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She registered the rustling of the bedsheets. How he played with her nipples between his thumbs and indexes explained her growing awareness of her core. His warm breath blew at the curve of her neck, stirring goosebumps. Teeth nibbling at her ear, filling it with a groan. His furred chest against her back, his erection pressing against her buttocks.
Agatha swallowed. She recognized the temptation to spread her legs and guide him inside her.
“No ‘good morning’?” he prompted, tracing her ear with his tongue.
“You didn’t mind skipping the formalities,” she observed.
The count smiled at her neck. He released her breast, snaked his hand down her form. Cupped her, pulled her tighter against his body. Two digits slipping between her folds, brushing her clitoris. “Table manners aren’t my forte ,” he replied.
“Isn’t that an understatement?” she snickered.
Dracula nipped at her throat. “I’m tempted to put this smart mouth to good use,” he said. “I want to see these pretty little lips wrapped around my cock,” his fingers moved into a shallow thrust. “Later.”
“Good,” she declared, rubbed her behind against his prick. “I used to compare your attention span to a goldfish, I’ve since then learned you’re much, much worse.” She covered his hand with hers, pulled it away. “It means I can shift your focus,” she caught hold of his penis, brushed the head against her entrance. A sigh escaped her. “To what I prefer.” She grabbed his ass, nails digging in his flesh. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, Count…”
A long groan as he complied, sliding into her heat with a stretched-out movement. “This easy?” he questioned, biting her ear. “Has marriage made you soft, Agatha?”
She glanced over her shoulder to him, lips touching his. “Can’t accept that I might be interested in sex?”
“You usually take convincing,” he said, pinched her nipple. “A little persuasion.”
“I do nothing I don’t want to, Count,” she said. “And what I want now is for you to finish what you have started.”
The ancient vampire took her mouth, a thirsting man in the desert, her mouth the water he had been craving. His hips hitting her with random strokes.
The Dracula Countess drew his hand to her navel, touched his digits to her clit. Further at the tips, where he moved in and out of her.
Agatha escaped his hold, turned on their bed, and had him lay on his back. She grinned as she straddled him, enveloped his cock into her heat.
Dracula watched her features.
Her hips undulated against his, she bit her bottom lip. With her palms on his chest, Van Helsing rode him. Bouncing on his lap, breasts a tantalizing sight that made him wet his mouth. His pupils widened, he gripped her side tight.
Her balance faltered when he sat, grabbing her wrists and holding them against his chest. The Count tipped his head, brushed their mouths. “You’re making me think I should have married you sooner, Agatha. I’d dare to say at the Demeter would have been a good opportunity.”
She met his eyes. “Perhaps if you were willing to cooperate,” she said.
He scoffed, leaned in, and gulped a breath at her neck, licked the area. “I couldn’t hurry a vintage.” He faced her. “Would you have said ‘yes’ to me? If I promised not to harm another? Would you have walked into marriage with me? Given me,” he swallowed, gaze devouring her, “ everything ?”
“What’s the point of wondering?” she questioned.
Dracula halted her strokes. “Answer me.”
Her clear orbs lingered on his dark ones. “You know the lengths I’d go to save someone.”
“You gave me your life, what about your body? Your death? Your immortal soul?” His hand ran against her breastbone. “Would you, Agatha Van Helsing, Countess Dracula, have become my perfect bride?”
“Not your bride,” she declared. “Your only wife. No more brides, no hurt children, no victims. Only willing and selected participants.”
He grinned, kissed her hard before sinking his fangs into her throat.
Agatha’s vision blurred. She blinked, found herself in the room they had played chess in. She sat at the table, the Count stood between her thighs. The back of his fingers caressed the inside of her leg, hiking up the blue skirt of her dress.
Another blink. She laid on an old bed, at the Dracula Castle. Her husband bare as when he was born, stretching her open. Kissed her, suckled on her bottom lip.
A second kiss and she was brought back to their place in England. He guided her hips into sensual motions.
Dracula growled, nibbled at her mouth.
Agatha fought his hold, thrust harder, faster. “Enough games,” she said, pushed her hand on his chest, had him lay back.
He grinned. “Whatever the Queen of Vampires desires.”
She rode him, hard. Threw her head back when she came the first time that night. Met his eyes with voracious ones, allowed the game to restart.