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He was close now, his testicles drawn up tight and hard. He released the couch and speared his fingers into my hair, holding my head still so he could fuck my mouth. His strokes sped up, grew more forceful, although he was careful not to go too deep.
It was so hot, having him control me. I slid my free hand between my legs to ease the ache. I sucked harder—greedy for his pleasure.
He came in my mouth with a drawn-out groan. I swallowed it down, then sat back, my hands on his long, strong thighs. Talon exhaled, eyes closed, relaxed as a conqueror. Then he took my face in his hands and kissed me on the lips.
“Apology accepted,” he said, drawing me to my feet.
I slanted him a cocky look. “My turn now, right? You promised.”
“Did I?”
Actually, he hadn’t. And my cockiness was faked.
But he had a small smile on his face as he turned me toward his bedroom. “Get in the bed.”
Like the living room, Talon’s bedroom was uncluttered, masculine. Walls the color of parchment, and other than the sleek leather-and-walnut bed, the only furniture was a pair of mid-century walnut nightstands and an espresso-colored leather chair. No books, no paintings, no knick-knacks. The only art was a sinuous, hammered-metal shark that covered most of one wall.
I went willingly but veered toward his bathroom as we entered the room, saying, “I need to clean up.”
And pee. Pregnant woman, here.
We took turns in the bathroom. When Talon came out, I was standing next to his massive bed, still in my panties and bra, not sure if I should lie down or not.
A few months ago, I would’ve crawled under the covers to wait for him, but things were different now. I wasn’t sure where we stood, how much to assume.
He strolled across the plank wood floor, fully erect again. Without speaking, he removed my bra, dropping it beside the bed.
My gaze moved over his face, my insides tight with a painful yearning.
His hands covered my breasts, weighing them, fingering the sensitive tips.
He slid a hand behind my back, bringing me against his naked body. His other hand curled around my nape, holding me still while he kissed me. Slow, hot kisses that left me dazed and breathing hard.
He released me long enough to draw back the silky blue coverlet, then pressed me down on the mattress so I was on my back looking up at him.
My panties were the next to come off. He knelt on the floor and put my feet on his shoulders, my knees bent and open wide. Grasping my hips, he pulled me toward him. Cool lips touched my inner leg an inch from my sex.
Anticipation hummed in my veins. He feathered his mouth down my thigh, teasing me with light licks and nips.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said against my skin. “I was going to make you wait at least a week, maybe longer.”
I dug my fingers into the sheets. “Please don’t.”
He lifted his head to look at me. “Please don’t make you wait?”
“Yeah. That.”
“Mm.” He ran his thumb down my slit. “You’re so wet.” His deep voice roughened. “You really do want this, don’t you?”
“Yes.” I rocked my pelvis up toward him, desperate for his touch.
He bared his fangs at me, then scraped them along my thigh. To my surprise, he broke the skin, drawing a few drops of blood.
My breath caught. “Are you going to feed from me?”
“Not until you’ve had the baby. It wouldn’t be good for you.”
“Oh.” I didn’t like to think of him drinking from other thralls, but his consideration made my chest constrict. These flashes of caring—of goodness, even if he probably wouldn’t see it that way—were why I’d fallen in love with him.
