Wicked Turning

He let his arm relax around her as his hips began to move in those lazy motions to milk all that there was of him into her waiting sex. She did not relent, however, and continued to grind those hips of hers, that satin skirt in flailing brushes against his thighs and those tight, hard nipples in a friction filled caress against the muscled expanse of his chest as she moaned harder and louder against his neck. He let it go on until her body slowed through pure will of the orgasm that left her shivering and whimpering into the skin of his neck and for all the pleasure that those sounds brought him, his clearing head set off warnings that she could kill him if it lasted much longer and so he spoke once more.

The deep, vibrating and echoing voice shattered her resolve and brought her fingernails to retreat from where she'd drawn blood on his back, the suckling grip of her mouth lessening as her body gave him what her stubborn mind would cease to release control. "Sleep..." He said, as he eased her off of his lap, her lids already growing heavy under the strain of the mental weights he'd attached to them. Her last sight was of the vampire zipping his jeans up and fetching his shirt with that slow, fluid grace that would only be found in a man that had eternity laying before him. "Tomorrow is a new night..."

[Author's Note]

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-The Crimson Scribes