Blood Claim by Laura Mykles (free e books to read .txt) 📕

Hunter was flying. The force of his climax echoed in his chest, welled in every bead of sweat, jumped in his synapses, and left a buzzing in his ears. He hung in a euphoric cloud, bathed in the heat of intense pleasure, wrapped in a sheet of strength that was at once both comforting and restraining. His mind slowly drifted back to make contact with his body, a heavy, sated exhaustion blanketing him. That orgasm had come from the center of his being.

Languid as a drug addict floating on the effects of an unprecedented high, Hunter didn't resist being rolled onto his stomach. Malcolm stretched out full length along his back, the vampire's powerful thighs pushing Hunter's open and up to allow Malcolm's thick cock to nestle snugly between his cheeks.

A low murmur growled distinctly in his ear, and anticipation shot through every fiber in Hunter's hypersensitive body as the vampire announced, “Now that the edge is gone from your immediate need ... we do this right."

"Edge?” His voice was breathless, his throat hoarse, dry, from panting. “That was a whole lot more than my edge, Malcolm."

"You just think it was.” A hard nip of teeth pinched the flesh at the curve of his neck. Hunter shuddered, waiting for a solid bite. Nothing followed except Malcolm's whispered, “Trust me, pet, we've just begun."

Hunter tensed, expecting a sudden and harsh penetration. His skin tingled, gooseflesh erupting as tiny nibbles and wet, soothing licks bathed his shoulders and back. Malcolm. Malcolm lazily lapping the sweat off Hunter, tasting the flesh from his neck to the small of his back.

The shock wore off quickly, arousal returning, planting a twisted knot of anticipation in Hunter's belly and coaxing his limp cock, if not to fill, to at least take notice of the renewed attention. Malcolm inched down Hunter's back a lick and nibble at a time. He paused at the small scabbed cut on Hunter's back made by the flying bench pieces, sucking and worrying the raw flesh until Hunter squirmed and grunted his discomfort. Then he tore open the scratch with a razor-sharp slash of a tooth. It burned like being sliced with a honed paring knife.

Hunter could feel his blood well to the surface before Malcolm's greedy mouth sucked it away. The vampire's tongue pressed into the wound, spreading its edges so it bled more freely. It was painful in a small hurt sort of way, but Hunter's mind moved from the discomfort to realizing how erotic Malcolm's mouth felt pressed against his back, how sensually the vampire's lips massaged his flesh while they suckled, how stiff and blunt the tongue probing into his body felt, these same mouth, lips, and tongue that had just given him a blowjob like never before. It all became seductive and exotic, the pain now a tingling warmth that spread out and down to his groin.

His cock stirred and filled, rubbing over wrinkled sheets trapped under his hips. Before he could start thrusting against the linen for friction, Malcolm slid down between his legs, nudging his thighs open with his shoulders, giving silent commands to Hunter by a touch of his hand. A palm pressed lightly on the inner thigh told Hunter to raise his leg higher; a tap to his arm that was fumbling under him for a hold on his cock told him to remove his hand. He reluctantly obeyed without understanding how he knew what to do.

Hands massaged his ass cheeks in a slow, kneading rhythm that pushed them together tightly then moved them apart so the cool air struck the tight, hidden bud of his opening, making it ache with need. God, how he wanted to be filled, taken, claimed the way Malcolm had threatened to do. He wanted a long, thick cock inside of him, and more than that, he wanted it to be Malcolm's cock. He wanted Malcolm to take him, ravage him, make love to him. If he was going to die, this was the way to go.

A sudden stab of slick wetness mixed with the cool room air. Hunter grunted and jerked, his hands twisting the sheets in his fists to keep from rearing up out of bed. A firm bluntness probed at his eager hole, and Hunter groaned out his pleasure into the pillows. He couldn't stop himself from arching his back and raising his hips, pushing back onto the slick pleasure of Malcolm's jabbing, stroking, questing tongue. It was too much and not enough. Roughly thrilling against the sensitive nerve endings of the tight ring of guardian muscle, yet too little to dissolve the gaping, empty void of needing to be filled.

"I want more. I need more."

Gasping, Hunter tried to rise up on his knees, to press back and impale himself as deeply as possible on the tongue now bathing the rim of his opening. A hard, thundering slap to one cheek made him gasp and freeze, the firecracker of sudden pain unexpected. A large hand placed on the small of his back froze him in place on his knees, supported by his own hands and trembling thighs in an awkward half-crouch. He stayed that way, panting and trembling, silent, Malcolm's tongue still teasing the rim of his asshole. Finally, the hand moved from his back to one hip, steadying him, drawing Hunter into a more comfortable angle.

A fingertip played over the moist opening, rubbing light circles over the wrinkled, puckered edges, pushing into the yielding center just enough that Hunter could feel the stretch and anticipate the coming fullness. But the finger never ventured further, retreating again and again to rub big and small loops on his skin, its tantalizing trail occasionally made slicker by a darting jab of tongue.

Hunter could barely stay upright. His body trembled with need, and his skin prickled with sizzling bolts of growing desire. His cock hung free between his spread thighs, full and heavy. With his forehead pressed into