Essence (Nectar 3)

On that thought, she decided she couldn’t think about it right now. Right now she really needed coffee. And she was about to have some seriously good coffee because they were home and she knew that Tristan had stocked her favourite coffee back at his condo.~~~They took a taxi back to the condo and Tristan immediately called a locksmith while Kyla set up the coffee maker. He explained that Sam had had some guys bust in to get some of their things and since changed the locks. Tristan was having them changed again. Immediately.

Knowing others had been in his place didn’t sit well; he’d told her the condo was his oasis, his completely private space, so he spent a lot of time looking over everything. He had Kyla wait upstairs while the locksmith was there. And then he’d passed Kyla a pen and pad of paper and asked her to make a shopping list for the concierge to have groceries delivered for the upcoming week. This task kept her busy while Tristan prowled around checking everything out.

It was sort of eerie being back there with the huge amount of emotion she’d felt last time she was in the space. The apartment was clean, sterile, cold. It didn’t feel like home. The feeling of airiness she’d felt the night they arrived here from the villa, after the fire, wasn’t what she felt now. She suspected it was because she’d last been here when she left him.

But it was home for now. Essentially, it was going to be a prison, though, she suspected, because Tristan had stuff to figure out and he was going to be crazy protective. He’d barely let her out of arm’s reach other than to go to the bathroom, since waking her back up from that state of mesmerization. She was dreading the idea of being cooped up.

He ended a phone call and she approached and took his hand and walked him to the sofa. He sat and she climbed onto his lap and curled up, head on his chest, straddling him, her knees by his hips. His arms went around her and she inhaled him deeply.

“Things gonna be okay?” she asked.

“Absolutely. Nothing is gonna hurt you again. Ever.”

“Nothing will hurt you?”

“Nope.”

“Better not,” she said, “I couldn’t bear it.”

“You won’t have to.”

He bit into his hand and presented it to her. She took his palm gently into both hands and flipped her hair over to one shoulder to present her throat to him and laid her head on his shoulder. They both went for what they needed, holding each other close, listening to the other’s heart beat in perfect time with their own, and then Kyla shifted to grind her crotch into his as she started to undo his shirt gently. Gentle didn’t last. He reached over and shredded her t-shirt and threw it aside.

She smiled and then grabbed his shirt and pulled as hard as she could and shredded it, too.

His eyes sparkled with surprise and amusement.

Drinking his blood while fucking was starting to feel as natural to her as his drinking her blood while fucking now did. What a switch from the start when she thought he was gorgeous and great in bed but was all, “Fangs? Not so much…”His blood was sweet, the connection was deepened during the act, like they were braided together as one. She adored this feeling of oneness.

She released his hand and started to shimmy out of her pants and panties but he couldn’t wait. He pulled her back to him by her hips so that their groins were together and ripped the crotch out instead and then she rode him, giving him a shake of her head in exasperation at yet more of her clothing being destroyed.

His eyes flickered with amusement, his hands were on her hips and then his eyes went dark with carnal intensity. She rocked, gasped, and raked her fingers through his hair as she planted kisses on his mouth and then nipped his lower lip, hard, drawing blood, making his eyes go wide with surprise.

Then she sucked on his lower lip, moaning. He flipped her onto her back and started powering so hard and so deep that she felt like she was being drilled into the ground. She tried to flip to get back on top but he fought it and so it turned to wrestling. Kyla put all her strength into it and this meant that the sofa they were on flipped onto its back and they rolled onto the floor. Tristan groaned and rolled them again and then he was pinning her, feasting on her throat, while her heels dug into his lower back and she grounded against him.

“How the fuck did fucking you get better when it couldn’t get any better?”

“Mm, I was gonna ask you the same thing,” she moaned, grabbing his hair with both hands and dragging his mouth to hers.