Risque was certain, her lover was acting.... Strange. Just what about she could hardly tell, surely it was the upholstery. Certainly, it had everything to do with the salesman she had threatened. Why wasn't she surprised. Yet, Risque somehow knew better. Somehow knew that was not what he had meant. Risque seemed content to pin it upon her latest victim. Now who was acting strange? Her gaze narrowed to slits as eyed him, that pale piercing gaze of hers lingered upon his own as if reading his very mind and yet clearly unable to do so. Men. His reply was hardly any hint to anything! Strange man. How it was well in her nature to needle, to dissect and pull out all she had desired to learn until she found the answer she sought. There was not a single soul that could keep something from her. Yet now hardly seemed to be that moment. Especially when he forced that smile upon his lips that caused the gentle dashboard light to glint off his magnificent fangs. That strange unspoken moment passed like a foul stench within a powerful, gusty breeze. With Darcy's driving, it hardly took long before they found themselves at that notorious 'make out' point. The place perfectly abandoned as if reserved for the pair. That 'makeout point' was a hunting ground her lover frequented enough. How she was far more captivated by the way that he spoke of his victims, reveling in her mate's cunning, the brutality of his ways. Ah good, he was still in there. Her monster.

The she-devil uttered that those mortals would always be cowards in the end. Mostly. There were those rare exceptions and yet they were so few and far between. Darcy explained his own finding that men and women were two vastly different creatures when it came to those final moments. "You will need to show me what you mean." How her lightly accented words provided an invitation with her piqued interest. It was certainly an activity that they both would enjoy. How certain she was that there was a lesson to be learned. She was quite certain that it took a woman to know a woman. Women being the far more complex creatures, simply needed a different approach. Leverage. How well she knew how to break such beings. Male or female, it hardly seemed to matter. It was merely about the way one approached the matter at hand. Yet at the end of the day, it never changed the fact that they were just a meal to sate the burning, unquenchable thirst, to replenish the heat and power that fueled the undead. How easy it could have been to delve deeper on that very interesting topic and yet, he hardly took her here to merely talk about human nature. Of all things even despite her various opinions she certainly contained. That topic was one that was easily dismissed as the body never forgot. How he wasn't unhinged with need. It was almost impressive to see his control.

It was at that very moment she settled upon those simple rules. As if they needed to be said. How certain he already knew this, it was practically ingrained within his very makeup. Hm. Could she even give him this? That one night of his own? A promise she should have never allowed herself to keep. But that nagging what if.. That curiousity of just what her mate would do... How it would feel. Not that she tired of her own way. Yet the time for talking was through.
He seemed charged. More beast than man even beneath that attractive guise. Anticipation grew, bold and thick as though you could feel that charged energy in the air before lightning struck. The click of seatbelts was the only thing that could be heard before they collided like thunder. Their mouths fed from that building passion. How well they knew this precarious dance. How he knew her body and her needs that were as fickle as she was. How he was designed for her needs, he knew how she wished to be worshiped, touched, kissed, fucked. It was the moment that the taste of blood, his blood pooled upon her tongue had awoken that dominant monster within her veins. Intense by her nature as she was dominating in everything that she did. How quickly she seemed to awaken, a growl formed within her chest.

How she fed off that tang, mixed with his own flavour and that meal that had shared earlier. That desire to dominate him unsurprisingly reared its head but the hungry desire to suck that taste clean was far more prominent. That was when she felt his hand. Oddly gentle.. And in control. How she was already slipping. That desire to simply ride him coiled inside of her. She didn't want to play the gentle game of lovers not when their monsters had come out to play. Yet... those kisses, purposeful in their decent found her neck, the daring threat of fangs scraped across her skin in a way that nearly tore a sound of anticipation from her lips. He taunted her with a promise for his brutality and yet it never came. How easily he knew that perilous path of her body.

A path that led to ruin. Only the best kind.

She nearly ripped the jacket from his form, refusing to linger upon this act with clothes, a sound of that increasing want was stolen from her cowboy as his hand found her thigh. That removal of clothing was like an invitation for him to do that same to her. In but a moment his hands swept upward, discarding that first layer like she was his only birthday present all along. He seemed almost distracted by the sight of her form when she moved, suddenly. That single moment of distraction was all she needed to strike, rapidly crossing the boundaries of that space to take that dominant position for herself. She hissed as her ass accidentally honked that horn. Curse that lack of space. Ah but this position she could work with. How well he knew it to as his body responded to her, hardening as though his pants became more of a cage than she was.

