Oliver's Hunger

He’d always loved sucking a woman, but the beautiful Asian girl in his arms was even more of a treat. To know that he could give her something she’d longed for for three years spurred him on. Licking higher up, he headed for her clit. The small bundle of nerves was already swollen, a sign of her arousal. He gently caressed it with his tongue. Ursula almost lifted off the bench, her body tensing.

“Easy, baby,” he appeased her. “I’ll be gentle.”

Yet that gentleness cost him: inside him, the beast wanted to be unleashed and exert its prowess on her. Holding back his wild side was a struggle he knew he would eventually lose. Still, he was determined to put up a fight. Because satisfying Ursula was more important right now than anything else. It would cement her trust in him; he was sure of it. And he wanted her to trust him.

With renewed determination, he continued to stroke his tongue over her tender organ, slowly putting more and more pressure on it. Ursula’s breathing changed, becoming more uneven. Her heartbeat pulsed through her body in a rapid rhythm, the sound amplified by his vampire hearing. Her excitement fueled his own, and he was painfully aware of the hard-on that strained against the zipper of his jeans, which he was still wearing in order not to drive his aching cock into her before she had found her release. Once he was naked, there was no telling what he would do.

Like a cat, Ursula twisted underneath him, her moans getting louder, her sighs more pronounced. He doubled his efforts, realizing she was close.

“It’s not working,” she said. “I can’t.” Frustration and disappointment collided in her voice.

Fuck! He wasn’t doing it right.

19

Ursula squeezed her eyes shut. She was so close, yet farther away from a climax than she’d ever been. Her body wasn’t complying, but was still holding on to the tension it had felt the last three years. As if the shackles were still tying her to her bed and her captors’ thoughts still invading her mind, preventing her from finding release.

“Baby, I’m sorry, I’m not doing it right,” she heard Oliver say.

She opened her eyes and watched him sit up. He looked distressed.

“It’s not your fault. I just can’t.”

His hand came up, tenderly stroking her cheek. “We’ll try something else.”

She shook her head. “It’s no use. My body doesn’t work that way anymore.”

Oliver scooted closer and put his arms around her. “Nonsense, baby. You’re just a little tense.” She sensed him hesitating. “Is it because I’m a vampire? Are you afraid that I’ll bite you?”

She met his eyes and noticed how he dreaded her answer. With a shake of her head, she tried to wipe away his concerns, but inside, she knew she carried a tiny speck of worry that he might lose control and bite her after all. She didn’t allow it to rise to the surface, not wanting to disappoint him further.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just . . . the memories of being tied up, of not being able to . . . ”

“Shh, I’ll make you forget.” He pressed a soft kiss on her lips then pulled back and released her from his embrace. “We’ll try something else.”

Wondering what he had in mind, she watched him shed his pants, boxers and shoes, before sitting back. Her eyes moved past the hairless sculpted chest and went to his massive erection. Even in the dim light of the van, it was hard to overlook. It was thick and long. Her womb clenched at the thought of feeling him inside her.

“Straddle me,” he demanded and leaned back.

Hesitantly, she followed his command and lifted one leg over his thighs, then braced herself on her knees. Oliver scooted forward to the edge of the seat, allowing his cock to point upwards like a tent pole.

“Now I want you to rub yourself against my cock.” He looked into her eyes. “Don’t take me inside you, just slide against me and find your rhythm.”

“But you . . . ”

“And don’t worry about me.” He grinned, making him look younger and so unlike a vampire. “I’m going to enjoy this just as much as I hope you will.”

When she felt his hands on her hips, she allowed him to guide her into the first movement, lowering herself so her sex slid against his erect shaft. Her wetness coated his cock, making her glide smoothly along it.

Oliver’s head fell back against the headrest. “Fuck!” he cursed, closing his eyes.

Encouraged by his reaction, she repeated the same movement. Up and down she moved, watching his face as he clenched his jaw and the cords in his neck bulged as if he were in pain. But she knew he wasn’t in pain. He was trying to hold back. For her. So that she could find release. Would another man be this selfless, or would he simply have sex with her, not caring if she achieved an orgasm or not?