Skye Warren - Short Smut, Vol. 1

“Yes,” he said. “ La Traviata, it’s about a fallen woman. It starts out joyous, at a party, and ends with our heroine’s tragic death. We should be home by then.” He stroked my hair, and I nuzzled his crotch. With a laugh he pushed me away. “I know stories may have led you to believe I could concentrate on driving while you blew me, but I assure you Maria, your head in my lap is all the distraction I can bear.”

I relaxed, content to have his hand moving over me.

“You’re the generally good-natured sort, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You know, if I hadn’t been so hungry, I would have just kissed your cheek and left,” he said. “Sometimes I feel sorry for the girls I eat, and you were one of them.”

“Thank you, master.” I rubbed my cheek on his legs, glowing with the thought he liked me enough to feel bad about killing me. “God, I feel like a puppy.”

He ruffled my hair. “You do. Your emotions are pure adoration,” he said. “Don’t worry, my precious vermin, we’ll argue, and kiss and make up.”

After that, I drifted off to the swelling opera and his finger moving over my brow.

“Wake up Maria, we’re home.”

I sat up and yawned, stretching. My body was different, less clumsy. I sat, wiggling my fingers, until Jamie opened my door. We had pulled up outside a weathered stone mansion. Jamie took my arm as we strode up the front stairs. The Breakers, a summer home I toured, sprang to mind. My six year-old self had been enchanted by the place, and I begged my parents to take us there again.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said. “The Surf, my very own scaled down version of the Vanderbilt home. The only thing it lacks is a charming view of the sea.”

The heavy front doors were made of dark carved wood. Jamie opened them with a gentle tug. My childhood memories of a white iced palace solidified into cream columns and a red carpet leading up a great stair. A man sat on the bottom steps, reading.

“Jafari, you’re…” The man dropped his book and gaped at us.

“Darius, Maria,” Jamie said gesturing, “Maria, Darius. I’m tired. Park the car for me, will you?” He threw Darius the keys and led me up the stairs.

I heard the man mumble, “He brought home a woman. I wouldn’t have expected that in a million years.”

I felt awkward standing beside this majestic vampire, guided by his firm hand. As we approached his bedroom-I had no doubt his door was the one with the African art standing outside-I began to tremble. What if I didn’t please him? What if it was the thrill of the hunt that had made him like me?

“You do please me. Now let’s get those clothes off you.”

We moved in a flash. Everything settled around me, and we stood in front of a four poster bed draped in gold. He grabbed my chin and cunt, and as he kissed me, he bit my lip. “I cannot decide which I want more, this,” he growled, licking my lips. “Or this,” he finished, rubbing my twat.

“Both,” I said, leaning into him.

“Such a clever little rat. Take off your pretty necklace first. I don’t want to break it.” He gathered my hair in his hands and pushed me to sit on his bed. I undid the silver clasp and set my necklace on his nightstand.

The whole room was cluttered with art, from primitive masks to over a hundred paintings. There were slave markets and negro princes painted by every major school of western art. With my new eyes, I could make out the details of the brushstrokes. Jamie stood in front of me, and I sensed his approval. He wanted me to see something.

A dizzying array of paintings, their frames crowding each other, all depicting at least one black person, standing in the foreground or lurking in the back. There had to be a reason for the chaos. A large mirror hung on a wall and seeing the room reflected in its surface, I realized he was posing in every painting.

“These all have you in them,” I said and he nodded.

With the stunning portraits scattered about, I don’t know how I missed him. A pair of life-sized sculptures stood in a corner, one black, one white. I wanted to touch them, because I was shy about touching Jamie. He was rich and ancient, and that had to add up to being powerful. And I was, what? Someone who floated through life?

He took a step away from me. “This isn’t a museum, you can touch the art.”

I made my way to the statues, and he told me, “They’re made of marble and ebony, Grecian and Victorian. They’re also my favorites. You have a good eye.”

I stood in front of the marble Jamie. Thousands of years ago, he looked like a Greek demigod. A gilded wreath of laurel crowned his brow, and he held a lyre. Even rendered in stone, his smile was familiar. I touched the cold lips, and behind me Jamie purred.

His hand skimmed up the back of my leg, sending shivers through my skin. I trailed my hand down the statue’s throat, and he moved closer to me, his hand cupping around my thigh, just below my ass. I slipped my hand lower, and his slipped higher. I arched my back, bringing my nipples against the marble and my ass more firmly into his hand.

He fell to his knees behind me, tearing off my underwear. He licked me from my clit to my quivering asshole, back and forth, until my knees trembled. “Jamie, I can’t come if you make me stand here. I’m too afraid I’ll break your beautiful statue.”

Whirling me around, he picked me up by my thighs, resting my cunt over his cock. He held me tighter as I bucked against him. His tongue was in my mouth, and as I sucked it, my fangs slid in.

“ Go ahead and gnaw on me with your new teeth.”

I bit his lip, and honey coated my tongue. I moaned, suckling his lip. He pressed me to the bed and pulled my dress over my head. Jamie stripped, revealing the tight cords of his muscles, then he was over me, rubbing his throat to my mouth. “Do you want me to drink from you, master?”

“Yes, and I’m going to impale you with my cock while you take your fill. Bite me.”

I rubbed his throbbing vein with my lips as his dick pushed at my entrance. I sank my teeth into him, and he thrust himself home. His blood poured down my throat like ambrosia, and I was lost in the sensation of his life flowing into me. His heart faltered, a skip, and I stopped. A fatigue suffused his limbs, and I didn’t want my master to be weak.

“Take a little more,” he said. “I’m going to have to feed today regardless. Besides, in a weakened state, I’m still stronger than any vampire here.”

I flicked my tongue over the blood smeared on his neck. “Do you like it when I nibble on you?” I asked, coyly rolling his blood vessel between my teeth.

In reply, his hips picked up their rhythm and he pushed my leg against my chest, allowing him to pound the back of my pussy. Gripping his hair, I held him to my mouth and bit again. This time I drew long slow mouthfuls, lapping at the wound between breaths.

“Yes, that’s perfect. I want you to come on my cock while I rub your clit.”

“Yes, master,” I said.

“I love hearing you say that with my dick pummeling you and my blood on your lips.”

His fingers blurred on my clit, and as I threw my head back, blood sprayed from my mouth. My legs pumped in the air and I grunted. I came, waves of pleasure rippling over me as my pussy fluttered on his cock.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth,” he said, and nimbly moved to straddle my face, my twat still pulsing. With one hand I held the base of his cock, the other rubbed my clit, seeking another release. Jamie fucked my face while reaching back to dip his fingers in my twat. I moaned and rocked my hips.

Sputtering, Jamie took my hair and jammed my face farther onto his cock. I opened my mouth wide and smiled as much as I could, choking on his dick. “Oh, keep smiling while you eat my cock.”