Princess Fallen, page 4
part #1 of Vampire Princess Diaries One Series
He grabs my hair this time, forcing my head up to meet his emerald gaze. “You, princess. I want you. In my bed.”
Shivers race through me, and I inhale. The scent of him. That masculine, animalistic scent… I can’t get enough.
“I’ve said it before,” I rasp. “What’s stopping you?”
“You. You stopped it before. You pushed me out of your suite.”
Right. I did. Because if I hadn’t, I’d have taken his blood. Not an issue now. I already took his blood, and I’m renewed. My body feels no repercussions from the tangle with the thugs. None. It’s unreal.
No hunger for blood blinds me. I’m satiated. Now? My only hunger is for Victor Rogan inside me. Fucking me.
My fangs haven’t yet retracted, and they likely won’t until I’m sated in another way.
Yeah, blood lust and sex are intertwined. They coexist, dependent on each other.
I part my lips, baring my cuspids. “I’m not pushing you away now.”
He pushes me against the brick wall—
Then he turns abruptly. One of the unconscious thugs is moving. Rogan steps away and knocks him back into oblivion with a kick to the head.
He returns to me and grabs my hand. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
8
Ten minutes later I’m in Victor Rogan’s penthouse.
I’m curious, but my aching need for him blocks everything out. We fall into a clench and rip each other’s clothes off.
And I do mean rip. My T-shirt is in tatters, my bra cut in two. And my thong? Yeah, no more thong.
His garments fared better than mine, but not by much. My fangs made quick work of his black button down. Too bad. He looked hot in it.
He looks way hotter out of it, though.
I’m literally drooling, he’s so magnificent. His shoulders are tanned and muscled, his pecs perfect and hard, his abs tight as a drum. Black hair is scattered over his chest in the perfect amount, and it arrows down to his nest of curls from which springs—I was right—a gorgeous cock.
Not only huge but gargantuan. Perfect in its beauty, with two veins intertwining like purple marbling on a piece of tan granite.
Hard as granite too. I can tell just by looking. Just by salivating.
Does he like what he sees as much as I do? From the low growl that seems omnipresent, I assume he does.
“Fucking beautiful,” he says.
Though my body is already an inferno, I warm further. His gaze melts me, penetrates me, makes my blood gush faster and my pussy throb harder.
I don’t want to wait.
Don’t want to fucking wait.
Need him inside me. That seduction my father ordered? The information I’m supposed to glean? It all has to wait. Right now I need to be fucked. Good and thoroughly fucked, and Victor Rogan is just the man to do it.
He grabs my hand and ushers me through the suite to his bedroom.
“Get on the bed,” he growls.
I don’t even consider disobeying. I crawl onto the black comforter, my fair skin and red fingernails and toenails a stark contrast to the darkness.
“Spread your legs, princess.”
Again, I comply.
He closes his eyes and inhales. “You’re wet. God, you smell sweeter than any wolf female I’ve ever met. It’s fucking insane.”
“Not insane. You smell better than any vampire or human.”
“Still insane. It’s not supposed to be like this. Not supposed to… Fuck it.” He climbs on the bed, hovers over me, and thrusts his cock into me.
We groan in unison.
Completion. Completion I’ve never felt before.
“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, you’re so tight. So perfect.”
He stays embedded inside me for a moment, until I begin squirming.
“Anxious?” he says.
“I need you,” I grit out. “Fuck me. Please.”
He pulls out and plunges back in. With each thrust, I burn hotter, faster, and within minutes I’m at the precipice of an orgasm.
My fangs itch, and the flesh of his shoulder beckons. I don’t need blood, but I need to bite him. Sink into him as he’s sinking into me.
“Fuck, princess. Fuck!” He grinds into me, hitting my clit in the perfect way, and as I rise to orgasm, I bite into his muscle.
His pheromones—all male, all wolf—infuse me as he empties into me, releasing.
The trace of blood trickles along my tongue and down my throat as I pulse around his cock, our climaxes in perfect harmony.
We lie together, our bodies joined, for a few timeless moments, until he pulls out and rolls to his side with a low groan.
“Damn, princess.”
My breath comes in rapid puffs. “Damn,” I echo.
Silence shrouds us then—silence that doesn’t seem odd at all. Almost as if we know each other, have been together forever and are completely comfortable in the afterglow.
Within a few more minutes, I lose consciousness.
“Wake up, princess.”
I stir, lost in the haze of slumber.
“Wake up,” the low voice says again.
“Mmm.” I stretch, my eyes still closed. “Don’t want to.”
“Wake up, or I’m going to dive between your legs and lick your pussy until you do.”
I smile, still not opening my eyes. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
“It’s both. I’m eating you either way. The only question is whether you want to be conscious for it.”
My eyes pop open.
He hovers above me, his green eyes wide and full of fire, his lush hair in disarray around his shoulders.
“It must be a sin for someone to look so good in the morning,” I say, fingering a strand of his black hair.
“You look pretty damned hot yourself, princess. Now spread those long legs.”
