Alexander watched her. “What are you doing?”
“Kicking you out.”
His eyes softened. “Sara ...”
She shook her head, hand on the doorknob. “No, there’s not going to be any of that. I heard what you said, and I know what you meant by it, so let’s just call it a day. I have enough impossibilities in my life right now. I don’t need another one.”
“Sara, come back to the table.”
“I won’t deny my attraction to you, Alexander. You know it. I know it. And sitting around here flirting and one-upping each other with witty sexual innuendo is fun and all, but it’s going to become real painful real soon.”
Sara never saw him move. It was like sensing wind before the gust hit, and in the space of a mere breath, he was standing before her, his eyes feral in their unquenched need. “It’s already pretty fucking painful.”
His arm went around her waist and he gathered her close, his head lowering, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that was neither sweet nor soft. It was hard and urgent and hungry—just as he was, and Sara felt unable to resist him or her own curiosity, her own desperation to taste his mouth, his skin. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers gripping his hard, nearly shaved skull.
“You are mine,” he uttered, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, possessing her, lapping at her teeth, groaning as he found the wet heat inside. “An impossible future,” he uttered, pulling back just a breath. “But now—right now—I cannot deny what my unbeating heart desires.”
With his free hand, Alexander untied the knot of silk at her waist and dragged the robe from her shoulders and hips. “Hot skin,” he growled as the white silk landed in a pool around her feet. “Beautiful Sara.”
The cool air hitting her naked flesh warred with the hot touch of the vampire who held her so close. Yes, she could pretend as well as he could. She was his. For now she was his.
Alexander ground his erection against her belly and raked his fangs across her bottom lip. Yes, that was what she wanted. Draw blood. Taste.
The muscles between her thighs quivered at the thought, of the image in her mind—her blood on his tongue—and she reached down, gripped the edges of his shirt, and yanked the fabric over his head. The black thermal flew to the bed just as Sara’s gaze landed on Alexander’s chest. Wide shoulders and thick biceps gave way to yards of lean skin over waves of muscle. Her hands, her touch, began at his throat and drifted lazily downward before sneaking between their bodies. A low, fearsome growl erupted from Alexander’s throat as Sara’s hand closed around the heavy cock in his pants. Mine, she thought, feeling the pulse of his shaft against her palm. Mine. For now . . .
She squeezed him, and with her free hand fumbled with the zipper of his pants. Alexander sucked air between his teeth, pulled back, and stared down at her. “Careful now, woman.” His eyes blazed with lust and his fangs elongated before her eyes. “Release me or blood will be spilled.”
A warning.
He wanted to bite her.
Sara’s fist clenched tighter around his shaft, showing him how badly her cunt wanted to do the same.
“A dangerous game you play,” he hissed, his eyes turning black cherry. He gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bed, sat her down on the achingly soft bedspread. He lowered to his knees before her, his even gaze roaming her naked flesh, the trimmed curls between her thighs that glistened with moisture, her flat stomach rising and falling with each heavy, desperate breath, and her sensitive, distended nipples that ached to be suckled.
His fangs quivered. “I have a need to torture myself, can’t breathe without torturing myself.”
Her cunt ached, clenched with a need to be touched, to be filled. “This is torture? Touching me? Kissing me?”
He leaned toward her, his large hands encircling her waist, his mouth closing in on her left breast. “Sweet, painful, exquisite torture.” He latched on to one ridged nipple and suckled deep.
Sara arched her back, giving herself to him as a mother to her child, feeling the tips of his fangs scrape enticingly against the dusky circle surrounding her nipple. Wetness dripped from her core to her thighs and her breathing turned ragged and strained as the early pulls of orgasm hummed within her.
Alexander left one breast for another and fed deeply, his tongue flicking over the aching bud until Sara was panting, her brow glistening with sweat. “Please ...” she moaned. “I need you . . . Please, Alexander.”
“You never have to beg, Sara.” Alexander grabbed her ass, pulled her to the edge of the mattress and whispered, “Open for me.”
Splaying her thighs, Sara glanced down, her gaze foggy, dreamlike. She saw Alexander’s head poised before the entrance to her body and she saw his cock, jutting out from the confines of his pants. She licked her lips, wondering what he tasted like, wondering if she would ever get the chance to find out.
“Open yourself wider,” he uttered, his hands gripping her inner thighs now. “I want to see all of you . . . yes, every pink, swollen inch.”
“What are you doing?” She knew. Yes, she knew—hell, her body knew. She just wanted to hear him say it.
Alexander traced one long finger down her center, making her hips jerk. “Feeding from you in the only way I can.”
As he said the words, clear fluid leaked from Sara’s cunt and she moaned. Alexander saw it too. He lowered his head and lapped at the sweet moisture, groaned as it traveled down his throat. “Oh, sweet love. So hot, so wet. Your taste . . . It will haunt my days, stretch my cock at night.”
“Alexander, please ...”
“Yes,” he whispered, penetrating her with two thick fingers, “ending your torment will be my greatest pleasure.” His dark head disappeared between her thighs, and he licked at her flesh, flicked his tongue over her clitoris, grazed her swollen lips with his fangs. Just as he’d suckled at her breasts, Alexander milked her clit, gently and rhythmically. He slipped a third finger inside her and went deep, curving his fingers to hit the sweet, hidden spot of pleasure.
“Oh God. Alexander ...” Sara gasped, bracing her hands on the bed, and she thrust her hips up, forward, pressing herself tighter against his mouth. As he played her body, Sara’s mind cleared of all thoughts, leaving only sensitized, electrified skin and muscle.
Her legs began to shake, her thighs too, and she felt tears well at the corners of her eyes. He made her feel this way, only him, for however long it lasted, and she would take this memory with her into every night she was without him.
Heat and electricity surged within her and she bucked against his mouth, everything gone, nothing remembered—the only thing that focused her was climax. Her thrusts became wild, unchecked, and she gripped his head as he flicked her clit over and over with his hot tongue. And then she gasped, stiffened, the walls of her core clenching around his fingers, bathing his fingers as rocketing pleasure coursed through her.
“Yes . . . oh God, yes,” she cried out, riding the waves, riding his mouth, each electric current more intense than the last until finally the world slowed and stopped spinning, and her brain was cleared of the fog of passion and everything returned to the way it had been before.
They gripped each other at the same time, holding on tight as sex scented the room, as Sara caught her breath. She wanted him inside of her, but she didn’t want to let go of him either. She opened her eyes and saw the curve of his neck and the shoulder that only hours ago had been ripped into by a bullet. She stared at his skin, blinking to clear the remaining fog in her head as she noticed that the wound had opened again, just a tiny sliver. And it was leaking blood. She licked her lips, ran her fingers over the healed section of his injury.