Bite Me Royal... (Mature Vampire Romance 18+)

Chapter Sixteen

Farah's P.O.V.

Only a few more hours before my inevitable deathly slumber. I stare out into the emptiness of the early morning through high window of my chamber. My thoughts drift off to the only man I have ever loved, the only man I shalt ever fancy. Even when my body shalt belong to another in the near future, my soul will always remain with him. By now, Amir has returned from his combat session and morning hunt.

That should only mean one thing. A knock upon my chamber doors draws me back to the present. I adjust my silken robes, turn to face the wooden barriers before I finally speak my response. I already have knowledge who it is that stands by the other sides of these walls.
"Come on in."

The doors glide open and in walks he.

"Good rising, my princess."
"Good rising, Zyir. How should I help you?"
"I only sought to...how are you faring, Farah."
"Oh, do not ask me that! Go ask the women in the harem!"
"What are you going on about?"

"You know exactly what it is I speak of, Zyir. Do not toy with me. How do you expect me to compete with them? Do you earnestly expect that I should lower myself to their standard in order to appease you? In order for you to finally take notice of my feelings towards you?"

I speak, I rumble on in anger. The bitter bile begins to burn trails up and down my throat.

"You seek that I should take notice of your feelings, my princess?"

I can only shake my head in pure disbelief, pinching the bridge of my nose whilst I turn to face away from him. He shuts the doors then locks them, compelling me to turn in his direction once more. He takes gradual steps in my direction whilst I subconsciously back away until I make contact with the walls behind me.

"I cannot just take notice of you now when I have loved with you for as long as my mind can recall. I do not seek out the women in the harem because I need you," his voice is barely a whisper, his face leaning closer to mine, his palms pressing flat against the walls on each side of my head.

I battle against unseen urges, battle against unseen restraints, fight to keep my animalistic impulses at bay -seek to push him off of me, instead. But as soon as my palms make contact with the rigidity of his chest, they grow limp. I feel for the darkening of my scleras, the blackly venations that begin to litter all about the sockets of my eyes, the lengthening of my fangs as clearly as I can scent our arousals.

"Drink from me, Farah."
"Zyir, please..."
"You are clearly famished," he whispers sweetly promises into my ear, his cool breathe fanning my neck.

His arms slither around my waist, his neck tilting slightly, his soft pulse calling out to me, luring me in.
"If I drink from you, I might not be able to stop myself. Your scent...it's as intoxicating as the scent of fear. Zyir..."
"Feed, Farah. Go on, I trust you," he finalizes, his arms growing even more firm as my bossom presses into the nakedness of his chest.

With a heavy sigh, a sigh of surrender, the sharpeness of my lengthened teeth sink smoothly into his the hollow of his neck. I devour, I ravish, I draw in the pleasure of lapping from my beloved. The warm metal liquid glides down my parched throat and dribbles from the corners of my mouth. I draw away after having taken enough. My tongue glides over the two little punctures before I proceed to lick my lips -sated.

"Have I drawn more than need be, Zyir? Have I caused you hurt?" I voice, my eyes spearing holes into his ocean-blue ones.

He does not respond with speech. Instead, he captures my lips in his, kissing and feasting and tasting and drawing me even closer. His palms snake to my front, pulling on the silken loops of my robes and letting the garment cascade down my body and pool at my feet. He moves to plant light feathery kisses upon my neck, to the valley of my breasts, and further captures the pebble of my right breast in his kiss-swollen lips.

A deep throaty moan escapes from past my lips with my eyes falling shut in response to the sweetly torture. His palm massages my left breast, his teeth softly pull on my nipple and both elicit a low gasping from deep within my chest. Taking my left breast into his mouth, he begins with his crazing assault. His palms trail down my body and to my rear. He hoists me, causes my lower limbs to slither all about his waist for support.

With his gifted tongue still upon me, he walks us to the softness of vast bed, seats us atop it -I straddled upon him- and positions himself at my entrance. Gradually, he guides my hips to take him in. My eyes flutter shut, my arms wrap around his neck drawing him to me as I gyrate my hips in rhythm with his thrusts. He groans, he grunts,  draws a smile onto my lips. I press my forehead to his, observe his facial expressions through dazed gaze, master them, memorize how each muscle on his body tenses under my touch.

Another sharp gasp resounds from deep inside my chest as he continues to stroke this peculiar spot within me. A few minutes later and I am gradually approaching my high. He abruptly flips us over, my back resting into velvety sheets as he hammers and pounds and thrusts repeatedly into me at a pace heightened.

I hold onto him firmly but not too tightly whilst I finally descend upon the peaks of euphoria. The euphonic bliss floods all my senses just as Zyir's name tumbles down my tongue and escapes past my lips for the umpteenth time now. His muscles stiffen above me. He lets out a low grunt whilst his seed spills into me. I cup his cheeks, press my lips to his fondly.

He draws away from the lip-lock, his breaths ragged, uneven, laboured. Once the calmness returns to him faithfully, he mounts off bed, scoops and cradles me in his arms, leads us towards and into the marble depression filled with rose-scented waters by the center of the chamber.

With the two of us sat in the sweetly solace of the silentness -his back resting into the walls of the depression and mine into his muscled chest- he sweeps my hairs over my left shoulder. His shaft presses flat by the small of my back whilst he scoops the waters into his palms and pours them against my backside. He plants small chaste kisses down the length of my spine and upon the back of my neck and the blades of my shoulders.

"Farah, I love you. I have for the longest time now. Each time I spent with you in the past, intimately as well as in public, I did not know how to express this to you," he speaks so tenderly, his head resting into the crook of my neck.
Smiling to myself, I speak my response. A response that has burn at my chest for the longest.

"Zyir, I love you too. So much..."

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