Caspion’s lips parted as he began to make slow, slick circles.
Could come just from that . . . “And when I pretended you were sinking into my ass”—he leaned forward to whisper at Caspion’s ear—“my seed shot up over my chest, over my face, all the way to the headboard.”
The demon jolted. “Come with me.” Tracing to stand, he settled Mirceo on his feet, then snatched his hand. “Now.”
Mirceo had been testing the demon’s restraint; it seemed the bow had broken.
Caspion started dragging him down the stairs, then through the crowd, all the while scanning their surroundings.
Searching for a place to be alone? Mirceo almost wished he hadn’t insisted on staying here until midnight. “So domineering.”
Caspion paused, turning on Mirceo, that toe-curling demonic aggression at the fore. “Yes, I am.” And now I know why, love. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Does this look problematic, sweetheart?” He gestured to indicate his straining shaft, the head and a few inches protruding from his low-slung pants.
Caspion reached forward and cupped him with a proprietary grip. “Mine.”
Mirceo bucked to his hand. “Not yet. But it will be. Cross the finish line with me?”
Curt nod. He began dragging Mirceo along again, plowing through the crowd.
No one in this packed masquerade could doubt what was about to happen to Mirceo. What a pair he and Caspion made.
A vampire with his dick hanging out and a catshifter-ate-the-canary smirk—and a demon with wild, obsidian eyes, baring his sharpened fangs at anyone who got in their way.
Every muscle in Caspion’s towering frame bulged, and his horns jutted lewdly. More than one titillated female fanned herself as she gaped at them.
When he and Mirceo came upon a hallway, Caspion yanked open the first door, tearing it off its hinges. The fire in him seemed to have become an inferno.
Inside the room a saddled centaur cavorted with two nymph partners. One female rode him while he rode the other. Instead of a pommel, the saddle had a dildo. Each time the centaur bucked, the riding nymph would slip up and down.
The females called, “Mirceo!”
With a jealous growl, Caspion yanked him along.
They headed farther down the hallway, trying another door. The dimly lit chamber was empty. Smooth sheets covered the large, luxurious bed, and flames danced in the fireplace.
Caspion pushed him inside, then locked the door behind them.
So much was on the line that Mirceo suddenly grew . . . nervous. Not about losing his anal virginity, but what if he wasn’t Caspion’s?
What if I fail to please him? Mirceo nearly winced. What if he has to think of females to stay hard?
The demon grasped his face with reverent hands, leaning in to take his mouth again. With each lash of their tongues, Mirceo’s senses swam, his doubts fading.
Caspion licked a fang to draw forth blood. As Mirceo moaned at the delectable taste, the demon slowly tongued Mirceo’s mouth to feed him.
Sharing a blood kiss? Hot, demon, filthy hot. Mirceo drank in Caspion’s groans, sucking on his pointed tongue. Greedy for more blood. More pleasure.
More demon.
_______
Some long-dormant part of Cas seemed to be waking for this male. Clamoring. He couldn’t deny such a primal pull—not when his heart yearned for the prince just as feverishly.
He took Mirceo’s mouth until they were breathing for each other, until he got lost in bliss. Between kisses, they tore at one another’s clothes. . . .
Cas surfaced from the daze when their bared cocks brushed. They’d already stripped? He drew back. “You’ve teased me all night. Got me in a lather.” He ordered Mirceo, “On the bed with you. Now.”
The prince flashed a devilish grin. “As you wish.” He traced, then reclined upon the covers, his muscles taut with readiness. “I’ll try to take it easy on my old man tonight.”
Cas had begun to recognize the difference between Mirceo’s genuine humor and the façade that masked his emotions. Right now, he could tell that the unflappable Prince of Dacia was nervous.
The sound of his mate’s hammering heartbeat brought on another wave of tenderness in Cas. “I’m not going to hurt you, Mirceo.”
“I trust you.” The vampire’s gray eyes turned onyx as he took in Cas’s body. “Gods, I love all that tanned skin and golden hair. My fair-haired Adonis. No male has a more glorious mate than I.”
“Agree to disagree.”
“Ah, you like what you see, demon?” Sly, seductive vampire.
Cas gave a nod. Mine. “Spread your legs.”
Brows raised, Mirceo did.
Cas knelt between them, gazing down at Mirceo’s generous cock, at the beading tip. Seizing the shaft in his fist, he struggled to pace himself—to not fall upon his mate in a frenzy. He leaned down and nuzzled Mirceo’s balls, inhaling his mate’s drugging scent: pure sex.
Mirceo groaned. “You don’t have to suck me, demon.” His accent was thicker than Cas had ever heard it.
“Have to? I’m ravenous for you, mate.” He kissed Mirceo’s glistening cockhead, eagerly sampling its cream.
The prince jerked and moaned.
When the taste of Mirceo’s pre-cum registered, Cas rasped, “Sometime tonight I’ll drink your seed, drink it down.” Never taking his eyes from Mirceo’s, he circled his pointed tongue around the broad head. It was so taut and smooth. So alive. He smoothed his lips over the swollen tip, flicking it till the vampire exhaled a ragged breath.