It was a plea he could not deny. He slid his hands beneath herskirts and massaged her thighs above her stockings while dragging the tip of one fang along her throat. A fraction more pressure, and his saliva would render her boneless. He could fill his mouth with her blood and drink as much as he desired. It had been mere hours since Smith’s donation, but the craving burned in him as if it had been years. There was a flask waiting on the table next to his bed, but the mere thought of letting the thick, cold liquid slide down his throat filled him with revulsion.
One bite. That was all it would take. He ran his tongue over the part of her throat where her pulse beat the strongest. Things were going too fast. They had done little more than kiss, yet he was already considering penetrating her with his fingers, his cock, and his fangs. Preferably all three simultaneously.
His fingertips brushed coarse hair.
“Marcus, wait,” Winifred said.
He immediately withdrew his arm and searched her face for signs of distress. “Did I hurt you?” He hadn’t touched a woman so intimately in a very long time. Perhaps he had been too eager with his affection.
“No,” she said. “It is only that…” She closed her eyes. “My courses have arrived. So you might not wish to continue.”
A wave of heat rippled through his body. He lifted her skirts, ducked beneath, and breathed in a familiar metallic scent. His mouth watered. He spread her thighs apart with shaking hands, then moved a napkin attached to a belt out of his way. Fate had handed him a gift. There was no reason to resist. The offering was already seeping from her body like sap from a tree. All he had to do was lean forward and lap it up.
He brought his nose to her quim and inhaled. The musky scent of her arousal combined with the rich fragrance of blood made his cock spring to attention. There was nothing more appetizing than a woman’s monthlies. To a vampire, such abanquet was akin to a sugary treat—luxuriously decadent but lacking nutritional value. He could fill his stomach and be still famished an hour later.
He didn’t care.
“I want to continue,” he said. “Are you ready?”
She squeezed her thighs around his head. “Yes.”
He gently parted her curls with his tongue. The moment he came in contact with her essence, he moaned. It was even better than he remembered. He rasped every surface of her inner lips like a starving man licking his plate after finishing a meal. When there was nothing left, he spread her apart with his thumbs and channeled his blood to form a long, straw-like tongue that he slithered through the tightness of her sheath. He worried at first that it might cause her discomfort, but the way she writhed and pressed herself into his mouth chased those concerns away. He sucked until there was nothing left, then recalled his blood and focused his attention on her clitoris.
She grasped his shoulders. “Oh!”
Her rapid pulse and soft gasps told him she was close. He continued at the same pace and pressure until she came apart, then slowed until she stopped shuddering.
“That was… marvelous,” she whispered as he exited her skirts.
He pressed a firm kiss to her cheek. “That is only the start. There is much more for you to learn.”
And he couldn’t wait to teach her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“He won’t mind,”Winifred said as she stood outside her husband’s bedchamber with her fist hovering in the air. After reluctantly leaving Marcus to rest the previous night, she’d returned several times but couldn’t seem to gather the courage to knock. Which was absurd, given he’d clearly expressed a desire for them to continue what they’d started.
She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on his door. She was eager to resume their activities, but more than that, she wanted his company. The castle was lonelier than she’d realized, and Marcus slept at the most unusual times. She had been married for mere weeks, but the life she’d imagined after she’d accepted his proposal had been nothing like reality.
Her research would have to be enough. She turned around and walked back to the library. When she arrived and sat down at the same table as she had the previous afternoon, there was an envelope waiting atop the stack of books. She squealed as she tore it open.
Dearest Winifred,
Anastasia delivered your most clever letter. Please understand how much I regret not standing up on your behalf, although I am glad to hear you are getting along well with the earl. When I come of age, it would be my pleasure to become your companion.
As to news, there is not much to tell. Our uncle is eager to see me wed, but I have yet to find a man who I feel would make an appropriate husband. Most of the men Uncle Ethan introduces are terrible bores.
Please write again soon so that I know you received this.
Sincerely,
Felicity
Winifred felt a combination of bubbling happiness for her friend’s success and a churning in her gut for Felicity’s difficulty with their uncle. Uncle Ethan obviously wanted his ward married and out of his house. If that happened, Winifred wasn’t sure if it would be easier or harder to contact her cousin.
She grabbed a sheet of paper and began compiling her response, in which she mentioned her new avenue of occult research. That would be sure to excite Felicity. She finished her letter, sealed it, then gave it to a maid. When the young maid had vanished with her letter and a promise to have it mailed as soon as possible, Winifred leaned back in her chair and looked out the window.
The sun was not quite below the horizon. According to Marcus’s nocturnal schedule that she was still not accustomed to, he would be awakening soon, and she had many things she wanted to discuss. She could have waited for him to find her, but she was too restless to sit back and watch the minute hand on the clock on her mantel tick past. She rose out of her chair and walked as quickly as she could into the hallway and then to his room, even though she internally quaked.
