“It hurts,” she moaned. “Oh, God.” Her sobs came hard and fast, and he supposed he should be taking some measure of pleasure from her pain, but all he wanted to do was make it stop. Maybe he’d made a huge mistake. He almost released her, almost apologized, but when she started to push away, he tightened his arms around her. She was strong, and as her struggles grew more frantic, he had to crush her to him.
“Let go!” She tried to throw herself backward, tried to kick him, claw at him, bite him. He took it all, let her do as much damage as she wanted to. “Let… go…” The order came out as a moan and a plea, and as her struggles weakened, she began to sob again.
“Sin,” he whispered into her hair. “Shh…” Relaxing his grip just a little, he hooked a finger under her trembling chin and lifted her face to his. Black eyes swam in tears that left a trail down her cheeks.
Without thinking, he kissed her wet face, first one side, then the other.
“No,” she groaned, but her body sagged against his. And when he pressed his lips to hers, she clung to him as if he were a life raft and she was drowning.
He licked at her lips, easing his way in, not wanting to rush this. In his arms she felt tiny, fragile, in a way she never had and in a way he hadn’t believed possible, and some crazy instinct surfaced, making him want to take care of her, pamper her, and make her strong again.
Though she wasn’t actively participating in the kiss, she wasn’t fighting, either, and he took his time, nibbling at her mouth, stroking her lips, her teeth, and, finally, her tongue. He began an easy rhythm in and out of her mouth, and slowly, so slowly, heat built and she began to respond.
Sin’s hands eased up his back, tentatively at first, but as the kiss deepened, intensified, her touch became firmer, until she was rubbing not only her palms against him, but her br**sts against his chest. “That’s it,” he whispered against her lips. “Touch me.”
Sin dropped her hand to his fly, but he gripped her wrist to stop her.
“Not there. Not yet.”
“But—”
He shut her up with another kiss, this one more urgent, as he carried her to the floor. With one hand, he cupped her buttocks and tucked her beneath him, and with the other, he cradled her head, holding her for his kiss.
Her thighs cradled him in a tight fit, her soft sex rubbing, driving his h*ps forward even though he wanted to keep this whole thing at a leisurely pace. But his loins were already full, his animal blood ran thick and hot in his veins, and the mountains, the wilderness around them, called to his primitive nature.
It demanded that he take her with surety, a rough joining that would make them both howl. And as she came, he’d take her blood, too… The idea made him run both cold and hot. He wanted nothing more than to fill up on her as he filled her up. But, as always, in the back of his mind was the fear of addiction, something he knew he was precariously close to.
He couldn’t be responsible for another death caused by his careless hunger for a female’s blood. Sin’s slick tongue flicked over one of his fangs and then ran up and down it, stroking, and he moaned, forgetting everything but her. Right now, he needed to concentrate on making her feel good. On making her forget the horrors of the day and the horrors yet to come.
The hardest thing he’d ever done was keep from tearing off her clothes and plunging inside her, especially when she began to rock against him, her lean form undulating in sinuous waves. A softly uttered “No” accompanied every roll of her hips. Her body was willing, but her mind still hadn’t accepted this. If he did what his body was demanding, a hard, fast fuck, she’d be on board. But the tenderness was scaring her.
“Easy,” he murmured, as he kissed a trail down her jaw, to her throat, where her pulse beat madly beneath his lips. “If you truly don’t want this, I’ll stop. But it’s time for you, isn’t it?” He knew it wasn’t. Oh, she was giving off the usual succubus fuck-me vibes, but not in desperate, take-me-now quantities. But she was nervous, afraid, and she needed an excuse to go with this because she wanted to, not because she required it.
“Yes,” she rasped, the lie seeming to catch in her throat.
“Then I’ll take care of you,” he murmured. The problem, he realized, as his hunger surfaced, would be taking care of himself. Sin was scared to death.
It took a lot to terrify her. But somehow this sexy dhampire who was kissing her senseless was making her squirm with anxiety and need that went deeper than the physical. He’d forced her to confront emotions she’d never wanted to experience, and she was still reeling from that, trying to stuff those feelings back in the box they’d been locked in for so long.
Cold, hard-core sex would help make that happen. Con reared back, just a little, so he could peel off her top and bra, her ultrathin leather dagger harness, and then her boots, pants, and thigh and ankle sheaths. He made a messy pile of her weapons, something that made her twitchy, but then he was touching her again, and her weapons were forgotten. Her heart pinged around in her rib cage as he slid his long, talented fingers up and over her breasts. She inhaled, taking in the musky scents of aroused male and battle that still clung to Con’s bronzed skin. Lust tackled her, turned her muscles to Jell-O, and made her core run wet.
Writhing, she dropped her head onto the hardwood floor with a frustrated curse. “Stop teasing.” She went for his pants again, but he stopped her, his grip on her wrist ruthless almost to the point of pain.
“I’m going to make love to you, Sin. We’re not going to fuck. We’re taking it slow, with lots of that foreplay I talked about.”
Her chest constricted with alarm. “Why?” He made a sound that was something between a chuckle and a purr. “Only you would question extended erotic play.” His fingers delved between her legs, feathering over the fleshy lips of her sex. “And I intend to turn you into my personal playground.”
Oh, Jesus. “I… can’t.” She didn’t know how. But more than that, making love would leave her open, vulnerable. Fucking was easy, two bodies slapping together to reach a brief moment of pleasure. Making love involved emotions tangling and minds meeting until the orgasm was more than physical… and she wasn’t good at that at all.
