A Kiss of Blood (Vamp City #2)(60)

As she watched now, a female with white-centered eyes and elongated fangs rode one male while a second took her from behind. A third grabbed her face and shoved his c**k down her throat as she grabbed his hips and pulled him closer.

A few weeks ago, such a tableau would have shocked Quinn. Now, she found the sight almost heartwarming. The only cries were of pleasure, even from the Slavas, though she wondered if any were actually here of their own free will. Without a doubt, all were under the thrall of Fabian’s elixir.

In her current impassioned state, she found the sight of the foursome incredibly hot. She was so aroused, her own body so desperately in need of attention, that watching the others was almost more than she could bear. Especially with Arturo’s flesh beneath her hands, his scent filling her lungs, his taste like the finest wine as she ran her tongue along the curve of his ear.

Her breath was completely ragged, her equilibrium destroyed. And hers wasn’t the only one.

Without warning, Arturo pulled her onto his lap and began to kiss her as if he were drowning and she was the only one who could save him. His hands burrowed into her hair, his breath as rough as her own. He’d held on to control as long as he could, despite the smell of sex all around them, the sound of slapping flesh and passion underscored by the pounding, pulsing music. And the elixir flowing hot through their veins.

“Fuck her, Mazza,” Fabian called. “Strip her down and f**k her.”

Quinn tensed.

“Easy, cara,” Arturo whispered against her ear. Then he dipped his head to her neck and bit her.

She screamed with pleasure as the first pull of blood shot her straight to orgasm. Her overheated body shattered, pulsing, the pleasure exquisite as he pulled on her neck again and again.

When he lifted his head, his eyes were white-centered and white-hot, his fangs long and streaked with blood. “Mio dio.”

“Mazza,” Fabian growled over the swelling music. “You’ve taken me to the edge and left me there. Fuck her! Now.”

Arturo cupped her jaw, the heat in his eyes part real, part the product of the drug. But the concern and tenderness were completely genuine. “Not in front of the others. She’ll not be able to tolerate it. Find us a screen for privacy.”

We cannot avoid this, cara mia.

“I know.” Heaven help her, she didn’t care where they did it as long as he filled her and ended this pulsing, aching torture.

Minutes later, slaves erected dressing-room screens all around them, though why they had such a thing in a place like this, she couldn’t imagine.

“Fuck her, Mazza,” Fabian called. “Or I’ll do it myself, vomit and all.”

Hidden at last, Arturo turned to her, his hands on her face, meeting her gaze. “I need you.”

“Yes.” But when she reached for her shirt, he grabbed her wrists, stilling them.

“I would have us not undress any more than we have to,” he said against her cheek. “I don’t trust him. Unfasten your jeans and get on your hands and knees.”

With shaking fingers, she did as he asked, and, a moment later, he was pulling her jeans and panties down to her thighs, exposing her ass to the heated air. At once, she felt his hand on her, between her legs, his finger sliding deep inside of her.

She cried out from the pleasure.

“You are so wet, cara, so ready for this. For me.”

She heard the zip of his pants, the quick rustle, then felt his hands grip her hips and his thick erection plunge deep inside of her.

She screamed, arching, pushing back to shove him deeper. “Harder, Vampire. Faster!” she urged, then gasped as his pounding took on a superhuman speed. She came again and again and again. Each time she shattered, she felt him with her in a way that wasn’t quite physical, as if he embraced her, holding her as she came apart.

“Cara,” he gasped, and she knew he was close. She rose again, and this time he joined her, slowing, jerking her hips tight against his as he roared, as the pleasure exploded. She felt his spirit wrap around hers, felt the sun on them both. In her mind’s eye, she watched him tip his face up, smiling. The sun’s warmth flowed down inside her, down into the deep, cold crevices of her being, of her heart. Their cries echoed around the room.

It was moments before she came back to herself, collapsing onto the chaise as Arturo pulled out of her and released her hips. She felt him stretch out beside her, and turned her to face him. For long moments they stared at one another, his fingers stroking her cheek.

“What you do to me,” he breathed.

“That was . . . unbelievable.”

He smiled, stealing what little breath she’d managed to reclaim.

“I saw the sun. I felt it on my face. And it didn’t burn.”

“I know.” Which made absolutely no sense. “Was it real, or just the drug?”

He looked deep into her eyes, stroking her face. “It was you, amore mio. You give me the sun.”

For long moments, they stared at one another, then Arturo blinked and began to frown.

“It is too quiet.”

In a heartbeat, a human heartbeat, he was up, helping her to her feet and pulling her jeans up, helping her adjust her clothes, then quickly adjusting his own.

Arturo set aside the screen and, just like a bad dream, Quinn saw that all eyes were on them, most mouths hanging open. With a silent groan, she hazarded a glance at Fabian. He was watching them with a look of rapture, his eyelids heavy, his mouth open and panting.