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To finish the story…
Unlock PremiumThe moon hung low and blood-red over the ancient spires of Castle Vespera, casting the great hall in shades of crimson and shadow. I had come as a guest to the Masquerade of Eternal Night—curious, foolish, drawn by whispers of forbidden pleasures that no mortal woman could resist. My gown was black silk and lace, clinging to every curve, the neckline plunging low enough to bare the frantic pulse at my throat. A silver mask hid my eyes, but nothing could hide the heat already pooling between my thighs.
I stood by a tall window, wine glass in hand, when I felt him. The air grew colder, thicker, charged with something ancient and hungry. He moved through the crowd like smoke—tall, broad-shouldered, his black velvet coat embroidered with silver thread that caught the candlelight like fangs. No mask for him. His face was carved perfection: sharp jaw, midnight eyes, and a single scar slicing through one dark brow. Lord Alexander Voss. The vampire who had ruled these lands for three centuries. The one they said could make a woman beg with nothing but a look.
His gaze locked on mine across the room. Slow. Possessive. He crossed to me in three unhurried strides, the scent of him—sandalwood, old blood, and raw power—wrapping around me like chains.
“Little mortal,” he murmured, voice low and velvet-rough, the kind that slid straight into my core. “You smell… delicious. Like fear and desire braided together.”
My breath caught. “And if I’m not afraid?”
His lips curved, revealing the faintest glint of fangs. “Then you’re already mine.”
We danced once—his hand burning at the small of my back, body pressed close enough that I felt the hard, unmistakable ridge of his cock against my hip through his trousers. Every turn, every brush of his fingers, sent sparks racing over my skin. He leaned down, lips grazing my ear. “I can hear your heart racing. I can smell how wet you are already. Tell me, Elena… how long have you ached for a monster to ruin you?”
By the time the music faded, I was trembling. He didn’t ask. He simply took my hand and led me from the hall, up a spiral staircase lit only by flickering torches. The heavy door to his private tower chamber shut behind us with a final, echoing click.
Moonlight poured through arched windows, painting the massive four-poster bed in silver. He spun me, pressing my back to the cold stone wall, and tore the mask from my face. His mouth crashed down on mine—fierce, claiming, tongue sweeping in like he already owned every inch of me. I moaned into the kiss as his fangs nicked my lower lip, drawing a single drop of blood. He groaned, deep and primal, sucking it from my tongue like the rarest wine.
“Fuck, your taste,” he growled against my mouth. “I’ve waited lifetimes for this.”
He yanked my gown down in one brutal tug. The silk ripped, baring my breasts to the cool air. My nipples tightened instantly. His large hands cupped them, thumbs circling the peaks before he bent and sucked one into his mouth—hard—fangs scraping the sensitive flesh. I cried out, arching, fingers fisting in his thick black hair.
He dropped to his knees, shoving my skirts up around my waist. No panties underneath; I’d come dressed for sin. Cool air kissed my soaked pussy a heartbeat before his mouth did. His tongue—long, inhumanly skilled—parted my slick folds in one slow, devastating lick from entrance to clit. Then he devoured me. Sucking my swollen clit between his lips, flicking it mercilessly while two thick fingers plunged inside me, curling hard against that perfect spot. The wet, obscene sounds of him feasting filled the chamber. I rode his face shamelessly, hips jerking, thighs shaking.
“Come for me, little prey,” he commanded, voice vibrating against my core. “Let me taste your pleasure before I take your blood.”
The orgasm slammed into me like lightning. I screamed his name, pussy clenching around his fingers, flooding his tongue with my release. He drank every drop, groaning like it was ambrosia, fangs grazing my inner thigh just enough to sting.
He rose, shedding his coat and shirt in seconds. Moonlight carved his body—broad chest, ridged abs, the dark trail of hair leading down to the massive cock that sprang free. Thick, veined, the head already glistening with pre-cum. Nine inches of ruthless perfection, and at the base, two small ridges that promised to ruin me.
“On the bed,” he ordered, voice dark with centuries of hunger. “Legs spread wide. Show me what’s mine.”
I obeyed, trembling. He crawled over me, caging me with those powerful arms, and notched the fat head of his cock against my dripping entrance. One slow, relentless push and he sank in—stretching me open, inch by burning inch—until his heavy balls rested against my ass. We both groaned. He was so deep I felt him in my throat.
“Gods, you’re tight,” he rasped, eyes black with lust. “Gripping me like a virgin sacrifice. Made for a vampire’s cock.”
Then he fucked me.
No mercy. Hard, punishing strokes that slammed the heavy bedframe against the stone wall. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed, filthy and perfect. Every thrust dragged those ridges over my G-spot, sending white-hot pleasure exploding through me. I clawed his back, heels digging into his ass, begging.
He flipped me onto my stomach, yanked my hips up, and drove back in from behind—deeper, rougher. One hand fisted my hair, pulling my head back so his mouth could scrape along my throat. “Feel that?” he growled, biting down just enough for the sting. “That’s me owning you.”
I came again, screaming, pussy pulsing around his thick shaft like it was trying to pull him deeper. He didn’t slow. He fucked me through it, then pulled out, flipped me onto my back, and shoved my knees to my chest, folding me in half.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
I did. His eyes burned crimson now, fangs fully extended. He slammed back inside, the new angle hitting everything at once. My clit ground against his pelvis with every brutal thrust. I was sobbing with pleasure, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.
He leaned down, fangs grazing the frantic pulse in my neck. “Now,” he snarled. “Come on my cock while I drink from you.”
His fangs sank in—sharp, perfect pain that bloomed into blinding ecstasy. White-hot pleasure flooded my veins as he drank, hips never stopping their relentless rhythm. The orgasm tore through me so violently my vision whited out. My pussy clamped down on him in rhythmic, milking spasms, soaking his cock, dripping down my ass and his balls.
He roared against my throat, hips stuttering. I felt the hot, endless jets of his release—thick ropes flooding deep inside me, spilling out around his pulsing cock as he kept thrusting through his climax, marking me from the inside while his venom burned sweet fire through my blood.
We stayed locked together, panting, his mouth still sealed to my neck, tongue lazily licking the puncture wounds closed. His cock twitched inside me, half-hard and still leaking.
He finally lifted his head, crimson eyes soft now, almost tender. Blood—my blood—glistened on his lips. He kissed me slow and deep, letting me taste myself on his tongue.
“Stay, little mortal,” he murmured, still buried to the hilt, fingers tracing lazy circles over my oversensitive clit. “The night is young… and I’m nowhere near done ruining you for any other man.”
As another wave of pleasure began to build under his touch, I knew I never wanted him to stop.
