Page 69 of Haunt the Mall

I pulled my dress over my head as I tumbled onto the bed. Victor yanked off his shirt and his vest in one hypnotizing movement. A demigod of sin stood before me. Then, he knelt, his pants splayed into an obscene ‘V’ low enough to free his dripping cock.

I could barely hear the squeak of the mattress over my own pounding heartbeat. I gripped the sheets in exhilaration.

This was it.

The moment the sexy predator closed in. His bare shoulders rippled with intent as he crawled across the bed. Dark eyes glimmered under the ragged swoop of his bangs and his small, silver cross swung like a pendulum counting down the seconds I had left. He was coming for me. He’d come inside of me, actually, and I needed it.

Oh, god, I needed it.

He smirked, then nipped my neck.

Shrieking, I curled my leg around his hip. “Why are you still wearing your pants?”

“I can’t wait another second. And I needed this,” he said, procuring a small square packet from his pocket.

“I’ll take care of it.” I tore open the condom, then rolled it onto him, giving him more time to kiss and play. “Okay,” I whispered when he was all set.

He glanced longingly at my breasts, then honed in on my face, his bangs curtaining off the rest of the world in a fringe of sweaty perfection. “Anything you want…or don’t want—”

“I want,” I said, cupping his face. “I want.”

We kissed, a pure, deep, soulful thing; then, he pushed into me.

I shuddered at the delicious pressure and curled my toes into his calf. For a few seconds, he used shallow thrusts and soft kisses to let my body stretch. But I was ready; I took him in. I palmed his shoulders and rocked my hips to urge him deeper.

He kissed me and stayed close, increasing his pace. Something about the friction of his pants and the slap of our skin sizzled my nerve endings. I’d already come once; I was still sensitive. He tensed and moaned against my neck. I edged my nails into his skin, claiming more of him. His bite. His blood. He kissed me hard and reached down to rub my clit. Face to face, and flesh to flesh, my fantasy bloomed into a glorious reality.

Victor and I, together.

I tightened around his shaft.

He slammed into me to the hilt and grunted. It was like our skins couldn’t contain ourselves. We had to burst, our very essence pouring into the other. We held on tight through our shuddering orgasms.

A few seconds later, the intense pleasure evened out to a dull, triumphant roar.

This was richer than any simple sin. It was carnal decadence. Intimate bliss.

I brushed his sweaty bangs back and cupped that sharp jaw of his. He melted into my touch. My sweet Spider-Man.

We kissed. It was soft, unlike his dick. His happy little slow-blink might as well have branded my soul.

I’d pictured us having sex plenty of times, but as our noses brushed, I realized with an aching tenderness that what I’d really wanted, and what I’d gotten, was to make love with him.

31

What Lies Beneath

Victor laid on his back beside me, absently stroking my arm. Between heavy blinks, his dark eyes were unfocused and dreamy.

I hooked my heel around his calf and sighed. Did normal people feel warm and fuzzy after a good fuck? Or was this love stuff seeping in again?

“You kept your socks on,” he murmured with wonder, fingering the edges of my thigh-highs as if to check they were real.

I grinned. “Yeah. You didn’t notice?”

He furrowed his brow. “There are so many parts…”

I snorted a laugh. How much did we miss when blood rushed from the brain?