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I’m holding on to the sides of the bed for dear life as he pins me to the mattress. His strong hand is wrapped around my throat, giving me a sense of danger, while his other continues those torturous little circles of his with his fingers.
He hasn’t stopped touching me for the past hour.
He hasn’t stopped fucking me, either.
Countless thrusts send pleasure through me like waves in an endless ocean, leaving me buoying for any breath I can catch.
He’s learned that I like it when he cuts off my air. Maybe it’s a fucked-up way of dealing with being mute all my life, but every time he does it, it makes me wet.
His fingers squeeze my throat, causing my lungs to burn as I count his thrusts.
Four.
Five.
Six.
On seven, he releases me and I take in a large gulp of sweet oxygen. The next thrust is fast, hard, and deep, forcing my gasp to turn into a scream.
Then he starts all over again.
As Jasper is a vampire, I know his stamina is near infinite, but he demonstrates his level of control as he strokes me from the inside. He placed a pillow under my hips about thirty minutes ago to make the penetration even deeper, not that I needed it.
“You will feel every inch of me, baby,”he promised.
And spirits, he’s been making sure I do.
Over. And. Over. Again.
Even though the tension inside of me has climbed to a fever pitch, it never quite feels like I can cross over the precipice.
Maybe something’s wrong with me.
“Where’s your mind going, little witchling?” Jasper asks me as he pauses his intense thrusting.
I flash my gaze up at him. My entire body hums with pleasure and seems to vibrate like a guitar string left on a single note.
A sour note where I was wondering why I’m so messed up.
We haven’t been sharing thoughts like I can with my sister. And thank the spirits I know how to wall my mind off from her, or else I’d be getting an earful right now.
I’m supposed to be running for my life. Not having my brains fucked out by my vampire mate—but who’s she to judge?
“Nowhere,” I tell him.
It’s a lie.
Proving that he knows it, he pulls out of me, momentarily giving me reprieve before he flips me onto my stomach. He shoves inside of me again, making me gasp as he wraps his arm around my center and finds my clit once more.
His chest presses up against my back. The pillow keeps my hips elevated while he resumes his torment.
But it’s so much more intense in this position, and he seems to know exactly what he’s doing.
“Do you know what I do to liars?” he asks as he holds me in place. Each deliberate thrust sends pleasure sparking behind my eyes, but it’s too much. I can’t come if he’s overstimulating me.
“No,” I respond, eager to find out.
Because I like the idea of being punished by this vampire. He’s a mercenary trained in the art of death—something that appeals to my darker nature.
