“If you’ll give me anything then please do me the favor of not speaking.” He gave her an altogether different highly effective look before stressing, “At all.”
She blinked again, confusion filling her face and Lucien was through.
In less than a second, he had her in his arms, his tongue lashed her neck and he pulled her head back roughly by her long hair. Then he tore into her, her blood spurting into his mouth.
He smelled her excitement immediately.
Neither assuaged the ache in his belly or the throbbing he felt in his cock.
Her head rolled back, giving him better access and further tearing open her own wound, something which he was certain was also practiced.
Her arms started to steal around him and he lifted his head without stroking her wound with his tongue to stop the bleeding. The blood poured down her throat, staining her gown.
“Don’t touch me,” he growled. Her eyes caught his and he saw uncertainty before his mouth went back to the wound.
He fed beyond what would have been healthy for Leah this early in their Arrangement but where he knew he could take this woman. She’d regenerate by the time she wandered into The Den, once invited, open to feeding by anyone.
Then he swept his tongue along the wound, the bleeding stopped and the skin started knitting together. His arms fell away from her, she sagged to her knees in front of him and he made to move to the door.
“Is that it?” she whispered, her hands shooting out to hold him at his hips, her head tilted back, her eyes beseeching, her desperate need to service Lucien in more than just feeding written all over her face.
His eyes dropped to her cleavage and his body responded in spite of his thoughts.
He’d misused her. Even with the mortals at A Feast he had better manners. Hell, even with Wats and Breed he had better manners.
It was Leah and his frustration with her that he was taking out on this creature and it was inexcusable.
Therefore, his tone gentled when he asked, “And what would you like, pet?”
Her eyes flicked to his trousers then back to his. “Anything you want to give me,” she breathed.
Lucien thought of Leah, her stubbornness and the likely weeks of torture ahead for them both.
Lucien was a vampire. Vampires weren’t even expected to be faithful to their mates, another frustration Lucien had with Katrina, certainly not their mule-headed concubines.
Then he shrugged off his jacket.
“Stand up and take off your dress,” he commanded.
At once, she did as she was told and Lucien was far later getting back to Leah than he’d recently decided he would be.
It was an hour away from dawn when he arrived home.
Upon entering the kitchen, he heard the television and saw the flashing lights coming from the family room.
He moved in that direction, entering the room, seeing a late night movie playing, the volume turned low.
Leah was asleep on the couch on her side, her hands in prayer position tucked under her cheek. She was wearing a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms in a paisley of muted colors intermingled with bright pastels with a tight-fitting camisole in robin’s egg blue, one of the colors in the pants.
She looked innocent and adorable, the latter of which she was some of the time, the former, only in her sleep.
Laid out on the coffee table with some of it escaping onto the floor were the remains of what had been an eating orgy. Microwave popcorn, open chip bags, cookies, candy wrappers and a small tub of ice cream, half eaten and now fully melted.
Lucien was not one to partake in junk food, except, as tonight, at A Feast.
A delicious, finely-crafted dessert, definitely.
An orgy of chemically saturated savories and diabetic coma-inducing sweets, never.
He decided he’d have a word with her later about this, if he found the right time, which would likely be in the next decade.
He lifted her and, as had happened last night, she didn’t wake. She simply settled into him, her temple on his shoulder, her forehead pressed into his neck.
He walked with a mortal’s slowness, taking the time to savor her scent. His eyes moving over her profile, his arms curling her soft body closer, enjoying everything that was her after having his fill, several times, of her poor relation tonight. This enjoyment strengthened his resolve to be far more patient while he made her understand and brought about her taming.
Carefully, he pulled back the covers and put her in bed. Swiftly disrobing, he joined her there.
Then he did what he’d decided to do in the car on the way home. It would, he thought, make Leah infinitely more agreeable.
Not delaying, his hands sought her, one at her breast, the other went straight into her pajama bottoms. His mouth went to the skin on her neck below her ear and he tasted her with his tongue.
His fingers worked and she woke on a soft, low moan.
“Lucien?” she whispered, her voice sleepy and sweet and entirely unguarded.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
She drew in a breath, her body stilled then it bucked as if to get away.
He expected this, kept her where she was and continued to work her.
“Lucien!” she snapped, an edge to her voice he hadn’t heard before.
His hand at her breast moved up to her jaw, twisting her head as he lifted his own. He took her mouth in a kiss, his tongue sliding inside as his finger slid inside her.
God, she felt and tasted magnificent.
On that thought he decided, no matter the frustration, he’d not take another meal, or anything, outside of Leah for some time.
Maybe years.
To his surprise, her head reared back into the pillows in order to break their kiss.
It was rare she’d break a kiss. Very rare. She was usually as hungry as he was for that connection. Even more.
Her lips parted, her eyes were wide and he watched them flare with an intensity he’d never seen before from her which was also surprising. She didn’t mask her reactions and she was extraordinarily passionate.
“You’ve –” she started and he withdrew his finger, found her, exerted pressure and circled.
She stopped speaking, her face softened and her eyes grew dazed.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured, his mouth capturing hers, her head reared back again but she pushed her hips into his hand. He gave up on the kiss, opting for something more intimate. He moved his lips to her throat, sweeping his tongue against her skin then biting her there, a small wound opened but the blood didn’t flow.
He had to suck. Which he did.
She liked it as he knew she would.
He heard her moan and her body melted back into his. He drew the blood out of the small wound, heightening her arousal in measured, controlled increments. His hand went back to her breast, fingers rolling her nipple and her head fell back to his shoulder.
He knew she was his when she started bucking her hips, riding his hand.
He felt his cock grow hard at her movements, his mind filled with visions of her riding him and, alternately and no less enjoyable, visions of him riding her.
He carefully opened the wound further and drew more deeply at her blood.
She gasped, her body tightening, he slid a finger inside then another one, both of them stroking deeply all the while his thumb circling her. Her hips were now moving in desperation, her breath coming in pants.
His tongue swathed her wound and he lifted his head to watch her face. He wanted to see her climax.
It didn’t disappoint.
Her neck arched gracefully, her face flushed gorgeously, her eyes slowly closed and her lips parted in a silent moan as her hot, wet sheath closed around his fingers deep inside her.
God, she wasn’t just magnificent. She was so stunning he stopped breathing, feeling it in his gut, lungs and cock, watching her come.