Thrall of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 4) by Bella Klaus (namjoon book recommendations txt) 📗

I clenched my teeth. “Take me somewhere private, and I’ll do anything you want.”

His deep chuckle made my nerve endings sing. “By the time I count to five, you’ll be riding me to the sunset and damning the consequences.”

My eyes narrowed. “You were listening to my conversation with Beatrice in the jacuzzi?”

“One.” His thumb glided down my slit and settled over my opening.

I sniffed, acting like preternatural vampire kings brought me to climax in public every day. “You may as well finish.”

“Two.” His grin broadened. “Get on top of my cock.”

Why was he being so annoying? Kresnik was long gone, probably deep in conversation with some demon or another with Martika perched on his lap. There was absolutely no reason to stick around when we could leave this place at any time.

I gave him a hard shove in the chest, which did absolutely nothing to ruffle his composure. “What is wrong with you, Valentine Sargon?”

“Three.” He leaned back, his eyes lingering on the cups of my bodice. At that moment, I swore I could see the man calculating how he would pull down my spaghetti straps and expose my breasts. He ran his tongue down the length of his fang.

“Valentine?” My voice shook.

“Four. Change of plan. I will lay you flat on the table—”

“Fine.” Curling my fingers into his lapels, I raised myself off his lap and positioned myself over his crotch.

Valentine sat back in his armchair like a sultan and spread his arms wide in a help-yourself gesture. I rolled my eyes. Great Britain was on the brink of a supernatural war, a Light Lord was trawling around the room for bloodthirsty allies, and young people were getting their magic stolen and being turned into preternatural vampires.

The Supernatural World was going to shit, yet all Valentine could think about was drinking my blood while I rode him like a cowgirl.

I reached down, letting the heat of his arousal guide my hand, and wrapped my fingers around his erection. It pulsed as though welcoming my touch.

Before I could wonder how a man with no heart could circulate blood, he shifted his hips, brushing his thick, hot tip over my folds. My eyes fluttered shut, and the band’s jazzy number drifted into the ether.

Valentine held my hips steady as I slid down his length, taking him inch by delicious inch. At this angle, the stretch was incredible. Pleasure swept through my insides like a firestorm, making me clench hard around his girth.

I panted like I’d just completed a strenuous tap-dance, clutching at his broad shoulders for balance. Only his tip had breached my opening, and it was already setting off a chain of reactions that would end in a climax.

“Take it easy,” he murmured into my ear.

“Right.” I bit down on my lip, waiting for my core muscles to stop quivering. Heartbeats later, I slid down a few more inches. On the way down, I moulded myself around his every vein and ridge, feeling him expanding within my grip.

A moan slipped from my lips. We had never had sex at this angle, and it was proving to be my favorite.

After what felt like several minutes, I’d completely engulfed that enormous length and sat flush on Valentine’s pelvis, with my arms around his neck. Panting breaths heaved in and out of my lungs as I clenched and spasmed around his girth, feeling pleasured beyond reason.

“You’re such a perfect fit,” he growled into my ear. “I wish everyone could see that your grip is tighter than a fist.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I turned toward the stage to find the bubble still covering the booth.

Valentine held my head in place. “Keep your eyes on me.”

A whimper reverberated in the back of my throat. Under-the-table fellatio and now semi-public sex? We were already in a red room. All I needed were a few accessories on the walls, and my life would be something out of a romance novel.

Valentine’s large hands slid across my bare thighs, sending tingles up my spine. His fingers curled around my ass cheeks, their pads digging into my flesh.

“Move, Innamorata. Ride me hard.” He ran his tongue up and down the column of my neck. The length of his fangs rubbed against my skin, their tips dangerously close to piercing a vein.

A breath caught in the back of my throat, and excitement rippled through my insides as I waited for him to bite.

When Valentine didn’t so much as nip, I raised myself off his hips, feeling my muscles tighten around his length as though trying to keep him in place. My heart pounded in time with the rapid beat of the bass drum, and the tip of his erection stretched me wide once more. Licking my lips, I lowered myself, making every nerve ending tingle as though it had been personally stroked.

Valentine stared at me through heavy-lidded eyes, his lips parted a little to expose his fangs. Right now, he looked as docile as a sated feline but it was only a matter of minutes before he would strike.

Pushing that thought to the side, I steadied my palms against his shoulders and circled my hips, relishing how I could make his breathing quicken with the barest squeeze. Valentine probably wasn’t aware of his intakes of breath or maybe the movement of his lungs was muscle memory from when he was alive, but he felt so warm beneath my touch that it almost felt like he was.

“Ride,” he growled, the sound going straight to my hungry core.

Up and down I went, taking pleasure from his larger body, and wishing I could touch his bare flesh instead of getting hints of it beneath his tuxedo jacket and over his shirt. I loved running my hands down his broad, muscular chest, touching him any way I could and having him reciprocate.

Valentine’s hands remained beneath my dress, keeping me steady as I rode him hard. Pressure built around my core, which seemed to suck him in,