He kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her.
She began to relax a little as he held her, tentatively lifting her hands to his shoulders.
Her mouth was sweet. Almost as sweet as the scent of blood that lifted from beneath her skin.
In the old days, when he’d been young, he would have fed from her by now, most likely killing her in the process. But those days were long past.
He was an old one. He fed when necessary but rarely did he feel the overwhelming hunger and desire of his youth.
The young one in his arms aroused his appetite and his senses but she did not threaten his control.
He explored her mouth languorously, his tongue playing with hers.
She responded in kind, but clumsily.
He kissed her until she pressed her breasts against his chest, molding their bodies together. He slid his hands to her bottom, gripping and kneading the firm flesh.
Her lips parted and she breathed heavily against his neck.
“Lie down,” he commanded.
“What about the lights?”
“Don’t you know the myth of Cupid and Psyche? Some lovers prefer the dark.”
He backed her into the couch and brought his body atop hers when she reclined.
She opened her mouth to protest but he silenced her with his own, kissing her again at an unhurried speed.
He cupped her breast through her blouse and squeezed, before lightly running his fingers back and forth.
She murmured her pleasure, wrapping her arms more tightly around his shoulders.
He slid his hand down her side and lifted her thigh, angling it against his hip.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I’m going to touch you.”
He drew up her skirt while he kissed her intently, exposing her skin.
He teased her inner thigh, dropping his lips to her throat.
He tasted her skin, nipping and kissing at an increased pace. And all the while his fingers ascended her thigh to between her legs.
He pressed a single finger against her, perhaps expecting her to pull away.
But she didn’t. She tugged his head toward her neck and moaned in his ear.
His fingers pushed her underwear aside, exposing her to his touch.
She lifted her hips to meet him, panting in his ear as he circled and pressed.
She began to tense beneath his fingers and he took that opportunity to sink his teeth into her neck.
She climaxed beneath him with a low cry as her blood flowed, warm and sweet, into his mouth.
He dipped his tongue in the nectar, savoring the taste, while she shuddered in his arms, her orgasm continuing.
Pain and pleasure mixed together in her body as he drew the life from her artery, drinking slowly.
When her climax had ended and she grew still beneath him, he released her neck.
His tongue moved to lick her wound, ensuring not one drop of her blood was wasted.
With a satisfied smile, he spoke in her ear.
“Sleep, young one. Rest well, remembering nothing of our time together. Don’t return to Teatro again.”
The young woman in his arms closed her eyes and began to breathe deeply.
In a moment, she was asleep.
He lifted himself from atop her slight form and stared down at her, taking one last moment to inhale her tantalizing scent.
For reasons known only to himself, he left her unplucked to pursue more carnal pleasures in the room across the hall.
“Was she delicious?” Aoibhe greeted him, dabbing her lips discreetly with a piece of red silk.
“Very.” The Prince glanced at her mouth. “And yours?”
“Tasty enough as a starter.” She patted the bed on which she was sitting, naked. “I prefer the main course.”
“Where is she?” The Prince sniffed the air, noting that the human scent lingered but not strongly.
“Taking a nap.” Aoibhe indicated a door that led to an inner chamber.
“Did you pluck her?”
“Absolutely.”
“If I’d known what you were doing, I’d have arrived sooner.” The Prince’s eyes moved to the inner door.
Aoibhe rose to her knees and bowed atop the black silk sheets. “Don’t tease me, my Lord. It’s been some time since you’ve allowed yourself to watch.”
He chuckled to himself, as if remembering a secret.
“I watch when sufficiently motivated.”
She sat back on her calves, gazing up at him, her long, fiery red hair streaming across her shoulders and covering her chest.
“Come here,” he commanded, his expression shifting.
She moved toward him.
He raised his hand and pushed her hair behind her back, exposing her breasts.
Aoibhe closed her eyes, pressing herself against him. “I can smell her innocence on you. I assume that innocence is ended.”
The Prince pressed his hand over her breast, feeling the weight of it in his palm, before swiping his thumb across her nipple.
“Enough speech,” he growled, dropping his mouth to her shoulder.
She encircled her arms around his neck, before kissing him deeply.
Then with a low laugh, she led him toward the bed.