Page 74 of Trapped for Her Blood
He moans, and the pressure holding me lets up. I rise, moving my throat closer to his lips. His erection grazes my pubic hair and then my clit. Instinctively, I tilt my pelvis, and his hardness parts my wet folds.
Groaning, I pump against him, letting my divided wetness slide over the length of his stiff rod. I can’t begin to control my movements.
Gripping my ass, he pulls me tighter, helping my dampness stroke him as his hardness strokes me.
“Holy fuck, little dove. Ho-ly fuck.” His voice is strained and deep. “Forget my thirst. I need to be inside you first.”
His hardness strikes my clit, and I gasp.
“Can we…” I can barely speak. “Is it possible…” The idea of fucking and feeding—both at the same time—flashes through my mind. Both acts brought intense pleasure, and it’s almost impossible to imagine how they might feel together. “Can we…at the same time?”
“That’s very… We shouldn’t…” Gripping my hips, he stills me and looks into my eyes. “Yes, that’s possible. Very fucking possible. Vampires do it all the time. But with a human…” He exhales a shuddering breath. “Fuck it.”
Lifting me, he positions his head at my entrance. I moan, feeling his wet heat throb and twitch against me.
I try to lower myself. But shaking his head, he holds me still with one arm, my entrance pulsing against his hard damp head, and my channel crying out for him to breach the gates and come inside.
Brushing aside my hair, he tilts my head and his sharp fangs and lips press against my throat.
Breathing against me, he’s inhaling me instead of biting. The pressure of his fangs stings, but he hasn’t yet broken my skin, and I fight not to squirm. My body’s so desperate for more, so much more, so eager to feel everything his body is threatening to unleash.
Then finally, he lowers me an inch, and the head of his penis stretches my opening—just a tiny bit—the pressure painful and almost unbearable, with him in but not in, and making me yearn for more.
A moan rumbles up from inside him and then, in swift simultaneous motions, he tugs down on my hips as he plunges his fangs into my throat.
I cry out at the shock of the swift penetration—but not in pain—in ecstasy, as his cock fills me completely at the same time his venom hits my bloodstream.
After the rough, almost brutal start, he pauses inside me, neither drinking nor moving, as if wanting to make sure I’m okay, and then his lips latch tightly over the puncture wounds on my throat.
He lifts my hips and then pulls me down over him, and his fangs sink deeper.
I lose all control of my body, of my mind.
His strong hands at my hips join forces with gravity, sliding me slowly a few long slow times over his throbbing hot cock, and while he does this I can sense his venom invading every cell in my body. The pleasure is beyond intense.
Then he stops.
I want to participate, to ride him, to bounce on his cock, but I can’t. His grip on me is so tight, and my mind and body are fully consumed with the task of absorbing the pleasure of his venom and his cock.
Holding me still, he sucks on my throat and I feel another overpowering rush inside me. Every part of me is singing now, offering itself to him willingly, and it’s almost like I’m being touched—stroked and teased and pleasured—everywhere, from the inside.
And as he drinks, his arms start to raise and lower me at a slow, languorous pace, so much slower than he’s fucked me before, and it’s like my senses have heightened, my nerves awakened. I feel every vein and ridge of his cock, sense its texture, and also all the different nerve endings inside me that his rod abrades.
I’m so wet. My body producing more lubrication than I thought possible, and even with his girth stretching me, he slides easily through my body, the friction heating me, making me even crazier with need.
A battle brews in my blood stream, like my blood simultaneously wants to rush in two directions at once—to my throat and my sex—and all my nerves sing a joyous, erotic song.
Again and again, his strong arms lift me until the thick tip of his cock stretches my entrance, and then he slowly lowers me, while thrusting upward, each time burying his cock so deep he must feel the pressure too.
He’s drinking from me slowly but steadily, and I feel the effect on his body. His muscles growing, his skin heating, and his cock throbbing inside me, growing bigger with each thrust and expanding each time it’s fully seated, massaging all my most sensitive places.
I’m close to an orgasm, but at the same time that release feels a million miles away, unattainable, like this exquisite torture may never end.
His fangs release, and he gasps, breathing heavily against my neck and licking my wound. Then he takes my lips in a deep and passionate kiss. He holds my head still as our mouths link, as he fiercely demands as much from my lips and my tongue, as he took from my vein.
And at the same time the rest of me continues to absorb his pumping thrusts, coming with more force now, but still magnificently slow, making me want more.
The kiss breaks and he looks into my eyes. “Fuck me, little dove.” His voice is raspy, like he can’t get a full breath. “What are you doing to me?” His hands slide back to my hips and he slides me up on his cock.