He slides downward, kissing me along the way. My breasts are round, my nipples hard. He hasn’t paid any attention to them, something we definitely need to rectify. For now, though, I want his tongue between my legs.
He promised. Or threatened. Who cares?
He nestles between my legs and inhales. “God, your scent. Drives me insane. Tell me, princess. Do you taste as delicious as you smell?”
“One way to find out.” I grip the covers, anticipating.
Waiting.
Still, he stares at my pussy, inhaling. “Beautiful,” he breathes.
“I’m glad you find my pussy attractive, Rogan, but could you…? Please…?”
“I’m savoring you, princess. I only get to taste you for the first time once. I want to make sure it’s perfect.”
His words make me shudder.
We’ve already fucked, but there’s so much we have yet to do. I want to glide my lips and tongue all over his magnificent body, taste his cock, suck on his nipples, run my fingers over his hard thighs, his corded forearms.
Slide my hand into his and entwine our fingers together.
Damn.
I’m falling hard and fast, and I still don’t even know the guy. I came here to seduce him and get information about a murder, not to fall in love with him.
“Rogan,” I whisper.
“In good time, princess.”
I open my eyes. “No, I mean…” I can’t force the words out.
I don’t want to force the words out.
We need to stop.
Stop.
I open my mouth once more, but—
“Damn!” I bite my lower lip.
Rogan is licking my clit, tonguing my slick folds, nibbling and biting, sucking and eating.
And oh my God, I’m in heaven.
In heaven floating on a cloud.
“Damn,” he says against my flesh. “You taste like apple pie. Fucking apple pie, princess.”
“You like apple pie?” I grind out.
“It’s my favorite dessert,” he growls. “Second favorite now.” He dives back in.
I trail my fingers to my breasts and cup them. I find my hard nipples and pinch first one, and then the other. Sparks surge through me, from my nipples down to my pussy.
Rogan still licks me, probes me, sucking on my clit until I’m almost ready to burst and then moving down to my channel, pulling my labia between his teeth, all the while his omnipresent growl hums in the air. Hums in my body.
He brings me to the peak again and again, nibbling on my clit until I’m ready to burst and then going back to probing my pussy.
“And you called me a cock tease?” I grit out, grabbing his head.
He chuckles against my flesh.
Yeah, he knows what he’s doing. And he’s damned good at it.
He continues his passionate torture, until finally he lifts his head and grins. “I guess I’ve made you suffer enough.” He sucks hard on my clit and thrust two fingers inside me.
And I erupt like a fucking monster volcano.
Electric shards burst out my fingertips and then hurl themselves back in, culminating in my pussy.
“That’s it, princess. Come all over my face.” He laps at my clit again and again.
If possible, this orgasm is even better than last night’s, when I was fortified with his blood. How can this be?
The thought is fleeting, though, as emotion bubbles through me. Elation. Intoxication.
Addiction.
Fucking addiction.
Now that I’ve felt this, can I live without it?
He’ll jump through all kinds of hoops to get to you.
Fuck.
Climax killer.
Mental note: Don’t think of your father in the middle of an orgasm.
I free fall back to the bed, Rogan still working between my legs. Finally he crawls upward, his stubbled chin glistening, and shoves his cock inside me.
I’m tight from the climax, and he burns through me as if his dick were made of hot coals. A perfect searing pleasure-pain, and I’m more than ready.
He plunges and plunges and plunges, and as he hits my clit with each new thrust, a new orgasm rises in me, this one different but no less explosive.
It’s internal this time, and he thunders into me, releasing.
Together we come, our hearts racing, our breaths rapid.
My fangs have dropped, and I’m ready to plunge them into his carotid and take what I desperately need—
Then he pulls out. Instead of falling to the other side of the bed as he did last night, he stands.
“It’s been fun, princess.”
Is this a kiss off?
Seriously?
“Yeah,” I say, baring my cuspids. “Fun.”
He looks away, dresses quickly, and walks toward the door of my bedroom.
Wait… My bedroom? We were in his penthouse last night. We—
“What gives, Rogan?”
“Nothing.”
“How did we get here? We made love in your bed last night.”
He meets my gaze. “First, princess, we didn’t make love. We fucked.”
“Semantics, Rogan.”
“Think what you need to think,” he replies. “Second, I brought you back to your room last night.”
“Uh…how?”
“Easy. I wrapped a sheet around you and carried you down. You’re light as a feather.”
To him? Maybe. “And no one wondered why you were carrying a naked woman in the elevator?”
“I’m the owner of the hotel, princess. I have my own elevator. By the way, I sent your clothes to cleaning. They’ll be returned by noon today.” He turns toward my bedroom door.
Really? He’s going to leave without a kiss? Without another word?
Without letting me feed?
As if reading my mind, he turns and meets my gaze. “Have a safe trip back to Chicago.” Then he exits.
I’m numb.
Numb and fucking hungry.
Does he think this is goodbye? Because he’s wrong. I came here for information, and I aim to get it. I need his cooperation.
I rise, nearly stumbling. I’m a little lightheaded from the two orgasms plus I need blood.
The problem? The only blood that will satisfy me just walked out of my suite.
