Blood Slave ( The Nightlife #0)

Blood Slave ( The Nightlife #0) Page 3

Her tongue snaked over me, sliding in and around with amazing dexterity. She knew exactly what to do with that awesome tongue. They say lesbians do it better, they have the inside knowledge to do it right. In general I have found this true, but she put them all to shame.

Lia’s tongue worked an indescribable magic, sliding, darting, delving in and out, fast then slow. And always she had my nub in her lips and teeth. She had this serious hoover action going on my clit. I could hardly stay still, she had me humping and bucking my hips. I barely had any concentration for my face buried between her legs.

Her Gene Simmons freakishly long tongue had me moaning and groaning, my hand fisted in her hair. She fucked me, and I fucked back. I caught a charley horse in my leg at one point from humping her face so damn hard. I’ve seen dick smaller than her tongue, and used far less effectively for sure.

She banged me so hard with her elephant trunk tongue that I forgot to focus on what she wanted from me. She paid for my services, but all I’d done was come in her face. She served me. I remembered my obligation to my client and plucked from her mind what she wanted. Catching one of her thoughts out of the maelstrom of sensation, I gave it to her without warning. I shoved my middle finger in her ass and thumb in her pussy, the two finger stinger.

She liked that a lot. She actually growled right into my wonderfully sensitive folds as I buried my hand deep inside her. And then she just went off. She ground her hips down hard into my face and hand, rubbing in a circular motion. I flexed my fingers inside her and gave her the other thing she wanted so badly. I swallowed her clit whole, sucking it up, my tongue tickling the very edges.

She pounded and licked me raw with her anteater tongue, all the while humping my face and hand. I rubbed and flexed my fingers back and forth, sucking hard on her. I knew she wanted it rough so I ramped up the intensity.

It became difficult to concentrate on my part of the bargain as she attacked me with her anaconda tongue. Then she returned the favor, slipping her finger in my ass, working it around, in and out. She had me grunting and grinding up into her face with my pelvis, same as her. I was so deep into her, lips, tongue, teeth, fingers, going at it with mindless determination, earning every penny of that five hundred.

At the point when I came, my cries muffled by a mouthful of Lia, she did exactly what she’d wanted to do from the moment we met. She bit me on the inside of my leg, a couple inches away from where she’d been eating me out. She buried several fingers inside me, holding me down tight as her sharp little teeth dug in. I know damn well she broke skin, but I didn’t care.

I came harder than ever before. The most intense orgasm of my life. I swear I saw stars. It felt like every nerve ending in my body went off like a firecracker, exploding with this indescribable euphoria. She had me trapped, pinned down. I went ballistic, humping, screaming and clawing at her ass. I’m sure I probably bit into her as well, but she liked it all. She kept on grinding into my face as she turned my world inside out with this awesome orgasm.

It seemed to go on and on, but in reality it probably only lasted a minute or so. She finally released her bite and removed her lobster claw fingers. I felt like I’d been reamed out and wrung out, limp, exhausted. But damn it was so good. Like some kind of religious experience. The southern Baptist accented voice went off in my twisted imagination, “I have seen the light! Lord it shineth down upon me! The Lord sent a freaky Asian lesbian to show me the way.”

I really should go full on lesbo. Who needs cock when you can come like this with a woman? I contemplated giving her back her money. I should be paying her for the experience. We lay there side by side, breathing hard and heavy. She asked the classic question.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

“Better.” I answered vehemently, still trying to catch my breath.

Lia had plans for something more. She got up and rifled through her tiny postage stamp purse and whipped out a little chrome steel bullet with a screw cap. She had a vial full of blow and an agenda. She advanced on me and unscrewed the cap, which doubled as a tiny spoon.

“Care for a bump?” She offered me an itty-bitty spoonful to snort. I nodded and sat up. One up the left and another up the right. She had good quality coke, about the same as the stuff Faustino brought in. Pretty sure she bought it from us, directly or indirectly. Faustino’s product flowed all through the streets of NYC, from the lowliest back alleys to the upper most penthouse suites of Manhattan.

She took a whiff herself, one up each nostril, as I read her mind to see what new forms of debauchery she had planned. I saw it in her thoughts as she wetted her fingertip, dipped it in the bullet vial, and reached down between my legs.

My oversensitive slippery wet sex reacted instantly to the coke. I came all over her fingers … yet again.

“Oh shit. Oh shit.” I grabbed her arm, and she just kept on right at it.

She took good care of me, plunging her fingers in and out, tweaking my clit with her thumb. The woman played my body like a violin. She made me gasp and squeal with the bombardment of sensations. I really should be paying her for this. After having her fun with me for a few minutes, grinning from ear to ear as I rode her hand, she finally let up.

