The Immortals After Dark 1: The Warlord Wants Forever

She began trembling as she donned the bustier, and the material at the top skimmed over her hard ni**les so sweetly. She was already wet with anticipation.

After dressing, she lay on the bed, fantasizing about him inside her as his big hands worked her body. Would he drink her? She pictured him driving into her from behind, the length of his body stretched over hers to take her neck as well.

Her fingers found their way down her belly and into her panties. He was supposed to be back soon, but did she really care if he caught her? She'd already done it for his pleasure, and what would he do if he found her like this and didn't like it - break up with her?

A stroke on her clitoris had her back arching. Had she ever been so wet? No, not until she'd impatiently waited in a vampire's lair in tight black satin to seduce a warlord.

Her eyes closed and her legs fell wide as she ran her finger lower. When she opened her eyes, half-lidded, she found Wroth staring at her from the foot of the bed.

"Couldn't wait?" His voice was husky, his eyes dark. He was already ripping off his clothes, his shaft bulging against the material of his pants.

She shook her head.

Wroth had known his Myst was a pagan, but she'd never truly looked it until he found her pleasuring herself in his bed in black hose, garters and satin, legs spread with abandon. Her glorious red hair haloed out along the pillow and her hand was in her panties delicately stroking her sex.

She hadn't stopped at his arrival.

"I couldn't have dreamed you'd be like this. I believe I'm dreaming now."

She arched her back.

"Were you thinking of me?" Say yes... He didn't think he'd ever wanted to hear anything so badly.

Her whiskey voice was as sexy as her body. "Yes, Wroth."

He groaned. "What were you thinking of?"

"Of you drinking me while you were inside me," she said, moaning the last words.

Craving his bite too? "A dream."

She licked her lips. "In your dream do you make me wait for you much longer?"

"You want this freely?" He reached to unbuckle his belt, surprised to find how difficult it had become. Finally, he just tore it apart. Her hips rolled in reaction.

"Yes."

"No games?"

"No," she panted, "just need you inside me."

"Your body wants to be f**ked?"

She gasped, her fingers teasing quicker. "Yes."

"By me?"

"Yes," she moaned.

He'd anticipated it would take months of planning to wear her down, until she truly wanted him, and they wouldn't have to play at commands and power.

Yet here she was stroking herself in his bed as she awaited his return. In his bed, waiting. It was too impossible, and he grew suspicious. "Convince me."

Her gaze flickered over his face, her eyelids heavy as she slowly, sensuously drew her fingers away from herself. She rose, sauntered to the wall, then tugged aside the flimsy string of her wisp of underwear.

Without a word, she simply spread her legs and leaned forward until her forearms rested against the wall. When the position raised her ass and bared her lush sex, he rasped, "You make a compelling argument." He was overwhelmed by the sight of her flesh waiting to be filled and by the fact that she began this, had masturbated to thoughts of him f**king her...

He kicked his boots off, ripping his clothing away, then stood behind her. He slipped his thumb into her tightness, briefly closing his eyes to find her so luscious and slick. Her entire body was trembling, which affected him so much. With a groan he replaced his thumb with one, then two fingers. "In my dream I do f**k you. But I start slowly, feeding my c**k into you inch by inch. When you're dripping wet and ready, I f**k you with all the strength in my body."

With a little cry, she bent down more, raising her ass up higher. "What do I do?" she breathed.

"You come again and again from no command, just from pleasure."

He spread her, grasped himself, then fought not to plunge into her when the head touched her dewy heat. He shuddered violently from the battle, but wouldn't reward this gift from her by hurting her tight little sheath.

Yet the head was barely inside her when lightning exploded outside - because she was already coming, clawing furrows into the wall, gasping, "Wroth, now...please!"

"I am..." he groaned, clutching her hips, straining his every muscle to enter her slowly, to make this good for her -

His eyes widened when he felt her claws sink into his ass to yank him into her.

"Hard," she growled in a throaty voice.

"Don't hurt," he choked out, then with an answering growl, he thrust into her, forcing his c**k through the squeezing spasms of her orgasm as though through a tightened fist. Even when he was seated deeply, she continued to climax around him. He could have stilled and let her body milk him.

But he wanted to f**k her. To take her so fiercely she would forget other men. To brand her as his own. He clenched her hips, withdrew, then rocked into her, hitting the end of her sex.

"Yes!" she cried.

"Can you know what that does to me?" he rasped, grinding his hips, stirring her. She moaned, hanging on to the wall. "To see you finger yourself to thoughts of me?" He withdrew completely then fell into her with another brutal thrust.

"Ah Wroth...yes, oh, God..." She came again suddenly, the manor shaking from the lightning. "Drink," she sobbed to his disbelief. "Oh, God, please drink from me."

He ripped the lace to bare her br**sts, then covered them with his hands, fingers pinching and tugging her ni**les as he pulled her to his chest.

"You want my bite?"