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"I just want to taste you so damned much."
Her thighs relaxed a little. "Go... slowly?"
Holy shit, she was going to let him? He started to tremble. "I will, baby. And I'm going to make you feel good. I promise."
He shifted farther down the mattress, staying to the side of her so she didn't feel crowded. As he got closer to her core, his body whacked out on him even more and the small of his back got tight, just like it did right before he had an orgasm.
Man, he was so going to have to go slow. For the both of them.
"I love your scent, Marissa." He kissed her belly button, then her hip, going downward inch by creamy inch. Lower... lower... until he finally pressed his closed mouth to the top of her cleft.
Which was great for him. The problem was she went totally rigid. And jumped as he laid his hand on her outer thigh.
He moved back up a little and rubbed his lips back and forth on her stomach. "I'm so lucky."
"W-why?"
"How would you feel if someone trusted you like this? Trusted you with such a private thing?" He blew into her belly button, and she laughed a little as if the warm air tickled. "You honor me, you know that? You really do."
He soothed her out with words and leisurely kisses that lingered a little longer and went a little lower each time. When she was ready, he swept his hand down the inside of her leg, clasped the back of her knee and gently separated her just a couple of inches for himself. He kissed her slit softly, again and again. Until the tension eased out of her.
Then he lowered his chin, opened his mouth, and licked her. She gasped and sat up.
"Butch... ?" As if she were checking to make sure he knew what he'd done.
"Didn't I tell you?" He bent down and lightly traced up her pink flesh with his tongue. "This is all about French kissing, baby."
As he repeated the slow sweeps, her head fell back, and the tips of her br**sts rose as her spine curled. Perfect. Just where he wanted her to be. Not worried about modesty or anything like that, just enjoying the feel of someone loving her like she deserved.
With a smile, he kept going, gradually dragging deeper and deeper until he got a real honest-to-God taste of her.
His eyes rolled back in his head as he swallowed. She was like nothing he'd ever pulled down his throat. The ocean and ripe melon and honey all together, a cocktail that made him want to weep from the perfection of it. More... he needed more. But goddamn, he had to put a choke hold on himself before he could keep going. He wanted to feast on her, and she wasn't ready for that kind of gluttony.
As he took a little breather, she tilted her head up. "Is it over?"
"Not by a long shot." Man, he loved that glassy, sexed-up look in her eyes. "Why don't you lie back and let me do my thing. We're just getting started here."
As she relaxed a little, he looked down at her secrets, seeing the high gloss on the tender flesh, thinking there was going to be a whole more of that shine when he was through. He kissed her again, then lollipopped her, flattening his tongue out and trolling up nice and lazylike. Then he swept his mouth from side to side, nuzzling in farther, hearing her moan. With gentle pressure, he opened her thighs more and latched on to her, drawing on her core in a rhythmic sucking.
When she started to thrash, a buzzing lit off in his head, the shrill warning a Danger, Will Robinson from the civilized part of him that things were about to go meteoric. But he couldn't quit, especially as she grabbed onto the sheets and arched up like she was going to come at any second.
"Feel good?" He tickled the top of her cleft, flicking over the most sensitive part. "You like this? You like me tonguing you? Or maybe you like this..." He sucked her into his mouth and she cried out. "Oh, yeah... God, my lips are covered with you... feel them, feel me..."
He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, moving her fingers back and forth, then licking them clean. She watched him with wide eyes, panting, ni**les tight. He was pushing her hard and he knew it, but she was right there with him.
He bit her palm. "Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me."
"I..." Her body undulated on the bed.
"Tell me you want me." He nailed her harder with his teeth. Shit, he wasn't sure why he needed to hear it from her so badly, but he did. "Say it."
"I want you," she gasped.
From out of nowhere, a dangerous, greedy lust slapped hold of him and his control shattered. With a dark sound that came from his gut, he clamped his hands on the insides of her thighs, split her wide and literally dove between her legs. As he fell upon her flesh, penetrating her with his tongue, finding a rhythm with his jaw, he was dimly aware of some kind of noise in the room, a growling.
Him? Couldn't be. That was the sound of... an animal.
Marissa had been shocked by the act at first. The carnality of it. The sinful closeness, the scary vulnerability. But soon none of that mattered. Butch's warm tongue was so erotic she could hardly bear the slick, slippery sensation of it - and couldn't stand the idea that he'd ever stop what he was doing, either. Then he started sucking on her, sucking and swallowing and saying things that made her sex swell until the pleasure stung like pain.
But all that was nothing compared to when he let loose. With a surge of male need, his heavy hands held her down, his mouth, his tongue, his face going all over her... God, that sound coming out of him, that throaty, pumping purr...
She orgasmed wildly, the most shattering, beautiful thing she'd ever felt, her body arching into the liquid flashes of pleasure -
Except at the crest, the seething energy shifted, transformed, detonated.
Bloodlust roared along the sexual current between them, then pulled her down into a spiral of starvation. Hunger ripped through her civilized nature, shredding everything but the need to go for his neck, and she bared her fangs, ready to flip him over onto his back and strike at his jugular and drink hard -
She was going to kill him.
She cried out and struggled against his hold. "Oh, God... no!"
"What?"
Shoving at Butch's shoulders, she hauled her body away from him, shooting off the side of the bed and falling to the floor. As he reached for her in confusion, she scrambled across the rug to the far corner, her dress dragging behind, the top hanging from her waist. When there was no farther to go, she curled into a ball and held herself in place. As her body shook uncontrollably, the pain in her belly hit in waves, redoubling each time it returned.
Butch came after her, panicked. "Marissa ... ?"
"No!"
He hauled up short. His face was stricken, all the color run out of his skin. "I'm so sorry - dear God - "
"You've got to go." As tears came up her throat, her voice went guttural.
"Sweet Jesus, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to scare you..."
She tried to control her breathing so she could reassure him, but lost the fight: She was panting, crying. Her fangs throbbed. Her throat was dry. And all she could think of was launching herself onto his chest. Pushing him down on the floor. Closing her teeth on his neck.
God, the drinking. He would taste good. So good, she couldn't imagine ever getting enough of him.
He tried to come close to her again. "I didn't mean for things to go so far - "
She leaped up, opened her mouth, and hissed at him. "Get out! For God's sake, leave! Or I'm going to hurt you!"
She raced for the bathroom and locked herself in. As the sound of the door slamming shut faded, she skidded to a halt on the marble and caught the horrible sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair was tangled, her dress undone, her fangs showing white and long in her gaping mouth.
Out of control. Undignified. Defective.
She grabbed the first thing she saw, a heavy glass candle-holder, and hauled it against the mirror. As her reflection shattered, she watched through bitter tears as the pieces of herself fell apart.
Chapter Twenty-two
Butch threw himself at the bathroom door and jerked the handle until his palm nearly tore open. On the other side he heard Marissa crying. Then a shattering noise.
He drove his shoulder into the wooden panels. "Marissa!"
He hit the door with his body again, but then stopped and listened. Wild fear bit into him when there was only silence. "Marissa?"
"Just go." The quiet desperation in her voice made his eyes sting. "Just... go."
He splayed his hand on the wood that separated them. "I'm so sorry."
