swirled in my stomach threatening to overthrow my meal. Finding my voice, I said, “Kristos?”
“Yes?”
“I need to tell you something.” I stared down at my hands, wringing them with anxiety because I knew what came next and feared it. I suddenly lost faith in myself. What had I been thinking? Pretending I knew anything at all about sex was a special kind of lunacy. The lie felt wrong. I felt wrong. He deserved to know the truth and I wanted to stop making up a past that didn’t exist.
“I can see something is bothering you.” He took my hands in his secure grip and gave me a reassuring squeeze. “Try not to worry, I know what it’s like to be a new courtesan and I will be very gentle with you.”
“It’s not that,” I said. “Or, it’s not just that.”
“What is it then? Are you menstruating? We can work around that you know.”
I shook my head. “I’m a virgin.” Worrying my lip, I waited for his response.
He was silent for a moment, then, “Really?”
There was a delight I didn’t understand in his voice and I risked a look at his face. He was smiling and appeared to be very pleased.
He gave a little tug of my hands, trying to capture my attention.“What an unexpected surprise.”
My eyes downcast, I said, “I thought you would be mad.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because Madame Rouge made it sound like virgins were bad.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “For her, maybe, but not for me.” And then he was kissing me, hungrily claiming my lips, his hands massaging their way up my spine to the back of my neck. Deepening the kiss, he gripped the hem of my shirt and broke contact to lift it over my head. Tossing it aside, he bent down and kissed the top of each breast, tongue slipping under the fabric of my bra to tease my nipples. The sensation was so intense, I had to hold onto his shoulders to keep myself upright. A hunger I’d never fed, came alive and full of craving.
“It’s okay then?” I frowned, not trusting his quick acceptance.
“More than okay,” Kristos said. “Unless you want to stop?” He went still and looked at me.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t want to stop.”
“What do you want?” His gaze searched mine and I had that feeling again of being in a freefall.
“You,” I whispered utterly charmed by this debonair vampire and his easy way with my body that quickened me with desire. “I want you to be my first.”
“Good. I want to be your first too.” He unhooked my bra then and peeled it off me, smiling wolfishly as my breasts came into view. Hefting one globe in each hand, thumbs caressing the tips, he said, “I can hear your heart. It beats faster when I touch you.”
Caught up in the effect of his touch, I had no response other than a hitch in my breathing.
“Tell me, has any man made you feel this way?”
I shook my head.
“Just me?”
I nodded.
“Say the words, Myra.” He then tugged my hair until I lifted my chin up, exposing my throat which he covered with kisses.
“Just you,” I gasped.
At that, he leaned down to suck a nipple while continuing to play with the other, his tongue stroked me with a light, feathery touch. Then the pressure increased as he suckled the tip, which stiffened in response. When he flicked his tongue across my nipple, I moaned and arched my back, pushing my breasts into his face. The sensation in my breast bordered on pain without leaving pleasure. The feeling left me unsatisfied and wanting more.
He released me with a laugh. “And you think you don’t like whippings.”
Confused, I looked at him. “What?”
“That, my dear, was a thorough tongue lashing.” He moved to my other breast, taking the nipple and areola in his mouth with a hard suck. The bristles of his facial hair scraped my tender skin and his tongue showed me no mercy. As before, he stroked me until my nipple hardened into a nub and then he whipped his tongue across it, in hard, short strokes. My first whipping and it felt so
“Yes?”
“I need to tell you something.” I stared down at my hands, wringing them with anxiety because I knew what came next and feared it. I suddenly lost faith in myself. What had I been thinking? Pretending I knew anything at all about sex was a special kind of lunacy. The lie felt wrong. I felt wrong. He deserved to know the truth and I wanted to stop making up a past that didn’t exist.
“I can see something is bothering you.” He took my hands in his secure grip and gave me a reassuring squeeze. “Try not to worry, I know what it’s like to be a new courtesan and I will be very gentle with you.”
“It’s not that,” I said. “Or, it’s not just that.”
“What is it then? Are you menstruating? We can work around that you know.”
I shook my head. “I’m a virgin.” Worrying my lip, I waited for his response.
He was silent for a moment, then, “Really?”
There was a delight I didn’t understand in his voice and I risked a look at his face. He was smiling and appeared to be very pleased.
He gave a little tug of my hands, trying to capture my attention.“What an unexpected surprise.”
My eyes downcast, I said, “I thought you would be mad.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because Madame Rouge made it sound like virgins were bad.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “For her, maybe, but not for me.” And then he was kissing me, hungrily claiming my lips, his hands massaging their way up my spine to the back of my neck. Deepening the kiss, he gripped the hem of my shirt and broke contact to lift it over my head. Tossing it aside, he bent down and kissed the top of each breast, tongue slipping under the fabric of my bra to tease my nipples. The sensation was so intense, I had to hold onto his shoulders to keep myself upright. A hunger I’d never fed, came alive and full of craving.
“It’s okay then?” I frowned, not trusting his quick acceptance.
“More than okay,” Kristos said. “Unless you want to stop?” He went still and looked at me.
I shook my head. “No, I don’t want to stop.”
“What do you want?” His gaze searched mine and I had that feeling again of being in a freefall.
“You,” I whispered utterly charmed by this debonair vampire and his easy way with my body that quickened me with desire. “I want you to be my first.”
“Good. I want to be your first too.” He unhooked my bra then and peeled it off me, smiling wolfishly as my breasts came into view. Hefting one globe in each hand, thumbs caressing the tips, he said, “I can hear your heart. It beats faster when I touch you.”
Caught up in the effect of his touch, I had no response other than a hitch in my breathing.
“Tell me, has any man made you feel this way?”
I shook my head.
“Just me?”
I nodded.
“Say the words, Myra.” He then tugged my hair until I lifted my chin up, exposing my throat which he covered with kisses.
“Just you,” I gasped.
At that, he leaned down to suck a nipple while continuing to play with the other, his tongue stroked me with a light, feathery touch. Then the pressure increased as he suckled the tip, which stiffened in response. When he flicked his tongue across my nipple, I moaned and arched my back, pushing my breasts into his face. The sensation in my breast bordered on pain without leaving pleasure. The feeling left me unsatisfied and wanting more.
He released me with a laugh. “And you think you don’t like whippings.”
Confused, I looked at him. “What?”
“That, my dear, was a thorough tongue lashing.” He moved to my other breast, taking the nipple and areola in his mouth with a hard suck. The bristles of his facial hair scraped my tender skin and his tongue showed me no mercy. As before, he stroked me until my nipple hardened into a nub and then he whipped his tongue across it, in hard, short strokes. My first whipping and it felt so
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