Page 21 of The Vampire’s Ballerina

He meets my gaze again. His pupils are wide, nostrils flaring as he takes a deep inhale of my scent. My heart jumps, my pussy clenches, and my fingers fumble the next button.

I give him an awkward laugh. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“What you’re doing is perfect, dolcezza.” His fingertips press into my ass and his hips thrust up, his cock hardening beneath me.

I whimper as his length presses against my sensitive clit, the next button on his shirt finally popping open.

Peter’s eyes are filled with hunger now—hunger for me. For my blood.

A thrill races through me at that thought of him taking my blood. That his teeth will pierce my skin, and once again, I’ll experience that indescribable rush he gave me when he nicked my skin the other night. Only this time will be more intense and will last longer. This time, the feeling will continue instead of ending as abruptly as it began.

I undo the last button, and the shirt falls open, slipping down my shoulders to my elbows. I lean forward, pressing my bare chest against his. My lips part as our skin meets. I arch my neck and moan, long and slow, just as his fingers find my pussy.

“Where do you want me to bite you, Imogen?” Peter asks, voice rough with hunger. “Here?” His lips brush against my throat, pulling another moan from my mouth. Then he slides his hand to my thigh, brushing his thumb along the inside of my leg right next to my underwear. “Or here? Or maybe your wrist?”

He trails his nose down my arm, taking the shirt between his teeth and pulling it until it’s off of me. Then he repeats the same thing with the other sleeve.

“Yes.” I groan and roll my hips, and his fingertips dip inside me.

He chuckles, still stroking my inner thigh and kissing across my collarbone. “Which spot?”

I groan again and writhe harder against him. “All of them.”

His laugh deepens, vibrating in his chest, and I almost sob from frustration and anticipation.

“Please, Pietro.”

In a blur of movement, he lays me in front of the fireplace. The blanket is beneath me. Peter’s already removed his plaid flannel pants, and his long hard cock is ready and waiting between his muscular thighs. He hooks his thumbs in the sides of my underwear, dragging them down my legs and tossing them aside without a glance. His stare burns hotter than the roaring fire beside us.

My fists tangle in the thick blanket beneath me as Peter lowers himself between my legs, grazing his hands along the insides and spreading me wider when he reaches my thighs. I quiver in anticipation, and it takes everything I have to keep myself still, to not buck my hips towards his lips. He hovers over my entrance, his breath teasing me with the promise of his talented mouth.

He kisses my pussy. Just once, just a whisper of a kiss, but my thighs shake and my knuckles turn white as I grip the blanket tighter.

And then he’s devouring me, tasting and exploring my pussy with his lips and tongue. My eyes close as I groan, reveling in the feel of his mouth on me, in the pleasure he’s giving me.

But my heart races, my stomach fluttering with anticipation of what is to come. The moment I’ve been fantasizing about since that day in the theater, and even more so since he nicked my skin the other night.

His bite.

God, I want it. I want it more than anything. I want to not only feel that ecstasy again, but I want him to want my blood.

His fingers join his mouth, tracing my entrance, slipping in and out of me, circling and flicking my clit. I’m a writhing, panting, sweating, quivering mess in front of the fireplace, and he hasn’t even bitten me yet.

God, I need him to.

“Pietro…”

But before I can ask, before I can tell him, his mouth is on my inner thigh, sucking on the tender flesh and swirling his tongue. His fingers still play with me, delving inside and pleasuring me, but all I can focus on is his mouth on my leg.

He scrapes his fangs across my skin, and I gasp, pulse jumping and hips bucking. His lips twitch with a chuckle, and then there’s a sharp prick and a brief jolt of pain.

But it’s fleeting. Momentary. Because what follows that brief pain is immeasurable pleasure. It floods my veins, warming every inch of me—body and soul. With each pull of my blood into Peter’s mouth, I reach a new height. Every swallow sends another orgasm through me, wave after wave, until I can’t tell them apart. My hands caress my body while he drinks from me. His fingers playing between my legs while my own fingers tug at my nipples drives my pleasure higher.

He groans against my skin, and I yell, neck arching. I am soaring, and he’s right there beside me, making his pleasure known, holding nothing back.

This is what I’ve been missing. What I’ve been searching for. It’s incomparable. Unmatched. Nothing will ever come close to this.

His lips move from my leg, and his tongue swipes over where he bit me, sending another pulse of pleasure straight to my clit. I flutter my eyes open as Peter removes his fingers and lifts me onto his lap, positioning me right over his cock. He wraps me in his arms, holding me as tight as he can. I cling to his neck, his hand cradling the back of my head. My body is pliant and my heart is his. I’m spent and yet I crave more, crave the pain before the pleasure, the euphoric warmth that comes from him drinking my blood, the connection that comes only with his teeth buried in my skin.