“Now it’s my turn.” She smiled.

“Good … I need a break.” I smiled back.

She waited, not-so-patiently. A wicked grin of anticipation on her face as I dipped a fingertip painted with cocaine up into her slippery folds. I curled my finger up into her, hitting that spot with a ‘come-here’ motion while massaging her clit with my palm. Hips undulating, Lia humped my hand as I worked her.

She really seemed to get off on the rough stuff. She wanted me to dig in hard. She grasped my hand with hers and ground my fingers into her juicy goodness. She came hard leaning her forehead on my shoulder.

“Oh that’s good. You’re … you’re one of the best dates I’ve had in a long time.”

She growled and shuddered on my hand. And then she did it again. She grabbed me and sunk sharp, little teeth into my neck.

“Shit! That hurts!” I panicked.

She’d broken the skin again. But I was overwhelmed by the most phenomenally intense feeling. Better than coke, better than sex, better than anything I’d ever experienced. She returned me once again to the angelic choirs and roaring trumpets of heaven with a back-arching screaming orgasm.

My hand clenched, still buried inside her. I was so absorbed in the moment I didn’t realize I had shoved my whole hand in her to the wrist. By the time she let go her chomp on my convulsing body, she made this freaky snarling noise. She ground down on my hand hard, really hard, humping my whole fist.

She seemed to really get off on the violence of it. I read how much pain I gave her, but she still liked it. She just kept on grinding harder. She had a thing for it, like a real sadomasochist. I went along with it, because she liked it. I aim to please. After a minute or so she finished her grudge-fuck on my fist. It’s a good thing too, my arm had gotten tired. Fist-fucking is serious work.

I pulled my hand out with a wet “plop” sound and a grunt from Lia. She had wet my whole forearm. I think she’s one of those chicks who squirt. The smell of our sex permeated the room. As I walked to the bathroom to wash up, I passed by the mirror and stopped in shock. A thin line of blood ran down my neck.

“You bit me! Look at that!” I pointed at myself in the mirror. “That is so gross!”

I freaked and ran to the bathroom. I could feel the warm blood running down my shoulder onto my breast. “Shit!” I rummaged through the medicine cabinet for the hydrogen peroxide.

I found it and the triple antibiotic with shaking hands. Who knows where her mouth had been today, she was eating me out a few minutes ago.

Before I could begin to wipe up the blood she was on me. “Wait. Let me take care of it. It’s my mess, I’ll clean it up.”

Then her slimy wet eel tongue snaked out and licked from my breast all the way up to my neck. The girl had skills with that tongue. She could take it on the road and make some serious money in a carnival freak show.

Then it hit me and turned my stomach over in flip flops. She actually licked up my blood. And I read it there in her mind plain as can be. She loved it. I tasted like a syrup-covered ice cream cone to her. She’d happily lick me all night long if I let her, as long as I kept on bleeding.

“Eww! Gross! Oh God, that’s so nasty!”

I almost lost it right there. I actually gagged for a second, barely swallowed it down. I kinda have this obsessive-compulsive thing about cleanliness, and blood is definitely unclean in my book. Blood borne pathogens. Diseases of the blood. Hospitals treat it like a damn biohazard.

Lia snickered at my gross-out reaction, like it was all some joke. But she couldn’t hide the fact she wanted more. The freak actually thought she was a vampire.

Then she got really weird. She stared intensely without blinking. I sensed her trying to somehow take control of me with her creepy stare. The chick was really weird, a little too weird for my tastes. The sex was fabulous, but I couldn’t deal with the blood thing, just straight up sick. I may be an escort from a third world country, but I do have standards.

She kept staring at me, had been staring at me for some time. Then she spoke in a weird commanding monotone, “Tell me your name.”

The sad truth is I didn’t really want her to be a stranger. As odd as it sounds, I wanted her to come back, and not for the generous tip. I wanted more of those screaming orgasms. I’m not normally a screamer, but she had a way of bringing it out of me.

So, against my better judgment, ignoring the creepy aspects of everything that had gone down so far, I gave her what she wanted. “My name is Hope.”

I have never told anyone in America my real name. Esperanza de Salvador just sounds so south-of-the-border. Hope has a nice ring to it, one syllable. I delude myself into believing that if I can drop my Colombian accent, employ flawless English and use the name Hope, I can somehow rise above my humble beginnings.

Lia started in on me with that eerie command voice. “Hope, you will not remember our meeting or this conversation. You’re feeling tired. You feel like sleeping. You need to rest.”