongue invades my mouth with a mastery I can’t comprehend. The kiss isn’t rushed. It’s slow and methodical. He takes his time exploring every recess of my mouth. He coaxes my tongue to play with his, to follow it back into his mouth where I can explore. His hand cradles the back of my head as he tilts it to the exact angle he wants.

  With a satisfied sound, his tongue teases me with quick laps to my sensitive lower lip. A low gasp slips past my lips. My entire body feels like I touched an electric outlet. Ecstasy courses through me, and my knees weaken. I let go of all other thoughts except Carver’s mouth on mine. Wanton and needy, I inhale again and draw his scent inside of me. I’m lost to the sensations bombarding me at his touch.

  His hands slide from my hair down my body. He takes his time as his hands make their way down. Past my shoulders, his large hands spread until his thumbs rub against the sides of my sensitive breasts.

  “Yes,” I exhale on a breath. My breasts are swollen and heavy. Begging to be touched.

  He swipes his thumbs under them, teasing me. At my plea, he continues his trek further down my trembling body. Past the swell of my ass, he lifts me with no effort at all. My legs wrap around him, and I feel his hardness at my core.

  I tilt my hips and grind against his cock. It’s not enough. “More,” I plead.

  He doesn’t answer me, only kisses me. He walks back towards the couch, his mouth still on mine. I tear my mouth from his and nudge his head to the side so I can kiss my way down his cheek to his jaw. I grip the hem of his shirt and yank it upwards. I want to feel his skin against my own. I’m desperate for the feel of his skin sliding over mine as we move together. His hands grip my ass, and he deposits me on the back of the couch. I cross my ankles behind his back, so he can’t retreat. The teasing pressure of his hard cock against my wet center is driving me crazy. Not enough to do anything but make me want more, but just enough that I can’t bear the thought of losing the sensation.

  He leans his torso away, and with his help, I remove his shirt. My hands go to his muscled chest. I splay my fingers over his smooth skin and dig my nails in deep leaving marks. I want to mark him as my own. The need is primal. Before I can draw blood, he distracts me with his mouth and like a moth to flame, my lips follow wherever he leads me.

  He trails kisses from my lips to my neck, his teeth nipping at me. Too quickly, he ends his movements and leans back once more. I let out a sound of despair at the distance between us.

  “Hush,” he soothes me as he hooks his fingers under the straps of my dress. He yanks the fabric down my arms trapping them at my sides. He traces a finger across the neckline of the dress until he stops in the center. Hooking his finger in the fabric, he pulls until my breasts are freed from the garment.

  The cool breeze of the air conditioner puckers my nipples to hardened points. He smiles and licks his lips. His gaze focuses on my breasts and the movements they make with each rough breath I take.

  I try to move to bring his mouth back to mine, but the straps of my dress restrict me. Frustrated, I claw at the fabric, tearing it enough to free me. With a triumphant smirk, I toss my head back in challenge, my hair tickling my lower back.

  His eyes flash, and he presses himself against my center. The pressure on my clit takes my breath in a huff.

  “Yes…” I wiggle my hips for more.

  “I was going to take my time with you, ma belle, but you have left me no choice.”

  With quick movements, his hands grip the hem of my dress and pull. The sound of tearing fabric greets my ears, and a thrill goes through me. With a jerk, he frees himself, and I get a brief glimpse of the size of him. My eyes go wide, and moisture rushes to my cunt.

  He hooks a finger in my panties and yanks them to the side. Wetness meets with his flesh, and he hisses out a breath. I watch his face as he lines himself up with my entrance and drives into me in one punishing thrust.

  “Fuck yes!” I throw my head back and dig my nails into his back.

  “So tight around me, ma belle. J’adore.” Each ridge on his dick drags across the delicate folds of my pussy.

  “Mmm, yeah. So good.” I lean forward, the scent of him guiding me to just above his nipple. My fangs explode out of my gums, and I bite down, his blood squirting into my mouth, an explosion of desire mixed with contentment cascading through me. The sweet taste of his blood still on my tongue, I lick the punctures as he continues his conquest of my body. In and out. Quick and rough. With each thrust in, his pelvis hits my clit. The pleasure makes me cry out each time.

  He slides his hands between my ass and th
e couch and grips me tight as he pushes into me. My hard nipples rub against the dusting of hair on his firm chest. The sensation tantalizes me. I want his teeth on my nipples.

  As if he can read my mind, he bends me back over his arm. Hard nips of his fangs lead a trail down my neck to my chest. I arch my back as hard as I can, presenting my aching breasts to him.

  “I know what you want, ma belle.” He speaks the words against my skin, the timber of his voice vibrating through me.

  “Then give it to me.” I pant. I just need a little more. A little more, and he will push me over the edge into a bliss filled oblivion.

  He doesn’t respond to me. He only clamps his teeth down on my areola, his tongue drawing a circle as he nips at me. I can feel his gaze on me while he thrusts harder and harder into me. I don’t care. I only want to fall over the edge into gratification.

  “Ma belle. Look at me.” I shake my head, and he growls. I can’t look at him while he overwhelms my body with rapture. “Look at me while I pleasure you, mon trésor.”

  My eyes slit open, and I growl back at him. I dig my nails into his back punishingly until blood is drawn. I inhale and lick my lips. That scent that drives me wild in its purest form. His blood. I want it. I crave it. I bare my teeth at him and hiss.

  “Non, ma belle.” His command is guttural and harsh. His fangs flash at me between his lips. His mouth goes back to my hard nipples, and I feel a sharp pinch. The pain of his fangs tickles at some objection I have, but as soon as the heavenly feeling takes over, the thought is lost.

  I watch in fascination as his mouth suckles my breast. He sucks at my nipple drawing blood from the punctures his fangs made. I don’t want him to stop. My blood heats in my veins from the euphoria coursing through me. My pulse concentrates at my nipple, and it pulses with each suck of his lips.

  His throat works, and he swallows my blood. His fangs are still in my flesh and drops of my blood slip past his lips. I watch as the drops disappear below my neckline. I lick my lips again and he slaps my ass.

  The flesh warms as his hand rubs at the spot. I moan in need. I’m so close. I throw my head back again and let the onslaught of pleasure wash over me.