He lowered the fabric carefully below her breasts, going still for a moment as he stared. He suppressed a groan when his cock lurched. With his mind, he praised her beauty. Her blood sung an answer, surging hot and fast in her veins.
He reached for the hem of her dress and brought it up to her waist. She whimpered when he drew down her tiny, white bikini underwear over her sandals. He came back over her on his hands and knees, his nostrils flaring to catch the exquisite scent of her arousal. He tossed aside his shirt, letting the warm summer sun beat down on his skin, and spread Christina’s pale thighs. He could have as easily stopped himself from eating her pussy at that moment, from drowning in the sweet juices she gave him in such abundance, as he could have single-handedly changed the direction of the earth on its axis.
She moaned and thrashed in her sleep. He stilled her hips with his hands, adamant about not being denied her delicious, vitessence-rich cream, her soul-infused juices. He drank hungrily, bringing her to climax again and again. When an object struck the hedges, Saint blinked, rising slightly out of his carnal entrancement. He heard the young man talking and laughing as he retrieved the Frisbee out of the bushes just feet away.
Saint plunged a forefinger in and out of Christina’s sleek vagina and rubbed her clit vigorously with a stiffened tongue.
She went rigid and shuddered as she came once again. He subtly kept her in the dream with his mind while he milked every last delicious tremor out of her body and lifted his head. He licked his lips, still hungry for her, but hurting, too.
Hurting so much.
The muscles of her lithesome thighs felt supple in his hands when he pushed them wide and eyed her glossy, vividly pink cunt.
“I could drink your cream forever.” His voice was soft and low, but somehow Saint knew Christina heard him, that she focused on him, heedless of the sound of the men bantering and laughing just feet away, the muted noise of traffic in the distance, even the warm, beating rays of the sun on her skin. She’d gone entirely still except for the pulse fluttering wildly at her throat.
He unbuttoned his jeans, his eyes never leaving her face. He cupped his aching balls and resituated them over the leather harness he wore to secure his heartluster to his thigh. His face tightened in a grimace when he fisted an erection so tight, so full, it felt ready to burst through the skin. He came down over her and kissed her lips lightly. He groaned at the sensation of his sensitive cock-tip next to her warm, juicy slit. He pressed.
It took some effort to work his way into her tight channel. By the time he was sheathed completely, he sweated and panted from the energy he expended not to blast his seed into her in what felt as if it would be the most powerful orgasm he’d ever experienced.
She gloved him like she’d been tailor-made for his cock—sleek, wet, tight. Her vitessence vibrated wildly around her, flowing into him…energizing him, enlivening him. It must have given him the strength he required not to give in to his almost overwhelming desire to give her his seed then and there.
He gritted his teeth as he began to pump.
He lost himself in Christina, lost himself in the rich, golden minutes that stretched into another dimension. A cocoon of sunshine and the essence of Christina encapsulated him. His desire was so raw, so painful, it felt like an open wound. But, just when it became unbearable, Christina’s vitessence filled him, soothed the emptiness…magicked his flesh to life.
He drank her in greedily. Her vitessence crackled and sparked as he fucked her—hard now, demanding. He braced himself on his hands and stared at her face as he drove into her again and again. He took and he took…more than he’d ever taken…more than he’d taken from his Iniskium victims, who he’d drained of all life. Yet, her energies continued to flow into him in pounding waves.
She clenched his cock as she climaxed. Her vitessence slammed into him with the strength of an energy tsunami. He fell on her in mindless need. Her blood was rich…so sweet. He drank it while his cock jerked viciously inside her tight sheath, shooting his seed to her farthest reaches.
He became conscious by slow degrees that everything had gone fuzzy, like he experienced the world through an insulating barrier. Sweat rolled into his eyes, the salt burning him. He blinked in rising awareness and slowly withdrew his fangs from Christina’s throat.
Her face had gone pale beneath her sex-flushed, pink cheeks.
“Christina?” he asked shakily. But she didn’t stir from her deathly stillness.
He groaned in misery. He’d drained her. Not completely—but he’d harmed her nonetheless. He fell on her in desperation. His mouth fastened on her parted lips. It was a kiss only in the strictest definition. He poured energy back into her, transfusing her with the vitessence that he’d stolen.
Eventually, he felt the steady glow of her vitessence once again. Her color returned and her breath became soft and even.
He lifted his head. He’d nearly murdered the most exquisite thing he’d ever experienced. His cock was still swollen inside her. He couldn’t run, couldn’t escape the evidence of his foul deed.
He stared at her while he steeped in horror and regret. When the swelling of his cock dissipated sufficiently, he withdrew from her, his face tightening in anguish at the reawakening of his hunger.
After he redressed her, he waited covertly outside the entrance to the clearing, ensuring that she wasn’t bothered while she finished her nap. When she left a half hour later, she wore a dazed, uncertain expression that cut at him deeply. Saint recalled how he’d wanted to make her smile last night when she’d seemed so sad after her breakup with her boyfriend.
He hadn’t made her happy, maybe, but he’d brought her pleasure. Sexual gratification was one of the few things a parasitic creature like him could give a human.
But he could never again give Christina sexual pleasure. Perhaps next time he wouldn’t be able to stop taking from her…and taking…and taking.
Chapter Eighteen
Alison paused in the process of searching in Christina’s bathroom vanity cabinet for Children’s Tylenol. She turned around abruptly, her hand flying to the back of her neck. She looked around nervously, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
She was completely alone in the coach house. The sensation of air flowing across the skin of her nape must have been her imagination. She’d felt so secure up at Whitby earlier, but now all the frightening memories of what had occurred in the tunnels came back to her in graphic detail.
She turned around and grabbed a bottle. Christina had requested the liquid form of the fever reducer, concerned that Aidan wouldn’t wake up sufficiently to swallow a pill. Alison was still confused by what had occurred in Aidan’s room tonight, but Christina had said she would try to explain later. Alison agreed that getting something from the coach house to help Aidan needed to be the priority.
She really liked that kid, she thought regretfully as she walked out of the bathroom.