Bitten by Ecstasy: 2 (Dark Judgment) Page 15

  Holy Lady.

  And suddenly the word he’d uttered seemed completely apropos since they were surrounded by a roomful of people doing just that—fucking.

  Couples, threesomes, fourso—

  Shit! Was that even possible? Her eyes widened. Uh, apparently so.

  Vampires and humans in varied states of undress lay across leather sofas, reclined on short upholstered chaises, bent over chairs, writhed on the thickly carpeted floor…

  On an upholstered bench a willowy blonde straddled the lap of a platinum-haired male. The heavy, waist-length fall of her hair brushed the tangle of material bunched at her waist as she undulated slowly on the male’s lap. Head thrown back, eyes closed and lips parted, she appeared in the throes of pleasure…and so did the vampire who sucked from the curve of her lush, naked breast.

  Another woman, stripped naked, flesh flushed a rosy pink, lay on the deep, wide cushions of a ruby leather couch. Three males knelt over and beside her. Moans and the rumble of low voices filtered through the air as one vampire gripped her hips in his hands and surged forward, sinking his cock between her bare, glistening folds. His sharp-tipped fingers spread her thighs open for his fixed, crimson stare as his thick penis thrust and withdrew in a hard, steady rhythm. Hunger tightened his features, pulled his full lips away from white, pointed fangs.

  The second male looped an arm over her waist, his dark head bent over the juncture where his partner fucked the female. From her vantage point, Sinéad couldn’t glimpse his actions, but from the way the woman cried and panted, Sinéad could guess. The female bucked wildly as if trying to unseat them. Yet her fingers tangling in the second vampire’s hair belied the idea. The third male suckled her breast, his tongue lapping at her pink nipple as if the peak was a delicious treat. A thin line of blood trailed over the side of the abundant mound and the male quickly abandoned the pointed tip to follow it, licking the bright rivulet and her flesh with a sigh of pleasure.

  Sinéad’s breath snagged in her throat. Her heart pounded against her chest. This was so wrong. So prurient and lewd and…and…hot. No! In horror, she mentally backed away from the ludicrous thought, but it was too late. Heat—warm, shameful, wicked heat—coiled in her stomach, snaked through her veins and pooled in the sensitive, damp flesh between her legs. An ache—not unlike the delicious pulsing in the shower earlier—set up deep inside where a terrible—but, Sweet Nef, wonderful—throbbing undulated, clenched…

  Bastien’s head whipped toward her. His nostrils flared wide. Green eyes flickered crimson, green, then crimson again.

  “Bastien,” she said, digging her nails into his hand, “your eyes.”

  He blinked as if emerging from a trance. His grip tightened around her fingers and she fought not to wince as the bones were squeezed against one another. The flames in his gaze flared then sputtered—red, green, red, green— like a wire with a short in it.

  Finally, he lowered his lashes, exhaled. A heartbeat later, she stared into his emerald eyes and the clasp on her hand loosened. It was her turn to breathe a sigh of relief as blood rushed back into her aching fingers.

  “Faolan,” a sultry voice penetrated the soundtrack of sex and debauchery. A statuesque female with a gold, severely cut bob approached them. A strapless electric blue dress hit her mid-thigh, exposing miles of slim, porcelain thigh. Though she appeared no older than twenty-one, the lascivious gleam in her black eyes declared her true age which Sinéad would put at anywhere from old to old-as-hell. “Goody. You brought a guest. And…” She inhaled. The unholy light in her gaze glittered brighter as she focused on Sinéad. A wide smile curved her hussy-red painted lips. “A snack.”

  A low, feral growl rolled over the room like a dark drum of thunder. Faolan stilled and the grin tumbled from the blonde’s mouth. Activity halted in the room, heads whipped their way and uneasy glances slid in the direction of the beast quivering with back-the-fuck-up vibes.

  “No one touches her,” Bastien snarled, shifting in front of Sinéad and blocking her from the vampires’ view. “She’s mine.”

  Sinéad laid a palm on Bastien’s spine. Though he didn’t speak, his rage and worry were a wave of heat blanketing her mind.

