Twilight's Possession - Burning Hunger Part 2

Was this for real? She narrowed her eyes and gave him an intimidating stare. "You're not playing me?"

"No, not at all."

Sounded sincere.

Wow, this was a weird turn of events. But it did raise a few compelling questions. The first being, "Why help me if you kidnapped me to stop me from finding the statue in the first place?" she asked, trying to sort it out. Nothing about this made any sense.

"We didn't kidnap you to stop you."

"Then why did you kidnap me?"

"Because we need you," Number One said.

She recalled Number Two's so-called proposition. What was the word he'd used? Serve? "What exactly do you need me to do over the next seven nights? I'll warn you, I don't like surprises. So you'd better give it to me straight."

Was she really thinking of going along with these guys?

Was she insane?

Then again, did she have any other choice? Other than perhaps lock herself in the bathroom until she starved to death?

Even if she were to escape, every day's delay meant the trail for the stolen artifact would grow colder. Once it was sold on the black market, she knew the chances of finding it were nil.

"Serve us," Number Two stated.

"Serve you what? Food? 'Cause I have to tell you, I'm not the best waitress in the world. In fact, I'm a really, really bad one. My last boss would testify to that. But if that's what you want, a personal waitress for a week, I might be willing-"

"Waitress?" Number One said, a slow smile drawing his lips back. "No, that's not exactly what we had in mind."

His smile widened, revealing a set of chompers straight out of Van Helsing.

Gasping, she spun around and ran smack dab into Number Two, also sporting a set of fangs that made her blood run cold. She did a quick one-eighty and smashed into Number One. She stumbled back a step.

"So what do you say?" Number One said, his fists wrapped around her upper arms, the glint in his eyes making her feel small and defenseless. "Serve us and you'll solve your case."

"Oh my G.o.d," she mumbled, too terrified to put together a more appropriate response.

"We promise you'll enjoy every minute," Number Two said, pressing against her back.

"Wake up!" she yelled, wincing as Number Two pulled her hair to one side. "This is just a dream-correction, a nightmare. Wake up! I-I've just watched too many Buffy reruns. They've come back to bite me-"

"We thought you'd never ask!" Evidently taking her last words as an invitation, Number Two spun her around, dragged her body against his, lowered his mouth to her neck...and bit.

White-hot pain blasted through her body like a nuke exploding in her head.

Oh my G.o.d, this is one nightmare I'm not going to wake up from. The worst Friday the thirteenth ever.

The most unexpected sensation followed the breath-stealing pain-s.e.xual hunger. Raw, unbridled l.u.s.t. It sizzled and sparked like currents of electricity, charging up and down Brea's limbs and swirling between her legs like a gathering summer storm.

Her thoughts and fears raced from her mind, swept away by a tsunami of need so powerful there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Questions vanished. Only one thought remained.

Correction. This is the best Friday the thirteenth ever!

Chapter Two.

Hot, sweet blood streamed down Marek's throat, sending pulsing waves of raw energy through his tired body and urgent need to his groin. He jerked the woman closer, eager to take his fill of both her blood and her body. Yet no matter how firmly her softening form molded to his, and no matter how eagerly he drank, he could not get his fill of either.

More!

He drew in another mouthful of her blood. The unfamiliar sound of his heartbeat, slow and wavering but growing steadier, thumped in his ears. Strength returned to his arms and legs. The overwhelming weariness that had nearly overtaken him slowly lifted.

More!

He pulled in a third mouthful of energizing blood. She whimpered, lifted her arms and draped them over his shoulders. Her legs straddled one of his and her hips ground into his thigh as his heat burned into her.

"Ohhh..." she said on a sigh.

More, more, more!

Dayne's growl of protest stopped him from taking what his body demanded. He would kill her if he didn't stop now. They had seven nights to get their fill. Although he craved complete and immediate satisfaction, he knew receiving it would come at a great price. To all three of them.

