Essence (Nectar 3)

Maybe if he fed right now he’d get insight into why this was happening.

He lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist and then his fangs pierced the skin. He watched her face as her blood trickled into his mouth, down his throat, and straight into his soul.

Her eyes opened and were on him, out of focus, but she’d stopped trembling.

Desperation was coming from her; absolute anguish came off in waves. More pain and anguish than even last time.

He kept drinking, feeling her blood nourish him, watching goosebumps rise on her arms. Her body went lax and her eyes rolled back and then her emotions shifted to desire and her other hand reached up and grabbed his hair with strength.

He smelled arousal coming from her. Her nipples were erect, poking through her t-shirt. His thumb grazed over one and she moaned and arched into his hand. He flipped her to her back, mouth still connected to her right wrist. He roughly pulled her tighter to him and ground his cock against her pelvis. Her legs opened and wrapped around him. His fingers found their way to her fly and he snapped her jeans button open.

He was overcome with the need to have her and she was all over him. Her back arched so that her pelvis was grinding into him, her hand was still tangled in his hair. She yanked his hair hard, making his neck arch back. He looked at her face. Her eyes were closed but her mouth was open, ecstasy written all over her face.

He let her wrist go with a kiss and whipped her bottoms down her thighs, “Kick them off, princess,” he whispered against her mouth and she got one leg out and then both of her hands were in his pants and she was pulling his dick out,

“Baby,” she moaned and licked his lower lip.

He grabbed her panties with both hands and ripped them in half and then tossed the torn fabric aside and got the tip of his dick against her entrance and her body was so wet and hot and ready that it was as if her pussy sucked the tip of him in. He followed. He thrust his hips forward and slammed as deep as he could go, getting goosebumps at the moan she let out in response.

There was no way that this was wrong.

She wanted this.

He needed this.

And right now she had some renewed energy of some sort. She wasn’t lucid, she was drunk with desire, though, and she was all over him.

“You feel so fucking good,” he told her.

She moaned and pulled his head toward her mouth, nibbling on his earlobe and then nibbling on his chin. He kissed her with all the passion he felt for her, devouring her. Her tongue tangoed with his and although he couldn’t feel her emotions, he could feel her hunger by her actions. She needed this. Completely, absolutely needed this.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

“Come with me, baby,” he flipped her, lifted her by the hips, continuing to plunge into her while he worked her clit with his fingers and she reared back into him, throwing her hair back. He gathered it over one shoulder as his teeth found her other shoulder and when he bit in, she started to come; he felt her pussy clench around him and her emotions rushed forward into him. More desperation and agony.

“Kyla, baby?”

He felt so fucking sour, regretting she’d been on her knees because he never got to see her eyes, see if she was lucid while she came like last time. He’d released her shoulder and flipped her but it was too late. She’d already deflated.

She immediately started to convulse again. Her body was jerking like she was having an epileptic seizure. He jumped up, yanked his pants up while flipping her over to her side. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she started to bleed from her bottom lip, just a little; her teeth were dug in there.

Her eyes rolled back and all he could see were the whites of them. He hollered her name. But she just kept trembling, back arched, face contorted with agony.

There was a loud knock on the door.

She went lax but was breathing shallowly. The jerking had stopped. He kissed her, tasting blood on her lip, holding her face and looking deep, “Rest, princess.”

She shuddered a few times and then settled.

The banging on the door resumed.

“Hang on!” he shouted, agitated.

He covered her nakedness with the patchwork quilt on the end of the bed, zipped up his jeans, and then stared at the door and it swung open.

Sasha stood there, chewing her bottom lip, “Everything okay?”

“Do you have something you can sedate her with? She’s had some sort of seizure.”

“Have you just fed?” she asked, glancing over his shoulder. She looked disapproving and he could feel it coming off her.