“I love this. I love how you make me feel. Please drink from me. I've never known that kind of pleasure.”
 

Ruark chuckled, sitting up slowly. “Where?” Fingers caressed her shoulder and throat, tracing the small marks left from the previous night.
 

Her head lifted slowly, eyes bold with lust. “Wherever you want. This isn't just a Goth club, but one for...your kind, right? Surely a mark would clear up any confusion.” Her knees parted slightly, a peak of red patent leather growing brighter as the black webbing stretched.
 

Ruark picked her up with ease and placed her on the table. Her hands fell to his shoulders, not sure where she was going until he settled her. “Spread yer thighs.” His voice was deep, pounding through her blood as they locked eyes. She pulled the front dress panel up and over her hip, propping a foot on the edge of the bench. Her thighs spread slowly, watching his face as she did his bidding.
 

He looked to the ceiling giving thanks to the gods for her, moving in closer to the creamy expanse of flesh. His fingers traced her leg before he kissed the silken skin.
 

Her eyes closed as his cool lips pressed into her warm flesh, fingers running into his hair, pulling his lips to the sensitive flesh just shy of the thong.
 

She whimpered as soft nips and kisses stalled short of her goal, pleading with her deep blue lust filled eyes. Ruark allowed her to see his fangs grow as he met her gaze, licking over her thigh, yanking her thong aside. His breath fanned across her moist silken lips as she panted softly, lifting her hips in invitation.
 

“Someone is a little wanton,” he chuckled.
 

Brett threw her head back on a low moan, hips pushing forward, begging for relief. “Please, Ruark. I've wanted you since I woke. My neck throbs and I want it again.”
 

Ruark smiled smugly, turning swiftly to bite into her flawless thigh. Fangs pierced that sweet flesh to release the ambrosia pounding through her veins. Three fingers thrust into her tight wet sheath at the same moment to pleasure her as he drank.
 

She screamed in primal release, the hot rush of his bite making her buck against his fangs. Inner muscles clenched around the invasion, crying out in complete abandon, riding his hand greedily for release as the soft suck of his lips pulled blood from her thigh.
    

The suit yanked out of the smart one's grip. “You hear that? She's a screamer, man. We should be giving it to her. She wanted us.”
     

The other man shook his head. “She's Phoenix's woman, John. Ye don't mess with anything of his.”
    

Ruark drank slowly but deeply from his lover, allowing her to enjoy the perfection that was his dark kiss. Fingers thrust into her, keeping her full as he took what she freely offered. Her life’s fluid was so sweet he wondered how he would live without it for the few days he must give her to recover. He closed his eyes enjoying the taste, fingers stroking deep to reach her g-spot as his thumb circled her bud of pleasure.
    

Brett purred in the back of her throat, riding his thrusting fingers until her warm rush of pleasure pooled in his palm. She panted and moaned in sated appreciation as the sensual draw at her thigh lengthened her orgasm, spiking aftershocks with each gentle pull of his mouth.
     

Ruark licked the tiny pinpricks closed after he swallowed his last mouthful, withdrawing his fingers.
     

John stalked around the dance floor, pausing at the curtain of the booth, friends urging him on as the smart one hissed at them. “He'll kill you for this. Ye don't mess with The Phoenix. He won't bother with the Elder to take ye down. Ye shouldn't encourage that weak mortal in his folly!” John yanked open the curtain as the silent will of the group pushed him, the smart one dashing away before all hell broke loose.
     

Ruark lifted his eyes as Brett lay back on the table, her breathing tight and shallow as she tried to open her eyes. The intense pleasure still burned through her veins making all conscious movement impossible. He carefully closed her thighs and placed a kiss above her knee, not looking back to the intruder.
     

John looked on in complete lust at the prone figure across the table. “Give permission or I'm taking her without it.” He was stupidly reckless, the will of the rogue vampires pushing him forward to grab the back of Ruark's silk shirt.
     

Ruark growled loudly as he dragged him into the booth baring fangs. The vampires laughed as the curtains fluttered behind the disappearing mortal near soiling himself at the site of fangs tinged pink with blood. “Holy mother of God...”
     

Ruark leaned closer, fingers wrapping around John’s throat. “Ye have a death wish, boy?” he snarled pinning him back on the table.
     

Brett moaned, drawing the man’s flat brown eyes darted over to her and back to Ruark, choking around his grip. “I just wanted the girl. They told me I could have her.”
 

 

© 2006 Heather M Cannon

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