Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Two (Midnight Harbor Book 2)
Hot Vampire Next Door: Episode Thirty-Two

I don’t dawdle. I’m naked and bare for him in seconds. I don’t even stop to think about the possibility that someone might drive by at any second and see me looking like a whore on the side of the road for one of the infamous Duval brothers.

I don’t care. Because it’s true.

I move to bend over the car, but Bran stops me.

“Hold on, little mouse.” He hoists me up on the hood and I squeak from the shock of the cold metal on my ass. He hooks his hands around my thighs, yanking me to the edge with his vampire quickness. It happens so fast, my head spins.

“What are you doing?”

I would be lying if I said his promise from so many days ago to bend me over the hood of my car hasn’t been ringing through my head like the distant toll of a bell.

He made me a promise.

He always sticks to his promises.

I’m not above pouting at this point.

The hunger in his eyes causes his irises to throb bright orange. “I want to see what murder does to the taste of this pussy.”

Before I can respond, he’s covering me with his mouth.

Feeling him on me in that way, beneath those words, is a sensation I wasn’t prepared for and I arch toward the sky.

Bran’s mouth is clever, his tongue a master.

And of course.

Of course he knows how to treat a girl with his mouth.

My hands turn into claws and if I had sheets beneath me, they’d be fisted in my grip. Instead I scrabble at the cool metal and then satisfy my instinctual need to hang on to something by taking a fistful of Bran’s hair.

“Oh fuck,” I say through a moan as Bran laps me up.

He flicks at my clit, then dips to my opening and fucks me with his tongue.

“Well, well, little mouse,” he says, his hot breath sending a new shiver to my core. “Murder makes you sweet.”

It doesn’t make sense, but the insinuation that I can be vile and wicked makes me fucking hotter than hell. My clit throbs as my nerves, lit like a firecracker, beg for release.

I tighten my hold on him and try to bring his mouth back to me, but he snatches both my wrists and forces me down, pinning me to the hood.

He tsk-tsks at me.

I close my eyes and exhale with frustration at the dark sky.

He’s slower to taste me this time, dragging out the tortuous pleasure of his tongue on my wet pussy.

I buck as if that’ll get me what I want and he nips at my thigh, causing me to squeal in pain.

There’s the telltale sensation of blood welling from a puncture wound, dripping down the curve of my thigh to the swell of my ass.

Bran laps that up too.

“Stop punishing me,” I say.

“Stop fighting me,” he answers.

“I want you inside of me.”

“And I want to hear you scream my name.”

My breathing turns labored as my heart races in my ears.

Screaming doesn’t come naturally to me.

I’ve always been afraid of my own voice.

Don’t be loud.

Don’t draw attention to yourself.

We’re in the middle of nowhere. No one would hear me. Would they?

Bran flattens his tongue against me, tastes me long and deep and moans against me like I’m the sweetest thing he’s ever put his mouth to.

It makes me feel like I’m made of starlight and honey. I tremble, squirm, and Bran tightens his hold on my wrists.

“Come for me, mouse.”

“I want you to fuck me,” I say.

“Oh, I will. But I’m fucking that tight little ass tonight and it’s not going to be fun for you. Because I’m going to destroy it.”

The sudden spike of fear blends with the pleasure in a riotous flutter in my belly.

I have my safe word.

I could use it if it got to be too much.

But…

But…

I want to be wicked and vile with Bran.

I want him to destroy me in all of his wicked and vile ways. Even if it hurts.

He returns to my pussy, works at my clit, and the wave builds at my sternum, and down through my belly.

I writhe on the hood.

Bran holds me down.

I’m just skin and nerves and blinding need.

He hits my swollen clit again and the wave cascades through me.

The stars in the sky blur into bright white smudges and I open my mouth and scream.

“Bran! Fuck. Oh fuck. Bran!”

He takes me through the wave, rides my pussy with his mouth as I buck beneath him, my body trying desperately to curl into itself. But he doesn’t let me. He doesn’t let up until I’m a puddle on the hood.

When he finally lets me go and straightens, dragging the back of his hand over his soaked chin, he smiles down at me with bright amber eyes. “That’s a good girl.”

I’m boneless.

Spent.

Satiated in a way that feels both liberating and gluttonous all at the same time.

Bran lifts me off the hood and puts me on my feet. He kisses me, giving me a taste of my own pleasure.

He’s right—it does taste sweet.

His mouth travels to the curve of my neck, then up to my ear, his breath sending a warm shiver down my skin.

I can feel the hard press of him against my thigh.

His movements have grown frenzied, hungry.

I reach down between us and undo his pants, pulling him out.

As soon as my hand is wrapped around his cock, he growls deep in his chest, fangs sharpening in his mouth.

“If you only knew what you do to me, mouse…”

“I’d what?”

He licks his lips, looks down at me with heavy, glowing eyes. “You’d run.”

My heart kicks up in my ears. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“As if I’d let you.”

