Seamus finally opened his eyes after what felt like an eternity of sex. His length had gone soft, his balls utterly drained.
He had been milked by two gorgeous women until there was nothing left in him, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he could die in peace.
Almost.
His fragile bliss was broken by Isolde's voice. "Oh? Awake already?"
He jolted upright, blinking toward the table near the window. Isolde sat there, fingers tapping across a keyboard, the rhythmic clicks filling the room. She was working.
"Huh? Even vampires work?"
She chuckled, taking a slow sip of coffee. "Do you think this wealth comes from money trees?"
"I figured you'd have some kind of alchemy trick. You know, making gold out of nothing?" He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Oh, Seamus, that's just a dream for the unemployed," she teased, swiveling her chair toward him.
"Nothing is free in this world. Even the clean air you breathe is a privilege bought by wealth."
