Page 75 of The Temptation of Roan Island

I want to keep teasing, but she needs me, and I can’t deny her. With the sharp tip of my claw, I rend the seam of her bloomers, opening a perfect window to my desire. It’s dark under her skirts, but with my Mavarri eyesight I can see each dewy curl of hair and her plump, swollen lips.

I spread the fabric of her bloomers wider and drag one finger through her soft center. She’s dripping for me.

“Maiah,” she whimpers. “Hurry.”

Apparently, my impatient wife likes the thrill of potentially getting caught. Perhaps I should drag this out after all. I grin as I remove my hand from her and scrape my nails lightly up and down the outside of her thigh.

My sweet little Pippa presses the back of my head, shoving my face against her and eliciting a surprised laugh from me.

“Alright.” I kiss her mound, breath stirring the soft hairs. “I get the idea.”

Adjusting her right leg over my shoulder, I open her wide. She wobbles, but I press my hand to her hip. Once she’s steady, I glide my hands around her backside to knead the flesh of her thigh and hold her against me as I lap her center. She tastes so fucking good, the musk of her arousal a perfect complement to the sweet lemon tartness of her natural essence. I can’t contain my growl.

Her body trembles, she pants, her fingers biting my neck, and her taste shifts, the sweetest fucking heaven. My fangs ache to bite into the soft flesh of her mound to drink her blood along with her arousal, but I hold myself back, squeezing her ass hard to control myself, my claws unsheathed like my fangs. I don’t want our first time together to be diluted by venom. When I sink my cock into her, I want her to be clear-headed, to feel every inch, to remember every second.

Keeping my licks steady, I retract my claw and push one finger inside her, applying firm pressure on her upper wall. She squirms, whimpering in a way that nearly undoes me. Her right leg tenses, pushing against the side of my head as if she’s trying to squeeze her legs together. Her insides clench so hard around my finger I feel it around my cock. With a sharp gasp, she gushes into my mouth. I’m more than satisfied with the feast before me, even better than her blood. I could happily live off of Pippa’s arousal.

I slow my attentive licks, savoring her as she goes limp and sinks against the wall. Satisfied pride swells my chest. I lower her leg back to the ground and remove myself from her skirts, standing as I swipe a hand across my face.

Her eyes are closed, and she looks completely satisfied, content, satiated.

I press myself against her and kiss behind her ear. “Is that what you wanted, wife?”

“Mmhmm,” she mumbles, nearly incoherent. “Exactly.”

I smile against her skin, then scoop her into my arms.

She’s not startled or surprised, no doubt used to how often I carry her. For months I told myself it was just because she was weak and needed the help. But I recognize now I just like having her in my arms. It feels right.

Pippa draws little shapes over my chest as I walk, circling the buttons on my shirt, tugging at my cravat, loosening it. Her eyes are still closed, her movements languid, almost as if she’s unconscious she’s doing them.

As much as I want to bury myself inside her, she should rest. I sigh and kiss her cheek. Tomorrow, then.

It takes a little maneuvering to keep her in my arms while I unlock our room, which makes Pippa open her eyes and giggle. “You can put me down.”

“I don’t want to.”

That earns me a wide smile.

Once in the room, I reluctantly set her on the bed.

“Join me?” She runs her palms down my chest.

“Give me a moment.” I move to my knees again to untie the laces on her little heeled boots. “Let me take care of you.”

Pippa lays back with a yawn, and I’m reminded of a contented cat. She lets me remove her shoes, pointing her toes with a cute little laugh.

“I could get used to this,” she says.

“I want you to.” The stark truth of the statement hits me right in the chest. After what she’s been through, I want to show her how she deserves to be loved. I want to protect her, cherish her, take care of her, and lavish her with my affection.

Slowly, I push her dress up her thighs. Pippa lifts her head. I meet her gaze and unclip her stockings, then roll one down over her knee, setting her foot on my shoulder as I do. Pulling the silky fabric from her feet, I unceremoniously drop it on the floor, then run my palm over her bare skin, relishing her shudder and every pleasurable sigh before I take care of the second stocking. Though undressing her like this doesn’t have the same tension it would have if I knew it was leading to sex, there’s an intimacy to the act that feels erotic in its own way.

After kissing the inside of her knee, I remove her feet from my shoulders. She lets out a little moan when I take her torn bloomers and the garter belt at her waist and ease them down her legs. The urge to eat her again has me swallowing and licking my lips to remind myself of the lingering taste.

Putting distance between me and temptation, I stand and stare down at her. She’s beautiful with her bare legs spread and dress bunched at her waist. So relaxed, so content, so vulnerable. I want to hold on to this image of her forever.

“Roll over,” I say, voice thick.