Meeting Dayne's gaze, Marek gently pushed the flushed, dazed woman toward him, encouraging Dayne to take what he needed. She cried out, visibly disappointed by his apparent rejection. But when Dayne eased her around, swept her hair aside and sank his fangs into her porcelain skin, her expression turned wanton once more.

Agonizing l.u.s.t simmered in his veins as he watched his new blood-mate drink. The expression in Dayne's eyes turned fierce, erotic, as he pulled in a second mouthful of the woman's blood, stirring Marek's l.u.s.t to even more painful heights.

Driven by his need, he ripped the back of the woman's s.h.i.+rt down the center, revealing a stripe of silky skin marred by an ugly black strap.

He groaned.

The woman whispered, "Oh yessss..."

He unfastened her bra and gently lowered her arms, pressing his length against her back. His hips rocked as he removed her clothing from her upper body, driven by a different kind of hunger surging through his system. A s.e.xual hunger.

Dayne lifted his head, releasing her neck. The bloodstained mark on her skin vanished instantly. His tongue swept over his lips, an invitation.

It was done. Dayne was now bound to him, and he to Dayne. For the first time in his life, he was overcome by s.e.xual hunger for another man.

Driven by instinct, Marek hooked a hand behind Dayne's head and with the woman's writhing body between them, claimed his mouth. Their tongues battled, stabbing, stroking while the woman's soft derriere pillowed his c.o.c.k and b.a.l.l.s, the scent of fresh spring air and delicate flowers teased his nostrils and her feminine whimpers and sighs filled his ears.

The agony and ecstasy.

Senses that had slowly faded over the centuries were suddenly painfully sharp, a contrast so severe it nearly drove him mad. He could hear the gusting of air as she exhaled. Could smell the musk of her need. Could feel the cool silk of Dayne's hair twining around his fingers.

He broke the kiss, instead turning his attention to the woman who'd given him so much. By the simple act of being there, submitting to their needs, she'd given both of them a chance at another five hundred years of life. She would get her reward.

The clue she wanted. The dominant lovers she craved. And the release she demanded.

Oh my G.o.d! They're kissing each other? They're bi? That is so hot.

Brea's body was burning up. She was the meat in a Chippendale sandwich and G.o.d help her, she was loving it! Smooshed between two hot, impossibly s.e.xy bodies, her s.h.i.+rt gone, her bared nipples teased to aching erection by the delicious friction against Number One's s.h.i.+rt. Two sets of hands were exploring each other then her body, easing her out of the rest of her clothes, smoothing up her arms and down her sides. Two mouths were tickling her neck and shoulders with teasing kisses and soft nips.

Two voices murmured seductive promises.

Who would have thought it was possible? To be so lost? To experience such overwhelming need?

Before she fully realized it, she was unclothed and so were they.

Two perfect bodies. Toned, tanned and both possessing a latent power that stole the oxygen from her lungs.

Their expressions mirrored each other's, both dark with desire. It was their looks, the heat she saw simmering in their eyes that drove her backward, until the back of her legs struck what she quickly realized was the bed.

That was one enormous adult playground.

Number One caught her hands in his fist and lifted her arms over her head. He stepped closer until his huge frame completely invaded her personal s.p.a.ce, both driving her crazy with desire and making her feel slightly uncomfortable at the same time.

It was a bizarrely thrilling combination-discomfort and desire.

"I can smell your arousal," he murmured, his eyes searing her skin as his gaze swept over her face. "The fear intensifies your reaction."

Did it ever!

Was that why she wasn't screaming for her life? Was that why she wasn't kicking him in the gonads or at least begging him to stop? She'd never had s.e.x with a complete stranger, let alone two. She didn't even know their names.

G.o.d, how bad was that?

"You have been secretly yearning for this for a long time." He pulled slightly, forcing her hands higher in the air. Her biceps sandwiched her head, pressing against her ears and m.u.f.fling sounds, his voice. Her racing heartbeat pounded in her head. "You want a man to take control in the bedroom."

She did. She really, really did.

