I cup the back of his head and bury my fingers in his hair, bringing my nose to the crook of his neck, to the skin under his ear. I feel him growing hard against me.
“More.”
He shifts the fabric and suddenly I feel the heat of his tongue on me. Tracing the swell of my breast, then circling my nipple. A gasp lodges itself in my throat. I tighten my hold on Orfeo. We move together and there he is, between my thighs. He sucks and nibbles and pulls, patient hands holding me still beneath him as I tremble. He flicks open the buttons of my shirt and we push the fabric away.
“May I?” he rasps, hands roaming lower until his fingertips graze my belly button.
“May you what?” My voice is a breathy whisper.
He must be searching for the hem of my underwear. Instead, he finds nothing but my damp pubic hair. Orfeo’s touch stalls.
“Fuck,” he whispers. And then, almost reverently, he slides his hand down to part my thighs. Every inch of my skin thrums, taut with desire, and when his thumb finds my pulse, I nearly snap from the jolt of blinding pleasure. My back arches, my toes curl. My head falls back as a moan pulls from me, and I reach for his other hand, the one still gently massaging my breast.
“Don’t stop,” I pant. “Pleasedon’t stop.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I hear the smirk in his voice, and I don’t care.
His touch is confident, deliberate. It doesn’t matter how breathless I become, how much I squirm. He moves the pads of his fingers up from my pulse point to tease my heat, dipping inside me before disappearing again. His mouth flows over me like water, lips in my hairline then on my neck. Tracing the tight peak of my nipples. I chase every sensation, try to commit it to memory.
“Bite me,” I whisper, desperate and whiny, nipping at his shoulders. “Pleasejust bite me.”
I swear I hear him swallow. “Not yet,amore.”
“Please,” I beg, lifting my hips to meet his touch. “Please.”
“You must be patient.” He keeps his thumb pressed to the throb of my pulse in my thigh as his lips find mine. It’s a gentle kiss that turns ravenous, until his fingers are buried inside of me, rough and confident and persistent. That shooting star of bliss is back, and all I want is to feel his teeth breaking into my flesh. I want to feel his lips close around the wound. And I want to feel him drinking from me as I come.
I cry out as an orgasm tears through me, breaks me open, fractures me into a thousand pieces of starlight. My entire body tenses and lifts off the bed.
I don’t let him move from between my thighs. I push aside the elastic of his pants. We’re a tumbling mess of limbs and open-mouth kisses, his tongue dragging up and down the column of my throat. He switches on a light and I revel in the sight of his body. The gentle definition of his chest; the way his tattoos fade into his tanned forearms.
“Do vampires need to use condoms?”
Orfeo snorts. “Silly question. I’m a dead man.” He threads his fingers in my hair and pulls my mouth back to his. I drag my nails down his chest, and when I find his erection, the memoryof my sex dream flashes back into my mind. He had felt the same then, between my hands.
Orfeo tenses at my touch and then melts into the rhythm of my hands, a groan snagging in his throat.
“Brava,” he whispers through clenched teeth. “Come sei brava.”He covers my hands in his and encourages a harder, faster pace. When I can’t resist anymore, I push him over onto his back and take him in my mouth.
Is it possible that it wasn’t a dream?
Orfeo bites back a moan, cupping my head in his hands, gathering my hair roughly. “This,” he growls. “This is what I dreamed of.”
Just a sweet nothing, probably.I push the possibility that Orfeo and I had been fucking each other in the Dream Place out of my mind and focus on tasting him. I turn greedy for him, undone by the fierce glow of his eyes.
Eventually, he eases out of my mouth and kisses me sweetly, pressing me backward onto the bed as he positions himself between my thighs. His hands sweep a path over my breasts, my stomach, and my thighs. He hooks his hands behind my knees and opens me to him. A delicious noise works its way from him—half growl, half moan.
“You are so wet,” he whispers, fangs flashing, “just at the idea of my bite.”
I nod, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip.
“But if I do?—”
“I already know, Orfeo.” I push myself up onto my elbows. “And I don’t care, I want it?—”
“Let me finish.” He cups my cheek. “If I bite you, everything will change. More than you can ever imagine. What I feel for you now, it will quadruple. And when I pledge myself to you, I cannot promise I will not become possessive. I am not a human man. This love between us will never be human.”
Love.The word burns through me. “Good. Fuck that. I don’t want that.”