  “Liese didn’t mean your human any harm, Bastien,” Faolan assured him. “Please.” He swung an arm wide. “We have wine, food. Feel free to partake of anything…or anyone…that tempts you.” A pause. “Unless you have decided against joining us…”

  “He’s testing you,” Sinéad warned.

  “I know.” Bastien inclined his head. “Forgive me. I’m a bit possessive of what belongs to me. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Enjoy yourself, my friend.”

  Bastien tugged on her hand and led her across the room. He snaked pass two females double-teaming a human male on a chair and stepped over a couple going at it on the floor as if they were featured players in a porn flick. She should look away—the polite thing would be to look away. But even if she kept her eyes shut from now until the moment they escaped this orgy, there was no way she could forget the vivid images of grinding and moaning couples. Or forget her reaction. Lady. Did that make her a latent freak?

  “Look at me,” Bastien demanded as he drew her against his chest and pressed her back against the wall, “not them.”

  Not a problem. The air shot out of her lungs. Trapped between the rock-hard wall of his body and a vacant corner, she didn’t care about what positions and acts the others were involved in. All her attention had been commandeered by the thick thigh wedged between hers. Her fingers curled into the unyielding flesh of his waist.

  “They’re watching us.” Fire simmered in his penetrating stare, transforming his eyes into a mesmerizing tangle of jade and blood-red. His palms slapped the wall, his arms caging her head. “They want us to perform for them like fucking animals in a zoo.” Rage poured down their link. “To hell with this. I’m getting you out of here.”

  “No.” Her nails dug into his skin. “We can’t throw away this opportunity to get close to the Cross.”

  “We’ll find another way.”

  Alarmed at the implacable note in his voice, she glared at him. “This is the quickest. Faolan knows about the Cross, Bastien. We both saw the knowledge in his reaction. It would be madness to squander this chance.”

  He closed his eyes. His features twisted as a spasm of emotion crossed his face. “You deserve better than this.” His lashes lifted and his eyes were filled with regret and flinty resolve. The resolve scared her. “I won’t, Sinéad—”

  She crushed her mouth to his.

  Taking advantage of his shock, she thrust her tongue between his parted lips as he’d taught her in those few torrid moments they shared a kiss. The heat simmering inside her since entering the private room ignited into a conflagration as she swept the interior of his mouth. And like her first experience, his taste flooded her senses like the sun’s rays washing over the earth as it rose in the morning sky.

  She groaned. Surged higher on her toes, pressed harder, dove deeper. And felt the moment Bastien snapped. His growl reverberated in her mouth, vibrated against the hard tight tips of her breasts. Hummed in her throbbing sex. He wrenched control of the kiss from her as his tongue stroked and conquered. The force of the embrace canted her head back until it bumped the wall. He bore down on her, his shoulders, chest and arms holding her prisoner to his marauding lips.

  At the same time, his thigh shifted, angled, pushed. A bolt of pleasure pierced her stomach. No. Lower. The sweet place at the top of her mound. Bastien ground against that spot again and jarring ecstasy leapt from her sex to her nipples and back down to the empty channel clenching and releasing high inside her. Oh. The pleasure was sharper, more acute than her fluttering caresses and strokes in the shower. She teetered on the toes of her boots, attempting to escape the strange sensations striking her with the force of an electrical current. On a strangled cry, Sinéad tore her mouth away from his and sucked in a tortured lungful of air.

 
“What—” she gasped.

  Bastien covered her lips again, swallowing the question and her confusion. He moved, maneuvering her deeper into the corner without lifting his head or easing the pressure between her legs. While her mind had yet to catch up with what was happening, her body coasted on a much faster learning curve. Or maybe it was instinctual. Her hips rolled, rubbing her swollen flesh over his thigh. Delight shimmered through her, over her. She shuddered. And did it again.

  Oh.

  She burrowed her fingers in his long, heavy hair. She clutched the white-blond strands, holding his head steady as she cocked hers to the side, experimenting. A shiver danced down her spine. Oh yes. This angle is nice. His tongue speared, danced, tempted. And she surrendered.

  His big palm cradled her cheek. The tough pad of his thumb grazed the skin under her bottom lip before trailing down her jaw and neck to her breast. The first rake of his fingernail over her nipple sent a shot of pure pleasure to her sex. She jumped, whimpered.

