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And, finally, finally, the scent of her arousal began to fill the air.
Because he’d never take her when she didn’t want him.
His fingers slipped between her parted thighs. Found her hot core. Eased into her.
This was what he wanted.
Her eyes turned to black.
He kissed path down her stomach.
“Simon…”
He’d always liked the way she said his name, especially when she wanted him. That hitch, the hungry way the end of his name sounded like a moan on her lips.
He put his mouth against her sex. Tasted and took and savored her. Her hips arched against him, a helpless jerk of her body. His tongue slipped over her clit. Her gasp filled his ears.
When her fingers sank into his hair, he knew she wanted more. Wanted harder. Faster.
Wanted to come.
“Not yet,” he said the words against her sex and she shuddered. The pleasure wouldn’t be fleeting. Not for either of them. It was time she learned that.
His mouth and fingers took her. A frenzy of need. Desire that couldn’t be contained. Licking. Kissing. Touching.
A moan broke from her.
His tongue drove into her and her legs shook. He wanted more.
“Simon, I’m going to come!”
No. Not yet.
He eased back and his fingers worked her clit. Drawing out the release. Making the desire build with fast strokes of his fingers.
The need for her was so fierce he ached.
Bite.
The bloodlust was there, as it always was, because he didn’t just want her body. He wanted her blood. Her heart.
Everything.
And he would have it.
She twisted against the sheets. The water had dried from her skin, and her breasts thrust up against him.
So pretty. So perfect.
He caught her nipple with his mouth. Sucked deep and hard.
She squirmed beneath him.
Not about forgetting any longer. This moment was about them.
She’d remember that.
One last lick, and he lifted his head. Her eyes had gone blind with need and black with desire.
