Kiss Before Dying(2)

As required, I donned a black mask embossed with blood-red jewels that revealed only my cherry-stained lips and darkly kohled chocolate brown eyes, which worked in my favor. It was essential to keep my identity hidden. Fortunately the lords preferred to think of their bed partners as little more than disposable pleasures. None of them enjoyed killing, even when it was necessary. The mask also held an enchantment, obscuring my unique scent. Otherwise Sebastian would easily recognize the fragrance of my blood and, by association, my identity.

To enhance the illusion, I chose a long pale blonde wig to disguise the brunette waves collected beneath. Sebastian loved my hair. He claimed it was a prize of its own. Masking those heavy strands was as important as obscuring my face.

He continued standing in front of me, impossible to ignore, observing me with a trained and critical eye. He was covered in expensive materials, each piece custom fit to his frame. The black jacket molded to his wide shoulders had been left open along the center to reveal the crisp white shirt beneath. Pearly white buttons were opened at the collar, displaying a tantalizing flash of flesh.

“Rise,” he murmured in a thick voice, slightly accented and entirely erotic.

The mere word caused my thin panties to become drenched with hot, liquid arousal. I shivered, goose bumps making me painfully aware of my sexual need. Wantonly, I envisioned the lips that uttered the order against my breasts—sucking, biting, exploring. My nipples hardened at the prospect, forming into beaded points. I shifted uncomfortably in the chair, clit throbbing, trying to steady my breathing.

Sebastian chuckled at my reaction. “Rise, little beauty, and come to me.”

This time, I did.

The four-inch heels I’d chosen were odd to walk in, but they were necessary to add to the illusion and to alter his perception. I purposely rotated my hips with each step, every stride bringing me closer. I had to force myself not to peer into the magnificent face of the man I had decided to give myself to.

The man I was willing to die to be possessed by completely.

“You are exceptional,” he breathed. Reaching out, he pushed aside the thick red velvet cape around my shoulders to reveal the—until now unseen—treasures hidden beneath.

The heavy material clung to the clasp at my throat and allowed him uninhibited access to my body. He started at the base of my neck, fingers skimming across the surface of my chest. One large hand cupped my right breast. He massaged the mound through my thin corset as his thumb caressed the hard bud beneath. Knowing he enjoyed hearing the sounds of the pleasure he created, I didn’t mute my soft moan.

“Tonight I want to hear my name on the tip of your tongue each time you come.”

It wasn’t difficult to make my voice husky and unrecognizable, not with the heat in his gaze, his attention riveted entirely on me. “Tell me your name, sire.”

“Sebastian.”

I repeated the word in a heady tenor, voice quaking, “Sebastian.”

As his face descended, I waited, captivated. How many years had I longed for that plush mouth against my own? To know exactly how he tasted and smelled? His blood was thick, spicy and masculine.

Would the rest of him be as well?

Just before our lips made contact, he whispered, “Tell me your name, sweet.”

Panic almost ruined everything but I quickly recovered, remembering the ruse, how important it was for my plan. “Arianna,” I expelled in a rush, using the middle name I had never revealed to him or any other in his enclave.

“Arianna.” He sampled the name, rolling it off his tongue. “A beautiful name to match a sensual vixen.” His grin made my pussy spasm, heat building between my thighs. “I approve.”

Lips met and parted, tongues darting out. As expected, his taste was intoxicating.

The headiness of his nearness swept through my entire body. The laps of his tongue were tender, brushing against mine as he coaxed a response. Unwilling to disappoint I mirrored his actions, thrusting my tongue into the cavern of his mouth, reveling in his throaty groan of approval.

His hands trailed down to my waist and cupped my ass. Each squeeze became harsher, nearly bruising, but it was the most delicious kind of agony. Years of longing were finally being fulfilled and I wanted to experience it all—both pleasure and pain. The slick wetness between my legs became a raging fire and I moaned at the empty ache.

“Christ, your scent,” he growled, lifting me into the air and forcing me to wrap my legs around his muscular waist as he strode purposely for the bed.

The massive four-post structure was situated against the far wall, next to the old stone fireplace. Sebastian kept his resting place there for the sake of his bedmates, to keep them warm. His body temperature depended on the stretch of time since his last feeding. As I was his provider, I knew it had been several days. It was to be expected that he went to his lover thirsty. Bedmates were loved well before they were drained. Afterward their bodies were taken to the basement and turned into ash inside the incinerator.