She uttered his options as she undressed his upper torso, revealing the chiseled planes of his body. How certain, she had him defeated him to the persuasion of her body. She distracted him with her words pressed against the column of his neck before she let her fangs do what his did not. She bit. Of course, it was merely a shallow bite... a toying one in comparison to what she was capable of. She felt that growl vibrated through her fangs that blurred into the distinct sounds of want which almost fueled her to sink in further, with the sound of want uttered into the wound she crafted. It was one of ownership, of dominance. How she distracted her beast with the apt shift of her hips, her soft, seeking tongue lapped up that taste she only wanted more of. That shirt was soon gone and abandoned, that question lingered in the air between them. She felt the grind of his own hips against hers. How this would be so much simpler without pants. How she was certain she had him, right within her grasp. He merely needed to say the words and that long tortuous wait would be over.

His voice grew thick with need, that prompted an all too dark look within her depthless eyes. He did not sound like the desperate man she expected even though his want was clear. How certain he would be at the state where he would beg her to end his suffering. She knew he was not above begging her. How she had... misread that moment. She rarely ever did and yet tonight there was something different about him that night. An edge that was not there prior. He said nothing as she would have expected, only choosing the focus on the rest of her undress, his distracting hands rove across her feminine physique and all her swells of that perfect porcelain flesh. She was bare before him, from the waist up. Her breasts freed as he moved to find those sensitive peaks. His fingers soon traded with his mouth...and fangs that scraped the sensitive puckered flesh. She thrust herself forward as she allowed her body to press into him, arching into that act to encourage his fangs with a befallen moan. How she wanted the feel of his teeth, to feel that welcoming the sweet embrace of searing pain. But it never came. She growled at him, fully ready to chastise him for his hesitation. What was he waiting for? Her hypnotic pale blue eyes met his own mismatched gaze.. His words drew her attention as if he found that moment to remember the question, she had demanded of him.

He had a request.

Oh? Was that stirring of anticipation she felt? Excitement? The moment she was about to part her lips to speak her impatient 'what is it'... he sprung. With exceptional speed, Darcy had shifted their positions to place himself above. That request never came, but that movement of his body made it clear what he wanted. Her mind reminded.... Of this position during that brief... encounter of play. It had felt equally as foreign as it did now... and yet here there was something almost demanding. It was clear, neither of them were playing. At least no game either of them had played before.

A prompt snarl ripped from her throat, unaccustomed to that sudden way he attempted to take control. Another movement saw the chair lowering, only placing her further beneath his body. How her mind roared... How she nearly used her superior strength, that need to dominate clashed with that sudden intrigue... that feel of his weight that bore down upon her thoroughly felt as he needlessly uttered his request to be on top. She knew it had to be coming, that attempt at role reversal. Perhaps, she could... try it, after all, the feel of him didn't feel that bad.

"Carry on.." She nearly growled as her hands swiftly found his back, fingertips felt the need to press into his skin as if she wanted to lodge those claws into him. His lips crashed into her own, a drowning sensation of him. The feel of his body.. His lips, the weight of him. How it defied every true dominant bone in her body. She growled against his kiss and yet it was a cross between something hungry as it was feral. His own groan escaped him. A moment later he was reaching for her pants, the act of removing them was hardly a difficult task for him even in that restricted space. All she could feel was the air against her mostly naked form... only she wore him instead of clothes. New sensations whirled inside of her like a building tornado. He had his fun. This was enough. The request was fulfilled. He was hardly specific... when he should have been. After all, on top hardly described the duration. Truly, he should have known better.

Her fingers dug into his back before her other hand reached to press into his shoulder as she intended to shift positions, offering her leverage. It was too late to move away when Darcy's head snapped and fangs were within the offending arm that was going to aid in the shift of their positions. A sharp, loud pain screamed through her and yet she was far more shocked that he had bit her that she had forgotten all about her plan. He bit her. That growl seemed to belong more to a frenzied animal than her trained lover. When was the last time he had snapped from that control? A challenging hiss broke free from her lips.. Her eyes wild with boiling rage of the unforgiving goddess she was. Not a second later as if he realized his own mistake his teeth were quick to release her as if surprised at that impulsive act.

She would kill him. No maybe fuck, feed and then kill..

It was like she was looking for that excuse and he gave it to her. His hand ensnared her wrist... as she raised her free hand to wrap around his throat.

His hand encased her wrist before he muttered that sorry. Sorry? She had been poking and prodding at his control.. For how long? Tested his resolve in the most arduous trials and this was what broke him? Sorry?! He appeared to have snapped out of it but he was all dangerous edges... unpredictable. "You bit me." She ground out those incredulous words her fingers tightened around his throat and yet she caught sight of that blood. She could not believe he had snapped. Not when he was so close to achieving something they had never attempted before.

No, it was not like that usual bite she allowed him in the heat of the moment. This was purely a loss of control. She looked like a cobra ready to strike. Or maybe more like she was going to blow and take everything with her.. Sorry?! Did he realize what he had done?

That truck, him... nothing was safe.

And yet Darcy began to lick his that wound he had made and she made no motion to remove her arm from his tight hold. How distracting his slick tongue was... he did not think he would be rewarded after that, did he?

It was merely a matter of what punishment she was going to execute.

To offer him control had been a mistake...

