Page 28 of Taste of Blood
And then he proceeds to beat the hell out of the man, delivering a flurry of punches and kicks until Smyth is writhing in agony on the floor. He whines for a while and then even that goes silent, and still Cord continues to kick and stomp on him until his body is unrecognizable.
When he finally stops, he’s breathing heavily, his knuckles and boots covered in blood, his hair wild around his face. Throughout this I’ve maintained my position by the door, watching a stranger I’ve known most of my life deliver his own form of justice. To say I’m affected would be an understatement, but what surprises me is how aroused the violence has made me. Maybe it’s some latent part of my vampire nature, but I’m actually turned on by this version of Cord.
He unclenches his fists and stares down at Smyth’s mangled body for several minutes, and just when I think he’s lost himself to the violence, he seems to come out of it and turns around, facing me, his normally warm blue eyes steel gray and empty.
I jump back as he strides toward the front door and yanks it open, reaching out to retrieve the axe.
“You might want to step outside for this,” he mutters, and I realize he’s talking to me. I shake my head and stand my ground, and he shrugs and raises the axe in a wide arc before bringing it down on the fallen vampire’s neck.
There’s a sickening crunch of bone, and blood flies everywhere, spraying the walls, the furniture, Cord, and even a little on me.
It takes two swings of the axe to separate Smyth’s head from his body. I swallow back my own disgust, schooling my expression to remain blank. Cord drops the head of the axe on the floor and leans on the handle.
I wait a minute to see what he’s going to do, then push myself away from the wall and step closer to him.
“Cord?” He doesn’t seem to hear me. I reach a tentative hand out and touch his arm. “Cord? Are you all ri–?”
He drops the axe and turns to me, grabbing my tie and pulling me close, his lips crashing into mine. It takes me a couple of seconds to realize what’s happening before I wrap my arms around his neck and press my body against him, my tongue tangling with his.
God I’ve missed kissing him.
The next thing I know he’s tearing my shirt open, his hand sliding down my chest to slip inside the waist of my pants and fist my cock through my thin briefs.
“Fuck,” he growls in my ear. “I fucking want you so bad right now.”
I don’t know who undresses who or how it even happens, but in a matter of minutes we’re skin to skin as he shoves me against the wall and reaches around to finger my ass.
“No lube,” he pants as he bites my lip.
“Don’t care. Fuck me.”
He growls again and turns me around to face the wall. I feel the hard shaft of his cock against my crack as he spits onto his fingers then rubs it in my hole.
“Cord–”
“Shut up. Don’t talk. Don’t say a fucking word to ruin this.”
When the head of his cock enters me, I bite my lip to keep from groaning. Dry fucking is painful, but the fact that it’s Cord makes it easier to ignore the discomfort.
I push back against him, urging him inside, and draw in a ragged breath. My senses are suddenly filled with him, leather and sandalwood mixed with his sweat, and below that, the intoxicating scent of blood.
My cock is rigid against my belly and I rub it against the smooth surface of the wall to get some friction. I want to feel his hand on me. Feel it squeezing me. Pumping me.
But I won’t ask. I won’t give him a reason to stop.
He humps his rock-hard body against mine, shoving his cock all the way in. Seating himself inside me, drilling against my prostate. Dissolving my self-control.
I have all I can do not to come.
But I don’t want to. Not yet. Not before I feel him come apart in me.
His mouth hovers over my ear, his teeth biting down on my lobe, his breath hot against me, sending a jolt of need searing through me.
I feel my control slipping.
He’s always had this effect on me, but this time it’s multiplied by a hundred because it’s been so long.
He pulls out.
