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Anticipating his retreat, she locked her hand on his arm and stubbornly held on.
“But you want it.” Nerves skittered in and out of her before the same courage to shut him up returned. She looked up. “You want me.”
“Wanting is different,” he replied, tone hard…almost like he was trying to convince himself.
“Different how?”
His thumb on her chin was the only warning she got before her head was tilted to receive the mouth descending on her. There was a gentle press, then a harder movement that felt like a hot brand into her soul. Before she knew it, her mind was blank, and her body was overwhelmed with sensations as the man kissed her with a hunger bordering on desperation. She kissed him back, unable to deny her need any longer. She tasted him, a combination of heady, delicious male and sexual tension on the verge of exploding.
Nate’s tongue tapped hers, sending an electric shock that made everything spin. Then his mouth was gone.
“That’s want,” he said, voice hoarse and body rigid with tension. “It doesn’t give me the right to take your blood.”
The ache of his words and the kiss intensified, and she had to bite her tongue.
“Because you want to touch me?”
“Especially because I want to touch you. I don’t mix sex with feeding. It never goes well. I can’t do that to you.”
But she felt his hunger, brimming from every inch of his corded muscles. She felt his need, reaching out to her in a way that told her it was meant solely for her. Winter knew, at that moment, that he would not do anything about it, stubbornly sticking to his honor and the belief that he would be taking advantage. He would hang on to control, rebuilding that wall back into place so she wouldn’t get a glimpse of how he felt again.
And something in her snapped.
“Fine. Then let me distract you from both.”
Chapter 8
One minute, he was fighting with the internal desire that wanted to heave Winter in his lap and just have his way with her, the kiss intensifying a craving that had been raging in his blood for weeks. The next, Nate was flattened on the couch and hands were already moving to unzip his zipper and—
“Winter—”
“Shut up.”
Hands tugged him out with a deftness that should have made him jealous, but there was no space for that emotion when she wrapped her fingers around his bare cock and squeezed softly. Then she was there, kneeling in between his legs that he hadn’t been aware were open, her head so close to his undeniably hard tip that the only way to get her out of there was to forcibly push her back.
Good idea,his conscience said.Bad idea,desire contradicted. Then she was licking the tip and all dilemma halted altogether as lick after lick became the epitome of his walls of self-control crumbling into pieces. The rest of her mouth moved, lips wrapping around him and descending until she had him deep inside. Then it was a mixture of hands, mouth, and tongue on him, hesitant but determined, gaining traction when he finally groaned out the desire he had been trying to hide for so long.
In whichever way Winter was inexperienced, she made up for in eagerness, and the attentive way she licked and sucked on every inch sent him making sounds he didn’t know he could make. His hands gripped her hair, intending to pull her head away but ended up holding on at a particularly hard suck that sent his awareness spiraling downwards. Hunger and desire swirled as he hardened further under her ministrations, but it wasn’t until she cupped his balls and massaged thoroughly that his body could no longer take it.
He jerked her up and felt her willing and reluctant at the same time as she settled on his lap. The warm, vibrating body was madness, an addiction that he couldn’t quite remove.
“I’m about to come,” he rasped.
“My mouth…”
He groaned again and kissed her hard, daring her not to finish the sentence that would have tempted him all over again. Then a different temptation presented itself with her bare neck, where her pulse visibly rampaged. His thumb reached out, touching it. Her hands found his cock again and finished what she had started.
All fight and resistance left. He snapped, fangs sliding out and puncturing her skin until her hot, sweet blood glissaded down his throat and into his system. Her cry was sweet music in his ears, clouded with so much desire as she clung on and let him have his fill. So, Nate took it, sucking for all he was worth, arching up at her every tug of his shaft until it became a sexual dance and a feeding. She arched back to his fingers, opening her top enough to pluck at her nipples, and the dance became so much more than any fantasy he had ever had of her.
Nate continued his feeding until he was at the threshold, then withdrew and licked her neck until the wound was sealed. He came in her hand as his mouth crashed into hers, swallowing his groans up as a white-hot vision hurtled over him. Blown away, he could only hold on to her and bask in its goodness, his body a slave to the overwhelming sensation of climaxing and feeding in one go. When he came down from his high, she was still kissing him lazily, body wrapped in his and contented.
“You are a dirty minx,” he whispered in her ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth.
“I’m not a minx,” she shot back. But there was mischief in her voice as well as a breathlessness that clued him in on what was going on underneath the calm façade. That mischief connected to his as his fingers glided on her thigh, casually massaging before he coasted it inside. Her voice hitched. “And you don’t have to. I did it because I wanted to.”
“What makes you think I don’t want this, too?”
“Nate…”
