Legal troubles

Liam and I are a tempest of desire, our love a ravenous beast that’s harder to cage with every passing night. We’re lovers in the truest sense—his silvered eyes searing into me, his cold hands igniting my skin, our bodies locked in a ceaseless dance of lust and blood. The flat reeks of us—sweat, copper, the musk of our last coupling, where he pinned me to the wall, fangs deep in my throat, my legs wrapped tight as I clawed his back, our cries a primal hymn. It’s raw, filthy, a passion too vast to shroud, and the world’s starting to notice—whispers of vanishings, glimpses of us in the dark, a pair too exquisite, too lethal. But with the exposure comes power, a delicious surge in our joined will, our minds a twin blade slicing into our prey, bending them to our whims with a thought. We’re unstoppable, and Liam’s ambition is the spark to set it ablaze.

He paces our lair, shirt unbuttoned, his chest a chiseled expanse of pale muscle I ache to taste, his voice a low growl that coils heat in my core. “We need a shield,” he says, “a firm to bury our tracks, to pave the way.” I lean against the wall, my leather jacket unzipped to bare the swell of my breasts, my shorts riding low on my hips, and I lick my lips, feeling his hunger mirror mine. “How do we start?” I purr, and he closes the distance, his lips crashing into mine, his tongue plunging deep, tasting the blood still lingering from our last hunt. “The receptionist,” he rasps, his hand sliding between my thighs, fingers teasing through the fabric, and I moan, the idea a spark that ignites us—a threesome, a conquest, the first thrust of his plan.

We hit Harrington & Sons in Camden after dusk, the lock snapping under Liam’s grip, the shadows swallowing us whole. Claire’s alone at the desk, her auburn hair a tight bun begging to be undone, her blouse stretched taut over full breasts, her pencil skirt clinging to hips that roll as she shifts. Her pulse thuds in my ears, a siren’s call, and Liam’s hand grazes my ass, a silent command. We step into the light, and her head jerks up, brown eyes widening, her breath a sharp gasp as she drinks us in—him, all sharp edges and predatory grace, me, a vision of sleek curves and wild intent. “Evening, Claire,” Liam drawls, her name a dark caress he’s ripped from her mind, and her lips part, her voice trembling. “We’re c-closed,” she stammers, but her nipples harden under her blouse, her thighs pressing together, caught in our pull.

I glide closer, my hips swaying, my fingers trailing up her arm—cool against her fevered skin, a jolt that makes her whimper. “We’re not here for papers,” I whisper, my breath hot on her neck, and Liam circles behind, his hands sliding over her shoulders, thumbs brushing the tops of her breasts. She quivers, a soft moan escaping, and I feel our power surge—twin tendrils of will sinking into her, melting her resistance. I press my body to hers, my breasts against hers, my hands roaming her waist, slipping under her blouse to graze the soft, trembling flesh of her stomach. Liam tilts her head, his fangs teasing her pulse, and I kiss her—slow, wet, my tongue plunging into her mouth, tasting her heat, her surrender, as she arches between us, a ripe fruit ready to burst.

We maneuver her to the desk, papers flying as Liam hoists her up, her skirt hiking to reveal creamy thighs and a scrap of lace panties soaked with want. He rips his shirt off, baring the lean, hard planes of his chest, his abs flexing as he moves, and I peel her blouse open, buttons pinging off, exposing a black lace bra that barely contains her heaving tits. My hands cup them, squeezing, my thumbs flicking her nipples through the fabric until they’re stiff peaks, and she gasps, her head lolling back into Liam’s grip as he bites—fangs sinking deep, blood welling, a slow, sensual draw that floods me through our bond. Her cry is a throaty wail, her hips bucking, and I feel her slickness against my thigh, her need a mirror to mine.

I strip fast, jacket and top hitting the floor, my bare skin glowing in the dim light, my nipples tight as Claire’s hands reach for me, trembling, then bold, palming my breasts, her fingers pinching until I moan, low and feral. Liam pulls back, his lips stained crimson, and spins her to face him, tearing her skirt away, leaving her in that drenched lace. I press behind her, my naked chest flush against her back, my hands sliding down to rip her panties off, baring her glistening cunt. My fingers plunge in, two then three, curling deep, and she sobs, her body rocking as Liam frees his cock—thick, rigid, a weapon he wields with a growl. He thrusts into her, hard and unrelenting, her pussy stretching around him, and I match his rhythm, fucking her with my hand, my thumb circling her clit until she’s a writhing mess, her juices coating my fingers.

Liam’s eyes lock with mine, silver and molten, and I lean over her shoulder, kissing him—messy, ****, our tongues clashing, her blood and his taste mingling as she trembles between us. My free hand grips his ass, urging him deeper, and he snarls, pounding into her, the desk creaking under the ****. I bite her neck, opposite his mark, my fangs piercing slow, drinking her—hot, rich, a flood that sends me spiraling—and she comes, her scream shattering the air, her walls clenching around Liam’s cock, pulling him over. He roars, spilling into her, thick and pulsing, and I follow, my own climax a wet rush down my thighs, fed by her blood, his release, our power.

We collapse, a sweaty, blood-slick tangle, her breath a ragged sob as she slumps against the desk. Liam whispers into her mind—Forget us, serve us, this firm is ours—and her eyes dull, her will snapping to ours, the first domino in his takeover. I straddle his lap, still hard beneath me, and kiss him again, my hands in his hair, her blood on our lips, my cunt grinding against him, ready for more. “One down,” I purr, and he grins, fangs bared, his hands gripping my hips, thrusting up into me as Claire watches, dazed, owned. Our love’s a wildfire, our power a storm, and this firm’s just the start—step by graphic step, we’ll claim it all, lovers and conquerors, too sensual, too strong to ever be contained.