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“Do it again,” I tell him.
His brows raise in surprise, but there’s no hesitation after that. He attacks my other breast with his mouth, biting down, sucking at my skin.
“Fuck,” I cry out, my head going back. His teeth pierce the skin, but it’s a surface scratch more than anything and, like before, he’s licking the pain away with his broad, rough tongue. I make a fist in his black satin sheets, lost to the pleasure and pain, an intricate dance that only makes me want more.
Then he brings his mouth up to mine. I taste the tang of my own blood, just a bit of it, then he’s sinking his tongue deep inside until I’m melting further and further into the bed, succumbing to his kiss, body and soul.
I had no idea it would be like this. That it could be like this.
He pulls away, my lips open, tingling and yearning for him to return, my hand running through his thick, silky hair, marveling at it, that I can touch him this way, every way.
Slowly, with deliberation, he starts moving back over my collarbones, over my breasts, over my abdomen, placing wet, languid kisses as he moves down, a path that sets my skin on fire.
He stares up at me as he goes and I look into his eyes and in them I see a man caught between angel and beast, and maybe that’s what a vampire is. All I know is that right now, perhaps in this moment only, he adores me, reveres me.
I am his.
And I am safe.
Then his gaze burns hot as he grips the waistband of my leggings and underwear, peeling them off me with smooth precision, down over my hips, my thighs, my knees, discarding them to the floor, my feet already bare.
The sight of his face, that gorgeous, dangerous, perfect face between my legs makes my whole body start to tremble, waiting for him, wanting him, needing him. Bursts of hunger lash through me, and I’m not sure how patient I can be.
Meanwhile, for all his talk of not being gentle, he’s acting like he has all the time in the world. Maybe because he does.
He comes up between me, my legs parting for him, his large hands spanning the width of my thighs, showcasing how large they are. I’m not a delicate flower, but in his grip I feel like I am.
Long, slow kisses are placed inside my knees, up my inner thighs, his stubble scratching me, and I’m gasping again, the blood rushing too fast through my veins.
“I need you inside of me.” I’m practically whimpering, trapping him between my legs.
“This isn’t for you,” he says as he slides up, eyes never leaving mine, even with his face between my thighs. “This is for me.”
I close my eyes and inhale sharply, my nerves on high alert. He brings his mouth up to my pussy, pausing there. I can feel the cold of his presence, his breath, but he’s not touching me.
Holy fuck, what are you doing? I think.
Taking my time, he says inside my head, his voice so low and rich it settles into the base of my skull and unravels me a little more. Don’t forget who’s in charge here.
I grin at that, almost laughing, my heart leaping in my chest, my thighs gripping the sides of his head, as my hands make fists in his hair.
But he’s still taking his fucking time. He’s just breathing on me, blowing on me, and fuck, fuck, fuck.
I’m close to coming already.
This isn’t fair.
He isn’t even touching me this time.
Then he angles his head so his cold breath spans the length of me, sending waves through my skin, making me shudder, making that ache reach the breaking point.
Holy god.
Swiftly, he covers my clit with his mouth and I yelp, unintelligible sounds falling from my gaping mouth and he’s licking me, sucking me and fucking hell, I’m coming already.
“Shit!” I cry out, yanking at his hair. I’m bucking my hips against his mouth while the rest of me is blown glass, shattering. A million jeweled pieces thrown into the universe.
He devours me, literally, as my body quakes, shaking the bed, his hands gripping my thighs, keeping them spread until I’m spent.
