Page 128 of Revenant

“One day you’re going to have to tell me what it is you’re saying.”

“I’ll think about it.” His mouth curves into something downright sinful, lips slick, eyes black and fixed on mine. “Until then, hold still.”

A laugh escapes me, but it quickly turns into a strangled moan when his fingers return, pushing back into me as his tongue works in slow, devastating circles. My legs close around his head instinctively as I rock into him, but his free hand spreads flat over my hipbone, pinning me in place with an ease that reminds me exactly how much stronger than me he is. I can’t move. I can only take what he gives me, and the helplessness of it makes me wetter.

The sting of his fangs breaking skin hits the inside of my thigh, and it twists into a blissful pressure as he drinks, the pull of his mouth matching the rhythm of his fingers as he angles them to hit the exact spot that turns my body to jelly. The sensation is almost too much, the deep relentless pressure inside me, the way every pull of his mouth seems to draw my pleasure higher.

“Oh shit, Pryce,” I say, switching my grip from the counter to his hair, fingers twisting in the dark strands.

“Watch,” he says.

“What?” I pant, hardly able to speak.

“Watch, tesoro. Look down. Look at me.”

I peer down and see the smear of red across his lower lip, the wet shine of it dripping to his chin. He drags his tongue up, eyes rolling into the back of his head, savoring the taste of me. The intensity builds and builds with nowhere to go. My thighs tremble around him, then I feel myself splinter. My body shatters as euphoria washes through me in waves, turning me into a twitching mess. He drinks me through all of it, a low groan vibrating from his chest as I watch his throat work as he swallows every last drop.

When he finally lifts his head, his mouth is stained, his eyes molten as he licks the last of me from his lips with a deliberate sweep of his tongue that makes my body clench all over again.

As he stands, I watch him unbuckle his belt with lazy ease, letting his trousers drop before he pulls his shirt over his head, leaving him completely bare. There’s no urgency to his movements, just the certainty of a man who knows he already has everything he wants. Hauling me off the counter, Pryce spins me to face the mirror, pressing a hand to my back until I’m bent over.

He spits into his hand, and I shiver, watching him work the saliva over his length; my reflection wide-eyed and flushed in the glass. I can feel his gaze moving over me, taking in every inch of my body as he swirls his thumb over the head of his cock—the weight of his attention almost as overwhelming as his touch. It’s intoxicating, being looked at like this, like I’m something he wants to devour.

“Christ, you’re so fucking gorgeous like this,” he rasps.

“Fuck me,” I whimper, pressing closer.

His hands slide down my sides and take hold of my ass, squeezing and working the flesh before he parts me, baring me completely. “Cristo, baby, sei mia,” he breathes, spitting again and easing forward, barely breaching my center before thrusting into the hilt. The sudden stretch punches the air from my lungs, my fingers scrambling to steady myself against the sleek marble.

Gripping my hips, he sets a punishing pace, until every thrust wrings a cry from me and I can’t string a coherent thought together. He wraps his hand around my neck and pulls me to him, my spine against his chest, his free hand working my breast, the force growing with each flip of my stomach. I can feel his fangs graze the curve of my shoulder, and I tip my head to give him access—wanting it, wanting all of him.

“So tight. You’re aching to fall apart for me, aren’t you, tesoro?”

Our eyes lock in the mirror, his gaze dark and possessive. “Yes.” I moan through pants. “Yes. Yes…Please.”

“That’s it.” He growls, his pace turning ragged, his control finally fraying. “I want my cum spilling out of you. I’m going to leave you dripping, so you don’t forget who you belong to all day.” His grip on my throat tightens just enough to make my head swim. He tips his head to the sky, pumping harder, deeper, chasing his release with me.

I barely get out another plea before another climax crashes over me—at the same moment, his fangs sink into my shoulder, and I feel him break, his groan rough against my skin as he spills into me, his grip locking me to him as I collapse into his hold. The pleasure doubles back on itself, white hot and endless, his arms the only thing keeping me upright.

“Sono perduto in te,” he whispers. “Lo capisci, vero? Sono perduto.”

“I don’t speak Italian, Pryce.”

“I know,” he says with a wolfish grin.

He pulls out of me slowly, careful of every place I’m now sore, and sets me on the small upholstered bench along the far wall. He runs hot water and finds a clean cloth, kneeling in front of me as he cleans the blood off my thighs, the inside of my knee, and the soft place along my neck. When he’s done, he wraps me in a fresh towel and leaves me to find a change of clothes in his walk-in closet.

“I should find Moriah.”

“Today?” he calls from the bedroom.

“Today. I’ve been a shit friend, Pryce.”

“Well, you’ve had a few things on your plate.”

“She basically went to war with her pack—her family—to protect me. Don’t you dare give me an excuse.”

“I’m not, but let’s just say she had her reasons too.”