Fine.
Two can play this stupid-ass game.
I shower quickly and don the vampy clothes I brought with me. Dark red tank, black jeans, leather thigh high boots.
Victor Rogan, you’ve met your fucking match.
9
I feed quickly on more of the bagged blood I brought with me. It quells the blood lust, but again, the hunger for Rogan’s blood remains.
He’ll jump through all kinds of hoops to get to you.
Has he?
He saved me from the thugs last night, but wouldn’t any man be so chivalrous?
He sure seemed to be able to leave this morning without any regrets. His “have a safe trip” was clearly an afterthought.
I leave my suite, dressed to kill, and wander to the elevator. I look around before I press the button. Rogan said he had his own elevator. Where is it?
It’s no surprise that I slept through him bringing me back to my suite. I was sated from his blood and from an orgasm. Still, he must have been pretty quiet and gentle. I’m not a heavy sleeper.
And why bother?
Why not let me sleep at his place?
Is he one of those guys who doesn’t like women to stay over? I roll my eyes. Probably. Well, I’ll take care of that.
I hit the down button, and an elevator arrives and the doors open. I get in, joining several others.
“I can’t believe that progressive jackpot yesterday,” a woman says.
“I know. Can you believe the luck? Why don’t those things ever happen to me?”
“Pure chance,” the first one says.
“I heard Jennifer Lopez’s mom hit one once,” another says. “Her daughter has all the money in the world. What’s her mom need with a jackpot?”
“Not fair.” This time a man.
The elevator arrives and the doors part. Thank God. I’ve had enough of the gamblers whining. Las Vegas is all about the house. Don’t they know that? Sure, sometimes you beat the odds. But still, the odds are the house will take your money and you’ll go home broke.
I exit the elevator and head toward the concierge’s desk.
“May I help you?” a young woman asks.
“Yes. Where might I find Victor Rogan?”
“The owner? He doesn’t come down here.”
“He was here last night.”
“That was to congratulate the progressive winner. He’s usually not on the casino floor.”
“Okay. Where is he, then?”
“He has an office on this floor and in his penthouse.”
“Where’s his office on this floor?” I look around at the area. The casino is massive, but a few hallways trail off from the lobby.
“I… Do you have an appointment?”
“No.”
“Then I’m sure I can help you. Or one of the managers can.”
“I’m sorry. I want to see Victor Rogan.”
“Let me see if he’s in.” She picks up the phone and hits a button. “I’ve got someone here who wants to see Mr. Rogan.” Pause. “Yeah. Sure. Thanks.” She hangs up. “He’s not in the office this morning.”
“I see.” Probably up in his penthouse, then. “Thank you.” For nothing.
If I were a secret owner’s elevator, where would I be?
I roll my eyes again. Doesn’t matter. Even if I could find the elevator, I don’t have a key or a code or the ability to crack whatever else kind of security thing he’s installed.
I do have a nose, though.
Only problem? It’s seriously like trying to smell a needle in a haystack. This hotel is packed with beating hearts and interesting scents.
I make my way through the casino. Mornings are a slower time, but it’s still densely crowded. This is when the old ladies sit at the nickel slots, feeding in coin after coin. Except it’s all digital now, so all they need to do is press a button. Do they realize they go quicker and lose more money that way?
I walk past the craps tables and then blackjack and pai gow poker. Off to my left is the high stakes area. It’s roped off to keep out the riffraff.
I don’t have ten grand to drop, so no way will they let me in to look for Victor.
Here’s the issue, though. I smell him. As soon as I got to the entrance of the high stakes area, the mélange of smells parted like the red sea. God, his fragrance is powerful and all-consuming. Already my gums are itching, my pulse throbbing.
Victor is somewhere in the high stakes area. Now would be a really good time to develop the vamp vision I lack.
How do I get in?
There is one way…
Fuck it. I’m going for it.
I approach the pretty young woman manning the area.
“May I help you?” she asks.
“Yes. I’d like to enter.”
“I’ll need a credit card with at least a fifty thousand dollar credit limit on file.”
I focus my energy and will toward her. “I don’t have one, but you’re going to let me in anyway.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t—”
“I don’t have one, but you’re going to let me in anyway.”
The woman cocks her head as the tension fades out of her facial muscles. “Of course. Go right in, Ms….”
“Bates.”
“Ms. Bates. Of course.” She unhooks the rope and lets me pass. “Enjoy yourself.”
I nod and walk past her and into the area. It’s bigger than it appears from the casino, as it curves to the right and opens into a much larger perimeter. High stakes slots line the walls, and tables grace the rest of the place. Only one or two players sit at each table.
I inhale.
Just his scent puts my body on alert, my gums tingling with the need for my teeth to descend. I literally follow my nose until I reach a door marked private.
He’s behind that door.
And he’s not alone.
I know this only because I hear two voices. Whoever is with him doesn’t have a scent, at least not one I’m capable of discerning.
Which is also odd. Perhaps Rogan’s scent just cancels everything else out for me.
I draw in a deep breath, gather my courage, grip the doorknob, and turn it. Then I slide the door open.