  “Shhh…” he soothed, lifting his head. His lips were fuller, red and wet from their kiss. His eyes, still an eerie but compelling blend of emerald and crimson, narrowed. “Your pleasure belongs to me. Not them.”

  He brushed her lips with his and when he pinched her taut peak, she gritted her teeth, restraining the needy sound welling inside her. His slightly rough, rawer touch was different from her own experimental flicks. She couldn’t control the arch of her spine or the jerk of her hips, though. And Bastien didn’t seem to want her to.

  A rumble emanated from him, and his approval of her involuntary response glowed like a warm flame down their telepathic link. Her tentative exploration in the shower hadn’t prepared her for…for this. With just a kiss and a caress, he’d catapulted her into a sensual world she hadn’t known existed outside the clandestine, drunken gropings and couplings she’d witnessed in dark alleys or against the sides of buildings. Yet those fumblings, hurried movements and grunts didn’t resemble this alternate universe Bastien introduced her to. This differed from those like a gentle morning mist differed from a tearing, stinging rain.

  His hand cupped her breast, squeezed and molded her flesh. Talented fingertips circled and plucked the rigid tip until she almost howled with frustration and pleasure. He lowered his mouth to her neck. Teeth too sharp for normal canines scraped her throat.

  She stilled, panted. The painful yearning that tortured her while watching Bastien feed from Cyra’s wrist sliced through her again. It almost overtook the desire drumming in her blood. Over the centuries, she’d bit into the necks of countless vampires, had drunk their blood. The act had been as sexual as ordering fish ’n chips from a pub. Never had she considered it a connection, a bonding…an intimacy. Her grip on his hair tightened. She pressed him closer. Pierce me. Taste me. Take from me.

  As if he’d heard her silent plea, his teeth closed around the tendon in her neck. Not hard enough to break the skin, but firm enough she hoped the sharp tips would breach her throat… Her breath hitched as uncertainty, need and anticipation warred inside her. She’d never been fed from—before Bastien the thought would’ve been abhorrent—but now she wanted to know, to feel. She strained upward, attempting to create more pressure.

  Air whistled from between her lips. Her heart raced. But Bastien only licked her skin, sucking it tenderly before releasing her. Disappointment pricked her. A whisper-soft caress slid along the walls of her mind as his hand abandoned her breast and slid down her abdomen. He dropped his leg, cupped the back of her thigh and hooked her knee at his waist, spreading her wider, opening her farther. The throbbing in her sex increased. The small opening at the bottom of her folds spasmed. Grasped, released. Grasped, released.

  A cool, ventilated breeze kissed the skin of her bare legs. She glanced down. Her skirt was bunched high, almost revealing the place aching so terribly.

  “Bastien,” she murmured and caught the question in her voice. “Bastien, I—”

  A blunt-tipped finger slid through her wet crease, thrust into the narrow core of her body as a hard caress passed over that secret place at the top of her sex. A cry she couldn’t contain ripped free from her lips. Oh Lady. Oh damn. Pleasure so like the startling delight she’d drawn from her body bolted through her, converged in her sex like a steadily expanding supernova. This ecstasy he pulled from her flesh—from her soul—was sharper, heavier, just…more. It filled her until, once again, she hovered on that unknown precipice. Except instead of knocking on the door and pulling her back from the ledge, Bastien shoved her over. She shot into a dark pleasure-soaked abyss. Then she slammed into the bottom. And detonated.

  The power of it scared her.

  Sweet Nef, she wanted it again.

  Muted cries and moans clawed at her chest, spilled past her lips. She dragged her hands from the thick fall of Bastien’s hair and clutched his shoulders.

  Slowly, Bastien raised his head from her neck, stared down at her with unblinking eyes gone completely red. And inhuman. Large pupils like flaming orbs enlarged until they completely swallowed the ruby irises. He didn’t utter a word, not aloud or mentally, but a strong, wild surge ricocheted down their telepathic link—tumble of fierce energy jumping and snapping along the neural path. And in that moment she knew his beast. His hippogryph watched her out of eagle eyes kindled by hunger.

  “Bastien.”

