(III) Chapter 7: Bound

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Frankie helped herself into Vlad's flat, as was her usual habit these days.

She immediately noticed the man himself was in route from the kitchen into the living room, nursing a glass of blood as he went. He looked up briefly at her, acknowledging her arrival with a basic enough greeting.

The woman provided a faint reply, entering with little ceremony as she casually shut and locked the door behind her.

She had changed out of her earlier clothing – what she wore now so nondescript on the surface, he never would have guessed in a million years what lay just underneath. Her outfit was comprised of a pair of flawlessly tailored trousers that hugged her ass like high-end yoga pants, but without betraying any seam or outline of underclothing beneath. Her blouse was basic – soft, charcoal gray, and low-cut so just the hint of the harness straps of her bra were visible, but no more than a hint. She shed her coat from her body in one single fluid motion, then her shoes, until she was moving barefoot across the hardwood floor with purpose in her eyes. She tossed her phone onto the nearby sofa as she approached.

He missed her expression as he placed his half-empty glass onto a nearby end table.

"So I was speaking with Feng this evening about how we can approach our Basilio problem, and I think..."

And then there were no more words.

She had taken his face in both of her hands before pulling him down to meet her. She even rose up onto the balls of her feet to ease the distance, body swaying forward a little to lean against the hard line of his front.

Her lips were soft, but firm against his mouth. Determined.

One kiss.

Then three.

He pulled back a little, but only to say,

"I take it you'd prefer to talk about that later then?"

She answered him with the faintest of smiles and then another kiss. Her tongue touched his as she eased into his mouth, taking advantage of his silent gasp of pleasure, and she could sense the delightful shiver that spider-crawled down his back, all the way along his spine and straight into his cock. When the kiss broke that time, his irises were glowing, fangs noticeable behind his lips, his gaze hungry.

Vlad's voice was warm and dark, like smoke.

"Definitely later, then."

Her lips curved in that way that made him weak every time before he quickly descended to partake of her more fully. Her hands smoothed down his front before curling against his ribs, then to the exquisitely sculpted muscles of his back. His threaded into her hair, angling her head until they best fit. With one hand cradling her nape and the other resting in that space between the front of her throat and collar, she opened for him in a way that was purely instinctual.

The heat and silk of his tongue drove a groan from deep in her throat, a keening, pleading sound that only made his kisses hotter, heavier.

"Touch me," she whispered, the words coming out more like a plea than a command. "I need you to touch me... I need your hands on my skin..."

He obliged without hesitation, slipping his fingers behind the front of her blouse to press his palm against the top of her breast where that lovely dragon brand resided; the other glided up underneath the back of her shirt to smooth over the dip in her spine. He teased her with gentle caresses – up, then down, side to side, tracing, charting, memorizing.

He ran the tip of his fingers along her collarbone just as his mouth moved down, a sort of guttural growl left to vibrate against her throat as his lips pressed to her skin, parted, panting. A slick wave of heat slid between her thighs at the sound.

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