I don't know how long I writhed against him, pleasure rending me asunder with every searing flick of his tongue. When he rose up and tore the front of his pants open, I was still shuddering from orgasm, but seeing that thick length of flesh swelled need in me all over again. I slid down, pulling him on top of me. Then my head fell back from the force of his kiss as his mouth claimed mine.
His taste was sharper, saltier, and so explicitly carnal it made me ache where I was wet. His body was an inferno, and anticipation cut my emotions in a visceral swath when he reached down between us. I broke our kiss and bit his shoulder without thinking, shocked at how natural it felt. Pleasure rippled through me as I sank my fangs deeper. Whether it was mine or his, I didn't know, and when he yanked my hips up to meet his thrust, I didn't care.
I stopped biting him to scream when his scorching flesh pushed inside me. Had it felt like this before? No, it couldn't. I wouldn't have been able to stand the exquisite clenching of my inner muscles when he ground against my clitoris after he could go no deeper. Or the bliss when his mouth closed over my throat and he bit down where my pulse would have been. Then he thrust forward, my throat still captured in his fangs, and the sense of being utterly dominated and yet never more powerful ripped away my inhibitions.
I tore his mouth away, barely noticing the sting from his fangs as my skin tore. Then I wrapped my arms around him and bit him in the same spot. Pleasure overloaded my nerve endings from the connection to his feelings, driving me to a frenzy. He moved faster, deeper, his grip turning bruising, and I gloried in it, sinking my fangs into his neck to match every hard thrust. My nails ripped across his back, drawing a slickness that wasn't sweat. Ecstasy grew along with an inner ache that demanded more without caring if it was too much. He was too hot, too big, too rough - and I'd die if he stopped.
I tore my mouth away from his neck, gasping, "I love you so much," right before another orgasm left me shaking from its intensity. Through half-slitted eyes I saw Vlad's head was thrown back, streaks of crimson marring the sleek line of his throat. Then his head lowered and he stared at me while his searing hands stroked my face.
"And I love you, my wife."
I didn't have a chance to respond. He slid down, his mouth descending between my legs with passionate ferocity. I arched against him with a moan that was half rapture, half frustration. This felt incredible, but I wanted him inside me again -
All thought cleared my mind when his fangs replaced his tongue, piercing my clitoris instead of licking it. White-hot pleasure blasted through me, making electricity shoot from my right hand. Smoke curled from the hole it drilled into the bed, but all I could do was clutch the sheets as he began to suck with long, deep pulls.
His name left my throat in a strangled sob. Another strong suction had me shouting it, and then I couldn't think enough to do that. All I could do was clutch him while wordless cries tore from me, and when he flipped me over after a final, mind-shattering suction, I couldn't even move.
He pulled my hips up, a deep thrust drawing another choked cry from me. My flesh throbbed and tingled, tightening around him convulsively as he withdrew. He lifted me, drawing me into his lap. Another arch of his hips cleaved him into me again. I gripped his thighs as I rocked back against him, feeling his burning lips on my neck when he drew my hair aside to kiss me there. Then there was nothing except the fierce rhythm that brought me to climax the instant before he reached his, and the shudders that shook us within and without.
When Vlad let me go, I fell back against the mattress, not panting only because I didn't need to breathe. I'd never smoked before, but if this cell had a cigarette, I would've lit up in salutary commemoration.
Then my stomach clenched. My satiation vanished, replaced by hunger so intense that I began to shake.
Vlad jerked me up, pushing me against the wall with one hand while the other punched numbers on a keypad I hadn't noticed before. A drawer slid out of the stone surface, and one glance at what it contained made my mind go blank with need.
The next few minutes were a whirling carousel of pain and relief. When my sanity returned, I was still against the wall, sucking at the remains of a plastic bag while Vlad watched.
He held out his hand and I forced myself to relinquish the bag even though it had some luscious crimson streaks remaining. Still, I would not act like an animal a moment longer than necessary. He took it and the other cellophane remains at my feet, depositing them in the same slot the bags had come from.
"How did you know?" I managed to ask calmly.
A shrug. "It's the same with all new vampires. Sex, anger, and violence will trigger your hunger. Until you can control it, you need to learn to anticipate it."
I glanced down. Blood splashed my front from how madly I'd torn at the plasma bags, making me look like an actress from a p**n ographic horror movie. I had several more days of mindless feeding frenzies ahead, but some things couldn't wait for me to master my new hunger.
I went over to the bed and wrapped the sheet around me. What I had to say was too serious to talk about while naked.
"So you figured out Shrapnel was the traitor," I began.
A snort cut me off. "I didn't think you cut him into pieces because he accidentally drove you off a cliff."
I held his gaze. "He was the only traitor in your house, but he wasn't the only accomplice."
Vlad's gaze turned bright green. "Explain."
"Sandra was passing messages - "