Page 62 of Fangs & Freaks
“Fuck,” I groan, my voice barely more than a whisper. “What the hell is happening?”
Bellonna’s voice cuts through the haze, smooth and dripping with amusement. “You like that, Warrick?” she purrs, her tone teasing and sultry. “You like feeling how Varys makes my cunt feel?”
“Yes,” I rasp, the word escaping before I can stop it. My hips jerk forward involuntarily, chasing a sensation I can’t explain.
Her laughter is low and wicked, wrapping around me like a noose. “Good,” she purrs. “Because this isn’t just for us. It’s for you too.”
“See? Now you understand. I’m gonna beg Lilith to reincarnate me as a cock-pussy,” Blackwell murmurs.
I try to focus, to push past the haze clouding my mind, but it’s impossible. Every thrust Varys makes sends a ripple of pleasure through me, as if I’m right there with them, feeling every inch of him inside her. My hands curl into fists at my sides, and I grit my teeth, torn between the need to pull away and the desire to lose myself in it completely.
And then, as suddenly as it started, it stops. The room comes back into focus, and I’m standing in the doorway, my chest heaving, my cock straining painfully against my pants. Bellonna is still watching me, her smile triumphant, her body writhing beneath Varys as he drives into her with an intensity that makes my knees weak.
“Stay.” Varys’ growl fills the room, low and guttural, but there’s no true malice in it. His movements don’t falter, his rhythm relentless as Bellonna writhes beneath him. His eyes meet mine, sharp and knowing, the flicker of jealousy is replaced by something darker—an invitation.
The weight of that one word sinks in, and I stagger slightly, bracing myself against the doorframe. My cock throbs painfully against the confines of my pants, and the air around me seems charged, thick with the kind of tension that pulls you under like quicksand.
“Come closer,” Bellonna whispers, her tone commanding despite its softness. The crimson glow in her eyes seems to brighten, drawing me in like a moth to flame.
I hesitate, my mind warring with my body. This is madness. It’s wrong. Yet the pull is irresistible. My feet move of their own accord, carrying me into the room and shutting the door behind me.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Bellonna
The room smells like lust—headyand intoxicating, a cocktail of sweat, blood, and release that clings to the air. Varys’ body collapses against mine, his chest heaving, his dark hair sticking to his damp forehead. I feel his release still hot and sticky inside me, and my body shivers, wracked by aftershocks. Across the room, Warrick and Blackwell tremble, their own bodies shaking with the force of their climaxes.
“Fuck,” Blackwell murmurs, his voice rough yet reverent as he leans back in his chair. His dark hair sticks up in messy tufts, his usually cold, calculating eyes hazy with satisfaction. “Best prize ever. Almost as good as being in your pussy myself.”
I smirk, my chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as I regain control of my breathing. “I knew you’d like it,” I purr, running a hand lazily over Varys’ damp back.
He lifts his head, his silver eyes shining with a mix of mischief and possession. He’s mine, and every inch of his body, every drop of his soul, belongs to me. But I’ve always loved sharing my toys, and tonight, I’ve gifted the vampires a taste of what it’s like when I share.
“What the fuck was that?” Warrick finally demands, his voice raw with disbelief and frustration. His tone is like music to my ears, a symphony of confusion and barely restrained hunger.
Blackwell chuckles as he lounges back in his chair, utterly unbothered. “That,” he says, pointing a lazy finger at me, “is Bellonna. She doesn’t play by the rules. She makes her own.”
Warrick’s eyes are wild, his jaw tight as he rakes a hand through his dark hair. “She got in my head,” he says, his voice low but trembling with an edge I know too well. “Made me feel?—”
“I know,” Blackwell interrupts smoothly, leaning his head back against the chair. His cocky demeanor dims just slightly, revealing a flicker of something serious beneath his smirk. “She does that. It’s her gift. Or curse, depending on how you look at it.”
I sit up, carefully pulling myself free from Varys, who lets out a low, contented hum as he shifts to lie back against the pillows. My thighs feel sticky with his release, and I revel in the sensation, the mingling of dominance and submission that flows between us. Warrick’s outrage only fuels my amusement.
“It’s not right,” Warrick snaps, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “She shouldn’t be able to do that.”
I tilt my head, my smile razor-sharp. “Oh, sweet Warrick,” I coo, my voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You think I care about your notions of ‘right’? I’m Bloody Mary. Morality is for saints, not sinners.”
Blackwell shrugs, a lazy grin stretching across his face. “She’s not wrong,” he adds. “If she wanted to destroy you, she could’ve. Instead, she let you feel a piece of her world.” His tone carries a feint warning, but his smirk betrays his amusement.
I turn to look at Varys, my unicorn, my prize. His cock softens against his thigh, glistening with our combined fluids,and the sight makes me grin. “Blackwell,” I say, licking my lips, “come fuck and then clean up our unicorn.”
Blackwell’s eyes glint with intrigue as he rises from his chair, crossing the room with the predatory grace of the vampire he is. Warrick stiffens, his chest heaving as he watches, his fangs still bared and his pupils blown wide with hunger.
Blackwell doesn’t hesitate. He drops to his knees before Varys, wrapping his lips around his softening shaft and sucking gently. Varys moans, his head falling back, and his body relaxes against the pillows. He doesn’t get to enjoy the pleasure for long before Blackwell releases him with a pop.
"On all fours," he demands. Varys’ eyes widen in surprise, but he obeys instinctively. He turns around, his body shifting as he places his hands on the bed. His back arches slightly, and he raises his hips, positioning himself like a show pony on display.
Blackwell’s movements are calculated, his tongue flicking against Varys’ tight star, sending a tremor through my unicorn, though I remain still. Varys' soft moan escapes, a sound of surrender that sends a ripple through the room, but Blackwell doesn't linger. There's a wicked edge in his voice as he chuckles, the sound low and satisfied.