Even though I just rode the biggest high on that orgasm, my inner walls clench up at the reminder that he’s claimed me as his.

As I stroke him, I can’t help but watch his face, the way his mouth hardens and his jaw flexes, the way his Adam’s apple sinks low in his throat. All of these little movements that add up to one thing—Bran Duval wants me.

He wants me as much as I want him and I’ve never been wanted in my entire life.

Pre-cum coats the head of his dick and I rub my thumb over the slit, then bring it to my mouth, suck it off. He growls again, nostrils flaring as his broad shoulders rise and fall with heightened breaths.

“You’re not prepared for this, little mouse,” he says.

“Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

He brings his wrist to his mouth and bites into his own flesh. Blood coats his lips and drips from the wound.

I frown at him, unsure of what he means to do and then—

He holds his bleeding wrist over his cock, coating it in wet crimson. Fisting himself, he strokes long, once, twice.

He’s using blood like lube.

Oh shit.

He spins me around, bends me over the hood and grabs my hips, forcing my ass up.

“Fuck, mouse. That tight little hole is just begging to be fucked.”

I breathe out quickly.

He positions himself at my ass and I can feel the head swell against me, ready to plunge inside.

I hold my breath.

More blood slides down my seam, wetting our near joining.

If I wanted wicked and vile, I’m getting it.

He pushes in an inch, slow and steady, and I tense up.

Bran tightens his hold on my hips. “Breathe, mouse.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

I exhale, my breath fanning across the hood.

“That’s a good girl.”

He pushes in further, stretching me, and a squeak escapes me.

It feels like I’m being split in two. Stretched too thin. He’s too big.

“Fuck, mouse. You’re so fucking tight.”

My chest fills with butterflies.

Another inch.

Another.

The wind shifts again and leaves skitter over the pavement and Bran Duval finally seats himself fully in my ass. He holds himself steady, the head of his cock swelling deep inside of me. “Remember your safe word.”

“I will.” My voice is too high-pitched and thin.

He pulls out, then slides back in and I clench against the sting.

“Mouse,” he says on a groan.

I breathe hard, scrabbling at the hood as his pace picks up. He’s enjoying it now and being used in this way makes me feel sickly satisfied.

This is the most illicit thing I’ve ever done and I don’t want to like the way it makes me feel—not physically, not yet—mentally.

Does that make me wicked and vile?

Oh fuck.

Bran pumps faster, punishing me. His grip is bruising, his thrusts no longer gentle and I’m wetter than I’ve ever been as those satisfied wings take flight in my belly.

He’s getting closer. I can tell by the tempo of his fucking, the rough groans, the hardness of his cock.

The in and out, in and out of his cock.

And I think I could come again.

I don’t know how. I’ve never come twice in one go, but I’m primed, burning, clit throbbing.

I think I could.

I want to come while he fucks me this way.

I want to prove him wrong—this is fun for me even if it is painful.

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I reach down between my legs and take command of my own pleasure.

The beat of the orgasm flashes through me like oil in fire—quick and hot and consuming. I cry out and my voice bounces off of the hood of the car and echoes in the forest and Bran pumps deep, spilling hot cum in my ass.

“Fuck, mouse.” He slides out, shoves back in, the head of his cock throbbing at my center. He stays buried for several beats and I collapse against the car, legs shaking. And when he finally pulls out of me, I twist and slide down to the ground and hang my head back against the tire.

Bran drops beside me and takes my hand in his.

When I turn to him, there’s a noticeable pinch around his eyes.

“What are you thinking?” I ask.

I want to know the intimate details of what’s inside his head. I want to know him like no one else does. Because in the end, it won’t be the fucking or the violence that makes what we have special, it’ll be the quiet moments like this when no one is looking, when he tells me his secrets and I guard them with my heart.

“Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll break you,” he admits. He reaches over with his other hand and pushes aside a lock of hair that’s stuck in the sweat on my cheek. “I will always be a little sadistic and you will always be breakable and so devastatingly beautiful it makes me ache.”

Tears immediately well in my eyes. I don’t know what to do with this compliment. It feels too big to hold.

He stands up and gently hoists me to stand beside him. He takes my face in his hands. There’s firelight in his irises as he says, “I was turned too young to know what it means to love with a mortal heart, but if I had to guess, this must be pretty fucking close.”

“Are you saying that you lo—”

He clamps his hand over my mouth, snuffing out the word before it finds air.

“Don’t.”

I dare not move.

“Don’t say it, mouse.”

I give him a quick nod. When he pulls his hand back, satisfied that I’ll obey, I have to ask.

“Why not?”

He glances away from me, his gaze going to the dark horizon of the back road. “Because it fucking terrifies me.” When he meets my eyes again, there’s no glow to his irises. Just a hooded darkness. “And it should terrify you too.”

He scoops up my clothes and helps me dress even though I’m an absolute fucking mess and desperately need a shower.

Our drive back to Duval House is comfortably silent, but Bran’s grip on the stick shift is white-knuckled the whole way there.

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