  The sound of his name seemed to break him free of lust’s fiery grip. His eyes closed as he exhaled a harsh breath. Seconds crawled by before he lifted his lashes, meeting her gaze. The hippogryph was gone, his pupils returned to normal size. And while flames lurked, more green occupied his stare than red. Gentler than she would have believed him capable of at that moment, he removed his finger from her sex. She gasped, the caress sending tingles along sensitive nerves lining her channel.

  Hunger flared bright and hot again and, for an instant, she thought he might slide a finger back up inside her. She tensed. And wondered if her face exposed the anticipation tickling her stomach.

  Bastien’s expression hardened and he removed his touch and her hope. With brusque movements, he lowered her leg and righted her skirt. He stepped back, placing space between them.

  As her hands fell from his shoulders, she immediately missed and craved the unyielding crush of his body, the rough silk of his hair between her fingers, the slick press of his mouth. She wanted it all back. Wanted more of what had transpired between them. One glance around the room revealed in exact detail what that “more” entailed. But it didn’t include screwing with vampires on a floor or couch.

  No. If any screwing was going to happen, it would be with Bastien. And only Bastien.

  “We’re done,” he bit out.

  With this den of sin and sex?

  Sure.

  With what he’d started in this corner?

  Not by a long shot.

  Chapter Nine

  Shame had a caustic flavor, like bitter berries dipped in battery acid.

  Rage was like a high-octane cocktail of anger and fear garnished with guilt.

  Together they were a combustible combination of fucked up.

  Both churned in his stomach, sour and so close to exploding there should have been a ticking clock on his forehead. Snarling, Bastien shoved his fingers through his hair, fisting the strands as if they were the only things keeping him grounded. Too little, too late. He’d lost his tenuous grip on sanity the moment Sinéad kissed him in the middle of an orgy.

  He growled. Scrubbed a hand down his face. And inhaled the scent of Sinéad’s pussy on his finger.

  Shit.

  He closed his eyes as a convulsive shudder passed through him. Lifting the hand to his mouth, he slid the finger between his lips, curled his tongue around it. Even an hour later her essence lingered. Made him crave more than just the sensory memory of the cream that had flooded her slick, swollen lips. He wanted to dive into the source, have the smooth walls of her pussy milk his tongue and all her sweet juice quench his desperate thirst.

>   Sliding the finger free, he shook his head, disgusted. He had a feeling Sinéad should have a Surgeon General’s warning label plastered on her back. Sinéad is a drug that may be addictive.

  Her response had blown him away. She’d writhed against him, her slim hips jerking and riding his fingers like the stripper who’d worked the pole in the den. Her whimpers of pleasure had seared his ears and mind even as her sex convulsed in her first orgasm. Sinéad hadn’t admitted to it, but he’d known. Surprise had flashed like white lightning in her wide, silver eyes. Wonder had rippled across her lovely features seconds before passion tightened them.

  No, he hadn’t needed her to tell him it had been her first orgasm, her body had confessed it.

  And an entire room full of vampires had witnessed it.

  Shame and rage surged full force once more, scalding his chest and throat. His fingers tightened into fists and, though his talons ripped past his fingertips, he didn’t try to retract them. He welcomed the bite of pain as the razor-sharp tips pricked his palms—it didn’t center him, but punished him. He squeezed his fists harder.

  That should have never happened—her first moment of pleasure shouldn’t have been fodder for an audience of jaded, prurient creatures. It should have been special, intimate. It should have been private, damn it!

  Yet he’d been the one to expose her. His responsibility was to protect her. He’d failed. Miserably. What would Nicolai have done? Bastien couldn’t imagine Nico bringing Tamar anywhere near a place like Heaven’s Gate, much less allowing them to be surrounded by the enemy and becoming the erotic hors d’oeuvre for vampires. The warrior would have taken out every creature in the room soaked in lust and blood.

  But then Nico was a warrior and Bastien was…not.

  But there was another shame aggravating his conscience like a stone in the bottom of a shoe. Not one time while he’d had Sinéad pinned between his body and the wall—her mouth taking his in a kiss that made his balls ache, her pussy riding his thigh like a jockey—had Alesia entered his mind. Not. Fucking. Once.