He Lies Beneath by Marissa Farrar - February Femmes Fatales

So wonderful to be able to welcome such a talented author as Marissa Farrar back to February Femmes Fatales. I'm not the only one to have read the first in her Serenity series ALONE - a powerful vampire paranormal romance - this year. The sequel, BURIED is smouldering away on my Kindle waiting to be read.

I urge readers to visit Marissa's blog to discover her work; I can assure you - you won't be disappointed. He Lies Beneath is proof of that.

HE LIES BENEATH

Image (c) Marissa Farrar

The warmth of his steady breath attracted her. Like smoke, she dissipated and slipped through the open crack of his window. Inside, she reformed in her feminine guise; eyes so large and black, should any man wake to see her, he’d glimpse only holes in her head.

She hovered above this one and smiled with pleasure. Still young, perhaps only in his late twenties, he slept on his back, a white sheet draped across his narrow waist. His well-defined arms rested either side of his head, his lips parted. Long, dark eyelashes lay upon his cheek and stubble shadowed his cut jaw.

“Aaah...” she sighed, her breath frosting the night air. The sight of his naked torso pleased her and a shiver of excitement trembled through her form.

She dipped lower and pressed her cold, pale lips against his. His head twisted slightly, sensing her. She kissed him, insistent and, even in sleep, he responded. Her black, pointed tongue flicked into his mouth, dancing, tracing the inside of his lips and teeth. His lips moved against hers and she tasted the faint hint of mint.

Suspended above him, she moved from his mouth, planting feather-light kisses across his jaw and down his neck. His pulse beat steadily just beneath the delicate skin of his throat. The warm scent of copper filled her nostrils, but it wasn’t blood she was after.

Her lips worked down his body, stopping at the tight buds of his nipples to grate her teeth over the erect, sensitive flesh. Her slick, black tongue laved the peak in lascivious circles.

The beautiful man squirmed beneath her and lower down she felt him begin to rise, tenting the sheet.

Focusing her energy, she willed the offending material away. It slid from his body and dropped to the floor beside the bed. His naked body exposed, she slid her fingers down to circle his expanding girth. She squeezed him tight, eliciting a moan.

The blood-tipped nails of her other hand scratched down his chest and across the ridges of his abdominals, leaving five red lines in their wake. His head thrashed from side to side, his lips moving, muttering in his sleep.

He grew hard beneath her caresses and the response made her smile; a wicked expression. Her long, slim fingers worked his length and he uttered a groan. Moving lower still, she brushed her cheek against his manhood, like a cat nudging an owner’s leg. His skin felt like silk and she marvelled at the combination of hard and soft. Holding him at his base, she brushed her lips against him, sneaking out her tongue to leave a trail of wet saliva along his length.

She took him between her lips, stretching her jaw to accommodate his size. She tasted musk, his scent filling her senses. She swirled her blackened tongue over the head, drinking in the salty droplet she found there.

Closing her lips around him, she bobbed lower. He swelled in her mouth as she moved up and down, keeping a regular pace, her tongue swirling across his smooth skin.

His eyes shot open and in the dim moonlight filtering between the curtains, he caught sight of her. She knew her high cheekbones appeared skeletal, her eyes gaping holes, her skin white. His mouth stretched in a scream, but even as he shrieked, his hips jerked. Hot seed spilled down her throat and she sucked and swallowed, draining him dry. He cried out with both the force of his orgasm and the horror of what he’d woken to. But despite his turmoil, he couldn’t run; her dark magic kept him pinned to the bed.

Overwhelmed, his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell slack against the mattress.

She lifted her head and licked her lips.

In the morning he would only remember a dream of contrasts—of pleasure and pain, of terror and lust. Exhausted, he’d blame the nightmare, and in some ways he’d be right. Though it wouldn’t be the lack of sleep that had affected him but the energy she’d stolen.

Perhaps she would return to this one. She moved up his body and stroked his cheek. He flinched in his sleep. Yes, he pleased her. His restless nights and exhausted days would continue...

_________ The End _________

Bio: Marissa Farrar was born in Devon, England, where she now resides with her husband and two children. She is the author of the dark vampire novels, The Serenity Series, and several stand-alone horror and fantasy books.

If you want to know more about Marissa, please visit her facebook page, https://www.facebook.com/marissa.farrar.author