He dug his claws into the demon’s broad shoulders. Though Mirceo was a formidable Dacian, he felt like ivy clinging to an oak.
Just when he surrendered completely, the demon broke away. “Got me all twisted!” Caspion reached down to untie his pants. “I know better than to want you.” He shoved the leather down his thighs.
Mirceo had to clear his throat to speak. “But I was born for . . .” He trailed off, scenting a new source of blood.
Caspion pinched his chin, forcing him to look down. From a patch of silky blond curls, the demon’s thick rod strained toward Mirceo, as if offering itself up for a bite.
A narrow slice graced the length. Gods almighty! Would Caspion make him drink from his shaft?
Make me, Mirceo inwardly begged. Ah, for the love of gods, make me. He stared at his mate’s member, rapt, as blood pulsed along prominent veins and beaded atop that cut. The broad head was rose red, engorged with ever more blood.
I’ve never beheld anything so perfect. To feed from that font . . . ? Mirceo’s fangs throbbed.
Increasing the pressure on Mirceo’s head, Caspion said, “To your knees, princeling.”
_______
Lust seething in his gray eyes, Mirceo dropped down. Cas had expected he’d go straightaway for the blood, but the vampire took his time.
Though Cas was in control, Mirceo wasn’t cowed. Smirking up at him, the prince rubbed his chiseled face against the other side of Cas’s shaft.
Gone dizzy with bliss, Cas choked out words: “Have you . . . ever sucked a cock before?”
Mirceo shook his head. “But fear not; I excel at my every endeavor.”
Cas thumped the arrogant vampire’s ear.
Laughing, Mirceo dipped to nurse on Cas’s balls.
“Fuck!” He bucked his hips for more.
With a grin, Mirceo tugged Cas’s length down to lick pre-cum from the tip. But then the joke was on Mirceo, because the taste obviously slayed the prince. When Mirceo’s eyes rolled back in his head, Cas thought he’d come spontaneously— Groaning, the vampire engulfed Cas’s shaft into the wet heat of his mouth. He clawed Cas’s bare ass to drag him closer, flicking his clever tongue as he sucked.
Gripping Mirceo’s head, Cas forced his cock even deeper, but the vampire kept moaning for more. No one had ever swallowed so much of him! “Uhn! Take all of me.” Unable to stop himself, he thrust between Mirceo’s lips, fucking the prince’s mouth. Before Cas was ready, his balls drew up. Tremors climbed his spine, his toes curling.
Pulling back, Mirceo rasped, “Ah-ah. Not yet, lover.” He ripped open his own pants as he dipped the tip of his tongue into the slit.
Cas could only stare in disbelief. “You’re hungry for more?”
All blazing arrogance, Mirceo said, “Always. I am a spoiled prince.” He sank his fangs into Cas’s rigid flesh.
And the world spun.
EIGHTEEN
The demon’s wine bathed his tongue. Struggling not to come from the sultry taste, Mirceo began to suck.
“Gods almighty!” Caspion groaned with pleasure. “Drink me. Drink me down.”
As Mirceo fed, he gazed up at this god of a male. Caspion was such a fierce warrior, an alpha to the core—but vulnerable. Despite kneeling at his feet, Mirceo still possessed power.
I’ll have all of you. One day. . . .
For now, he lost himself in Caspion’s lifeblood, his helpless reactions, his frenzied need. As the demon’s rod throbbed around his fangs, Mirceo dared not touch his own member, lest he spill at once.
The demon cast him a brows-drawn, lost look. “I’m going to come right on your tongue, vampire.”
Mirceo grasped Caspion’s heavy balls, tugging on them, drawing a yell from the demon. More pre-cum arose to mix with the blood.
Delectable . . . Mirceo was finished. He couldn’t withstand the pressure of his own seed ascending his shaft. He lowered a shaking hand, grasping himself.
A single jerk of his fist.
To the music of Caspion’s moans, he began to spend between the demon’s boots. As semen spurted across the sand, he snarled around Caspion’s cock, planting his fangs even deeper.
The demon growled, “The scent of your cum maddens me!” He started to culminate, his shaft pulsating in Mirceo’s hungry mouth. “You’ve ended me . . . ENDED ME!” He threw back his head and roared till the cave quaked around them.
_______
With a loving lick, the vampire released his bite.
So much better than fantasy. Legs gone boneless, Cas stumbled back to his bed, sprawling on the furs. He grasped for his anger, wanting to stoke it, but all he felt was . . . peace. His body floated, euphoria drugging him.
Mirceo traced to lie beside him, resting his head on Cas’s chest, his long black hair fanning out. Warm puffs of his breath breezed over Cas’s dampened skin.
What if the prince is mine?
“Listen to that mighty heart beating,” Mirceo murmured. “You can deny you love this all you want to, but your body tells a different story.”
The vampire’s intoxicating scent—sandalwood and a touch of blood—lit up Cas’s mind. He shallowed his own breaths, just to take in more of that scent.
It was a tantalizing tease, with an undercurrent of fire—like Mirceo as a person.
Cas stared down at that long black hair. He’d gripped it before, but hadn’t registered the feel of it. Could it be as soft as it looked? His fingers decided to find out, threading themselves through Mirceo’s hair.
Soft like silk. Cas grew heavy-lidded with satisfaction. He gazed up at the nuances of the cave ceiling not with resignation and misery, but with a fragile hope kindling inside his chest.
He allowed himself a few moments to explore this afterplay. He’d always vaulted out of a partner’s bed as soon as he’d come. Restless Mirceo had as well. Yet now the two of them lazed together.
Outside the winds howled. Inside the fire crackled. I could lie like this forever.
Reading his mind, Mirceo said, “This is almost as good as the release that got us here. Who knew?”
Who indeed? It was too good. “You always split well before the morning after.”
“Depends on how drunk I got the night before. But to your point, I wasn’t much of an afterglow kind of male. I always felt panic after sex. I don’t know why.”
Cas did. Because Mirceo was terrified of commitment. Fear doused Cas’s hope, his instinct for self-preservation rising. This situation boiled down to a simple equation: If I claim him as my own and he rejects me, then I’ll be destroyed.
More simply: Mirceo equals doom.
Cas shook his head hard. All of this agonizing would be moot if they didn’t survive the next few hours. He needed to focus on their hunt, or he’d get them killed. “Up with you. We should talk some logistics.”
Mirceo sighed. “Very well.” He rose and adjusted his clothing. Tracing to sit on one of the trunks across from the bed, he secured his hair back with a leather tie.