No. This was so wrong! Control? Absolutely not. Sleeping with men she didn't know. Kidnappers. Bad men. They were bad.

But they looked soooooo good. And felt soooo amazing.

He gathered both of her wrists into one fist and twisted, forcing her to turn her body to the side, where Number Two was kneeling.

"Spread your legs," Number Two demanded.

No doubt what would happen next. A gush of heat pulsed to her core as she met his gaze. A split second later, a spike of guilt stabbed her insides. She was crazy if she did anything with these guys. A shameless hussy. She hadn't been raised like this-to f.u.c.k the first kidnapping Chippendale she stumbled upon...or first pair of kidnapping Chippendales.

Time to reclaim some of her scruples, to recover her brain out of the thick fog that had somehow enveloped it.

How had she gotten to this point anyway?

One minute she'd been talking about a job as a personal waitress...or something like that. And then what?

She looked down at her clothes, lying in a heap on the floor. How'd her s.h.i.+rt get ripped? Why couldn't she remember? Was there anything to remember? Of course there was.

Her neck tingled, burned like she'd scratched it. After Number One released her wrists, she pressed her fingertips to the sore spot, the chill easing the pain.

As she struggled to gather her thoughts, she lifted her chin, an intentional show of defiance. "No."

Number One's formerly charming smile turned wicked and a little threatening, utterly s.e.xy. "But you've given us so much. Don't you wish to receive your reward?"

"Given you what?" Why did she feel like she'd missed something important? Like she'd stepped out of a movie theater to buy some Raisinets, seconds before the Big Murder Scene and returned seconds after it was over?

"We'd like to show our grat.i.tude," Number Two said, his eyes telling her exactly how he intended to say "thank you".

"Grat.i.tude for what?"

Number One ran one hand down her arm and along her side. She flinched when his fingertips brushed the side of her breast. "Serving us. You promised. Remember?"

"Ummmm...not sure." She could remember what had occurred after she'd backed into the bed clearly enough. But before that...she remembered the van ride. Being carried into the bedroom. And she recalled trying to escape. Had something else happened between then and now?

How had her clothes gotten torn?

Her thoughts were cloudy, like she'd just woken from anesthesia. She glanced at the clock. The last time she'd looked it had been around four-thirty. It was after five now. A half hour had pa.s.sed? She could swear they'd only been here a few minutes.

Oh. My. G.o.d. Had they drugged her? That had to be it.

Did they rape her? Her p.u.s.s.y, wet and ready, clenched around aching emptiness. No, she was pretty positive there'd been no penetration. At least not yet.

What was going on? She jerked sideways, tripping over Number Two's knee.

s.p.a.ce. She needed s.p.a.ce. She needed to think. To try to sort through the scrambled pieces of the puzzle she wasn't quite able to see clearly. "Stop it! What's happening? What'd you do to me?"

Before she could blink, she was flat on her back, on the floor, Number Two on top of her. His hips were resting between her legs, his rigid c.o.c.k grinding against her c.l.i.t.

"Why are you fighting us?" Number Two asked, his mouth so close to hers his breath gusted her lips with sweet, warm air. "We know you want us."

"I-It's wrong," she stuttered.

"What's wrong?" Number Two s.h.i.+fted his hips, making that rigid erection of his rub her p.u.s.s.y in a slow, erotic rhythm. "Is this wrong?"

"Uh." No. "Yes." Her eyelids fell closed, shutting out the sight of the gorgeous man on top of her. She'd never had a guy who looked that good want her. Was he blind? She was plain old Brea. Nothing special to look at. Nothing special to talk to. Nothing special, period. "I don't even know your names," she heard herself say.

"I'm Marek," Number Two whispered in her ear. "And that's Dayne."

She s.h.i.+vered when his breath tickled her ear. "Marek. Dayne. Unusual names." She felt someone's hands on her ankles, pus.h.i.+ng them up, forcing her knees to bend. Marek angled his hips down until the head of his c.o.c.k was prodding at her slit.