Taken by a Vampire (Vampire Queen) - By Joey W. Hill Page 0,195

himself in eating her pussy, licking her clit, nipping at the labia, suckling her juices, plunging his tongue deep to swirl and taste and sample, while she writhed under his touch, bit down on the cries that kept building until she had to risk his displeasure to lower one of her arms and press her mouth against it. Instead, he pushed her arm back up, gagged her with his discarded T-shirt. He could have used the one she’d been wearing, but now she had the taste of him, his scent filling her nose. She bit down on it as he pushed her higher and higher, her legs now up on his bare shoulders, heels striking his back as she writhed. When he took one finger, lubricated from sliding into her wet folds, and slowly inserted it in her anus as he continued to tongue her cunt, pushing and withdrawing, she started screaming into the fabric.

He couldn’t speak in her mind, and his mouth was otherwise occupied, but she didn’t know if she could have waited for permission to come, regardless. The orgasm gushed from her, no time to beg or ask for anything.

When she was still shuddering from it, he braced himself over her body, keeping her ankles at his neck. He ripped open the jeans and slid into her to the root, her spasming tissues invaded by his engorged cock. He hadn’t been jesting—he was so thick and hard, and the orgasm had made her so tight, it was almost uncomfortable, but she reveled in it, still making small cries as his sweat-coated upper body slid along hers, an erotic sensation. Keeping her arms above her head, her mouth gagged by his shirt while he looked down at her with pure, feral possession in his eyes, had her body convulsing against him even more. She added to it, squeezing down, ankles locked over his shoulders.

I’m yours. But you’re mine, too. Whether or not Evan was awake to convey such a thought, she put all of it in her eyes, the strength of her body, and told him with all those things she wasn’t letting him go. That she’d defy even death to keep him, no matter how empty a promise that was.

It was easy to get pulled into the daily routine of the commune. There was the sense of being cut off from the world, of there being time for healing, for laughter, for quiet reflection. For creation, for whatever the mind and soul needed to explore. It made Farida Sanctuary one of the most remarkable places she’d ever been. There were short times she even forgot the scythe hanging over her own head, of Stephen lurking somewhere in her future. Perhaps he’d given up and would simply disappear. She was supposed to hope he was apprehended for the well-being of the Council, but Evan and Niall were teaching her how to have some of her own dreams. She knew they were futile, but it didn’t make them less of a stolen pleasure. In some ways, it made them even more bitterly sweet.

She helped in the kitchen, trading cooking skills with others. Working alongside the gardeners, she learned more of their craft, finding she had an intense interest in learning about plants, how they grew, how to tend them. Looking up throughout the day, she could always see a panorama of a harmonious community. Artists at work at various projects, children at play or being schooled in the pavilion. Sometimes it was their mothers being schooled, learning about the basics of home finances, or the more complicated world of legal proceedings, appropriate to their specific situations. Clay, paint, oils and chemicals mixed with the forest and lake smells, an unexpected complementary aroma that always pervaded the atmosphere.

Niall was far more than the rough and crude lad he claimed to be. He was an accomplished carpenter and handyman, a jack-of-all-trades, such that he was in demand for any type of repair or renovation put on the back burner until this visit. Yet despite his busy schedule, her Scot still found time to check on her throughout the daylight hours.

Near mealtimes he’d come through the kitchen to sample until he was chased off, though none interfered when what he came to sample was her. Pressing her up against a counter with unmistakable erotic intent, he’d steal a mind-numbing, knee-weakening kiss before he’d take off again, leaving her with a warming slap on the ass. He’d usually snatch a cookie or piece