Bloodsong by Eden Bradley Read Free Book Online Page B

spoken again about Emeline. Meeraj seemed to feel that in revealing Emeline to her, he had said enough. And even in the little he’d said to her that first day, it was enough. He would never forget Emeline, but he felt as though his grief over her had loosened, that he was finally beginning to be able to separate himself from its constant and tenacious grasp.
    He loved watching everything Meeraj did. He loved to see her eat—the food disappearing between her lush lips was a sensual experience in itself. He loved to watch her as she was now, lounging in the bath, her heavy, dark hair piled on top of her head in a lovely, silken tumble. He sat quietly on a stool as she ran the sponge over her golden skin, the metallic gleam of her eyes peeking from beneath her half closed lids. His cock was hardening already. But he needed to let the woman bathe, to have a few moments’ rest.
    “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he told her, not for the first time, and she smiled at him, as lazily as a cat.
    There was a feline grace about her. In the movement of her hands, the way she stretched in bed in the mornings when she woke. She didn’t seem to mind that he watched her almost constantly, that he couldn’t take his eyes from her.
    They hadn’t returned to the Midnight Playground. Tonight he planned to take her there.
    “Are you looking forward to playing at the club tonight?” he asked her.
    “Yes, very much.”
    “Something in me craves that small thrill of performing in front of an audience. I believe you have the same need.”
    She opened her eyes. They were glittering with excitement. “You know me already, Aleron, You know I love it, all of it. I’m ready for anything you ask of me. I want it.”
    He stood, taking in the sight of her hardening nipples visible beneath the layer of foamy white suds. “Are you ready right now, Meeraj?” he asked quietly.
    She smiled, lowered her lashes. He loved that she went so easily into subspace, so naturally.
    He knelt on the floor beside the tub and rolled up the sleeves of his white silk shirt. “Open for me,” he commanded.
    She leaned back, pulling her knees up and spreading her thighs.
    He reached down into the warm water, slipped his fingers into her slit and with his thumb he found the hard nub of her clit, already swollen.
    “Ah, you are ready for me.”
    She sighed softly. “Yes. Always.”
    He pushed two fingers into her pussy, found the walls slick and tight. He pressed onto her clitoris, began to make hard circles. Her hips arched into his hand, and she was moaning, panting instantly. When he pinched her nipple, her hips rose, and she cried out.
    “Settle, Meeraj.”
    She took a long breath and stilled herself. He pinched again. This time she only gasped, not moving, her nipple rock-hard between his fingers, her clitoris nearly as hard.
    “Are you ready to come, my beauty?”
    “Yes…please…”
    He let her nipple go, lifted her wrist to his lips, kissed the tender skin there. “Come then, into my hand.”
    He pumped into her, his fingers driving deep, and pressed roughly onto her clit. And as he sensed her climax approaching, he bit into her wrist, just a small Kiss, drawing a few drops of her blood into his mouth.
    He loved that small shock of utter sweetness that was her blood on his tongue. Loved the jolt of pleasure that was her climax, her pussy clenching around his fingers.
    He loved everything about her.
    No!
    He forced himself to hang on to her until her climax was over, then withdrew as gently as he could, leaving her languid and spent in the tub.
    What was he thinking with this woman?
    He ran a hand through his hair, realized it was still wet from the fragrant bath water, grabbed a thick, white towel and wiped his hands dry.
    He did not love her. Impossible. He no longer knew how to love. He hadn’t for a hundred years.
    Then why did his chest ache every bit as much as his cock when he looked at her?
    Some odd sort of infatuation.