Flesh - supple under graceful, but cold touch - affixed within the folds of satin sheets, that slip-over as smooth as water to a shingled roof. Her pale skin, caressed as a flower's petal in summer's heists - quivering, sharp taking of breath from lips the color of a thorned rose, as the ghostly woman seals kisses down her slender neck. The fireplace crackles with hushed, sultry laughter, the shutters swaying with the passing breeze of the chilled night; the fountain in the courtyard of the Parisen Lord that of a hymn to the chorus of pleasurable cries of the young Lady. Beyond that - over vine covered walls - the guards on the back of horses galloping onward to duties. The alarm charms of bells - someone had broken into the vault of the noble family that have long been departed. Surely by now the captain had gone summoning the Lord to inform him of the egregious trespass. No doubt, Lord Du de la Fontaine has stormed to the scene - caution cast to the high winds.
All well and fine, the Vampire thinks, slim of hand weaving under cotton garment of her Lady, as long as none dared to intrude upon our time. The woman will not stand for any interruptions - grave hand following the rise and fall of deep-of-curved hip that squirm at the slightest of touch. Light as a feather, the Vampire's cold kiss. Silken nightgown she takes to undoing, pulling with a taut downward pull, straining the stitchwork and giving cause to tearing at the shoulders' seams. The Lady's breasts, freed from the garment, are full and round as the moon's face and the Vampire takes one in hand, mindful of her long black nails. She fondles, weighted, yet moving with such ease, while her Lady laid flushed on backside, blond of hair curtaining the sheets.
The Vampire takes tip of onyx claw and brushes over exposed nipple, and she feels it harden beneath thumb. It grew ever hot, the longer she toyed with it, her Ladyship's arms draping around thin shoulders, tilting head back to reveal to that cold one her arcing neck. The Vampire presses lips of death there upon skin of the living, her fang's taking flight over tender flesh, till taking supple bosom in mouth. Sensitive as it was already, the lathering of her tongue perks the dusty-rose noble one up, the small of her back arching, her leg rising in tandem, as the Lady moans.
The Vampire's hand slips under to support that risen back, the other ghosting over thigh before, too, taking it up. She keeps that thigh pressed to her own hipbone, feels the shivers of anticipation pulsing, pairing with musical pleasures as tongue slip atop and wrap-around breast's crown. Only now and then would the Vampire glance to see her Lady's expression - excitement and scented with agonizing ecstasy - a face that shades with a fine pinkness and sweating with exertion from all her writhing. The free breast is left to roll in circles, skin on skin - a medley of dull slaps before the cold one released the plump bust suddenly.
Her Lady grasp had been a weak one, arms falling away from the Vampire's neck, her hands, instead, coming to rest on that of her own chest. Brown eyes - mouth still parted as breath returned to her - meet that of silver ones, black of hair that falls in wild waves and curls, across bedding, and, at last, snaking along the stone floors.
A snare befitting that of the untamable woodland's underbrush.