The faint sting of penetration was her last moment of discomfort. After he bit into her wrist, there was only the sweep of his own soft tongue and the way each suck and swallow felt like he was drawing directly on her clit. There was only dizzy heat and the glide of a knowing hand up her spine and their fingers clasped tightly together.
He was everywhere, and he was everything. The fire that scalded her flesh and the chill soothing her burn. The pitiless, grinding rhythm pushing her toward pleasure and the slide of gentle fingers in her hair. The smell of copper, the tang of sex, and the waft of lavender from the shampoo they’d both used. Quiet suckling and his sharp, loud inhalation against her skin when she cupped her own breast and pinched her nipple and made a lost,raw sound deep in her throat. Salt on her tongue as she licked his neck and the sweetness of his hand in hers.
It didn’t take long. The glow of heat between her legs expanded and exploded, and she rubbed her clit against his dick frantically, shamelessly, gasping as the tension and need fractured into shuddering hitches of pleasure.
His hand was on her ass again, still sliding her against his cock, while she panted and twitched and trembled. Her head tipped back, and she basked in all the pleasure he brought her, all the pleasure she’d claimed for herself.
When the pulses slowed at last, she slumped on his lap, damp with sweat.
“Holy gods and goddesses,” she rasped.
With one final lick, he raised his mouth from her wrist. The two small wounds left by his teeth didn’t even bleed, as far as she could tell. He brought their clasped hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles, and she could feel his smile against her fingers.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
His dick was a steel bar between her legs, which couldn’t be comfortable for him. Despite her boneless state, she maneuvered herself a few crucial inches to the side, reached down into his boxers, and gripped him in her free hand, squeezing tightly. He grunted at her first stroke and groaned after her second and orgasmed with her third.
His body formed a gorgeous arch beneath hers, and he came with every muscle locked into place, trembling and taut. He didn’t seem to breathe for a few seconds, before he began dragging in desperate gasps of air like someone who’d been deprived of oxygen for far too long.
After a long while, he sagged against the sofa cushions. Then,lurching forward, he sealed their mouths together. She swallowed down the purr of his lingering pleasure and licked her own blood from his tongue. Did it taste metallic to him too? Or was it salty? Sweet?
His release was slick and cool against her fingers, almost silky, and when he cupped her between her legs and stroked gently over the cotton, her body contracted in pleasure one final time.
He made a sort of pleased hum, his thumb passing lightly over her clit.
She wished she could see his expression through the darkness. Wished she could read his mind and know whether thisintensitywas normal during his feedings and sexual encounters. Whether it was about his being a vampire, or about…them. Max and Edie. The two of them, specifically, rather than a predator who’d learned to please his prey and enjoy himself in the process.
After a minute, she broke their kiss and wiped her palm on his underwear, because silkiness was rapidly becoming stickiness.
There was a meditative silence, and she could almost feel his eyes on her again. After a few moments, he let go of her hand, and she heard the faint pop of lips against skin.
She felt nothing. So whom or what was he kissing?
Befuddled, she squinted in the darkness, trying to figure out what in the world he was doing. Then he lightly pressed a fingertip against her wrist, on the exact spot where she’d urged his teeth into her veins. His movement was deliberate and precise, his touch whisper-soft.
Suddenly, she understood.
Using that fingertip, he was kissing her wound and making itbetter. Just as her mother always had. Just as Edie had once done for him.
Her eyes prickled, and she exhaled shakily as he interlaced his fingers through hers once more. After a moment, he slid his palm from between her legs and claimed her other hand too.
“You made me come in my velour boxers.” He sighed. “It’s not especially comfortable.”
She snorted. “If you’re waiting for an apology—”
“No, no. Merely requesting that the next time you make me lose control, you do so while ma bite is inside you, entirely uncovered, or at least encased in a breathable fabric.”
Her laugh echoed in the near-empty space, and she squeezed his hands, suddenly inspired. “No…one…comes like Gaston—”
“Human. This is neither the time nor the—”
“—spurts on bums like Gaston. In his—”
“I didnotspurt on my own ass. Just because some of it ended up back there—”
“—boxer shorts, no one—”
“Godsdammit, Edie.”