Lust and rage rioted within her. There no telling what would win in the end.

Rique made a mistake. How it pissed her off more to admit that... but how dangerously erotic that sensation of what he was doing.. he better..... those words within her own mind silenced by his tongue. And another bite. It was far more controlled this time and a moan escaped her. He pulled her right out of the war he had brought onto himself. When did her leg wrap around him?

His apt tongue swept through the streaming wet red that pooled freely from the wounds that were caused from his weapon-like teeth. How she could practically feel that tongue other places. He looked lost in a reverie, lost in her blood.. with his body pressed against her own, that distinct bulge, even with his pants on was unmistakable as it pressed against her sex as he pressed into her.

With each bite came another ardent press of his hips more demanding than the last , that sensation erotic in a way she'd not truly expected. It was distracting from her true intent. How that rage surged through her like a pulsing heartbeat but so did that... absolute, demanding, vicious want. How well those potent emotions danced together. It created one demanding need within her that needed to be released and yet she seemed entranced with the way he ravaged her arm as he was entranced by his actions. He almost seemed to become almost delicate, as much as a way that ripping into one's flesh could. How that sweet pain blurred into pleasure with his intentional movements. How she could hardly help that second more demanding moan when his fangs broke her flesh again and again. Her leg that wrapped around his waist tightened in time with him as if to increase the friction exactly where she wanted, her own hips shifting with her building want. Her body worked relentlessly to heal as he made far more wounds than he'd ever dared to before. Her arm should have been rendered useless. She was conflicted with that dominance that wanted to surge forth. A low growl escaped.. as if frustrated pealed from her throat.

Yet her body had a mind of it own. She could not deny how desire pooled like something heated inside of her core. The wet need of her body was equally unmistakable as his own arousal. She wanted to feel skin not jeans against her most sensitive parts. Why wasn't he naked yet? Why wasn't he in her yet? Why had she forgotten her first course to dominate him?

There was so much blood.. it was a wonder with all those fangs that it was even usable as he had tore into her. It was almost like he wished to eat her 'alive'.

Her blood that nearly looked black as it trickled down her arm in the darkness of his truck. She moved her arm as if she intended to take it away from him. But truly she wanted that blood to flow.. wanted to feel it like a lover's caress as it danced across her the valley of her breasts. Yet it was everywhere even with her rapid healing. How Risque looked more like a victim than a lover in that very moment with the amount of blood that painted both their flesh... and yet the mere sight of all that blood seemed to fuel her more. How fixated he would likely be as her hand released his throat to slip between them. Those apt fingers had simply found his jeans undoing the button as her knees rose up to position her heels of her boots to his hips before clamping down. She raked them down his outer thighs while taking the rest of his pants and boxers with them to his knees. She hardly needed to be in charge to take that control it would seem.

She was far from gentle and yet the want that nearly caused for her body to ache wasn't either.

It was admittedly instinctual that her hand gripped his freed length, feeling that firmness within her palm as she tightened.. hard enough to make most men cry out. Yet it was a fine line between pain and pleasure. It was like she kept him hostage within her hand that prevented him from entering her as he might have wanted to. It was almost as she silently demanded that he use another request just to enter her or provide him any true satisfaction to his needing body. She arched into him with wanton fervor.

"Here I thought you wanted to fumble around like teenagers.. gentle and.. boring. " How she knew that to be a lie. There was very few things gentle about her cowboy no matter what she dressed him in. How she enjoyed his sharpened edges, pressing into them, fueling them.. welcoming the darkness that she nurtured inside of him.

How she wished to toy with his chaos. How she was not built for boring but neither was he. After all, their bodies were not built to endure for no reason at all.

"Au contraire, mon monstre... you are just as bad as me." Her accented voice was unmistakably thick with her own thirst. There were reasons she permitted him access to her, why she allowed him to be her mate, why she cared to tie herself to another being at all. Even if those reasons were convoluted and perhaps even escaped her entirely.

However.. did she really say that? Calling him as bad as her? How highly debatable that was and yet he was in his own ways. How there was a sentiment there even if it was noticed at all or not. A veiled compliment. Her pale chilling eyes watch him with a predatory want to sink her own fangs into destroy his flesh and at the same time claim his mouth. Or maybe just claim him so deeply the marrow of his very bones wouldn't be untouched by her. Her eyes shifted from his as his bloodied face in search of that perfect place upon his body to do so. Hm.. Instead, she rose her head with superior strength to press her mouth to his as if she sought to claim dominion of what she already possessed. She was purposefully careless in her assault. As she allowed those fangs snag anything that got close. His lips, their warring tongues all punctured from her razor-sharp fangs. She could taste herself upon him as his own mixed with hers in an intoxicating mixture.

He wanted to awaken her baser nature.. well she was well and truly awake. Her firm iron grip upon her 'hostage' lessened just so as she chased the urgency of that kiss just as needs of her body grew all the more persistent.