“You can, and you will.” He peeled off his jeans, leaving his lean, toned body completely na**d, his silver eyes glittering in the moonlight streaming through the windows, his fangs glinting wetly. Deep-cut muscles flexed from his neck, to his arms, to his abs, where a thin line of blond hair beckoned her gaze lower. His c**k was so rigid that it curved into his stomach, the veins throbbing with the intensity of his arousal. He looked like a god, a devil, a wild animal intent on taking what it wanted.
And yet, there was an underlying tenderness in his expression and in his touch as he prowled up the length of her body. Something lurched in her chest. Her heart, something she’d believed to be completely insulated, was reacting to this man in a way it never had before.
Panic wrapped around her, and with a cry, she shoved him away and scrambled to her hands and knees. Terror made her awkward, and she slipped while trying to get to her feet. A low, dangerous growl sounded behind her, and she screamed just before Con’s heavy body covered her so she was belly down on the floor. One hand yanked her arms above her head, pinning her, while the other delved between her legs.
“Please, Con,” she begged, but she wasn’t sure what she was pleading for. She tried to break his grip on her wrists, but her h*ps rose to meet his fingers as they penetrated her core. His breath was hot and desperate against her ear, and she realized he’d bitten her lobe, was using his mouth as yet another way to hold her. She made a sound of equal desperation, a high-pitched plea for more. For less. She didn’t know which.
The fact that she’d made that much noise at all was a sign that she was in trouble. She’d always been silent in her passions, but Con had a way of coaxing things out of her, whether she liked it or not… and oh, yes, she liked that…
He controlled her with the weight of his body, his strong legs that caged hers together, and those fingers that began an erotic glide in and out of her sex. She wouldn’t come from what he was doing, but he could get her so close that she could explode the moment he entered her if even a drop of p**cum eased from the tip of his cock.
Moaning, she shifted her butt toward his shaft, which lay heavily in the crease of her thighs. “Not yet,” he murmured. “Almost.” His tongue made a slow, wet stroke around the rim of her ear. “Do you promise to be good?” He squeezed his hand around her wrists as emphasis. “Yes,” she groaned. “Just f**k me.”
His deep laughter vibrated her organs deliciously. “There will be none of that.”
“I so want to kill you right now.”
This time, his laughter was silent, but she felt it in the rise and fall of his shoulders on her back. Carefully, he released her and slid down her body. His lips kissed her spine, his tongue licked her skin, and his fangs scraped her hip. What the—She tried to push up, but he palmed the small of her back and pressed her down while slipping his other hand beneath her belly to lift just her hips.
When he nibbled her butt cheek, she yelped. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing your beautiful ass.” And then his tongue was between her legs and she cried out at the wonderful sensation. The tip flicked over her clit, and then slid back to delve in her slick heat. “Oh, God.” She shuddered at the lash of his tongue as he repeated the sequence. Each flick, each stroke, each penetrating thrust wrung a different sound from her, and holy hell, why had she ever thought that foreplay was a ridiculous waste of time?
“Do you like this?” he said against her intimate flesh, the vibration roaring through her and bringing her as close to orgasm as she could get without s**en filling her.
Frustration put an edge on her reply, which was more of a shout. “Yes!” Suddenly, he flipped her so she was on her back, her legs flung wide, and his mouth was between them. An animal purr rose up from him as he licked and sucked, and she screamed when he pushed two fingers inside her.
“Con, I need… need… you.”
He lifted his head, the silver in his eyes swirling with molten heat. “Foreplay first.” “But I can’t come that way.”
His smile was pure evil. “Yes,” he insisted, “you can.” He rose up between her legs, blocking the white moonlight streaming in through the front window blinds. His c**k was a thick, dusky column against his bronzed skin, and her throat tightened and her mouth went dry as he fisted it and began to pump.
Holding her gaze with his, he took her hand and replaced his with hers. “Stroke.” She didn’t even consider disobeying his guttural command. She squeezed his hard flesh from base to tip as he thrust into her fist. His breaths became ragged, his surging motion less coordinated, and he threw back his head and let loose a roar that shook the house. His come spurted onto her belly, a hot, pumping cream that tingled. He shuddered, jerked, until finally he gripped her wrist and made her stop.
He was still hard, his shaft bucking in her grip. “I can control how much s**en I release,” he breathed. “A benefit of being a dhampire.”
One of many bennies, she was discovering. “That is so cool.” She arched her h*ps and wrapped her legs around his thighs. “You can still come inside me, right?”
“I will come inside you,” he said. “But not yet.” “Damn you!” She swiped at him, only a little playfully, but he caught her hand, kissed her knuckles, and dove back between her legs. His tongue was a merciless whip on her tender, swollen flesh, and just as she was about to start sobbing with frustration, he smoothed his hand up her belly and swiped his finger in the warm pool of wetness he’d left there.
His lips latched onto her clit, and he sucked hard, his tongue circling and flicking… and then he inserted his finger deep into her core. It was as if lightning had struck her. Every cell in her body exploded with ecstasy, her blood boiled, and pleasure shot up her spine and came out her mouth as a scream. His finger swirled inside her as his mouth continued to work on her flesh, and she came again, over and over, her body bucking uncontrollably, until finally, mercifully, he stopped, and she lay limp on the floor.
He crawled up her body, his muscles tense, bunching as he moved. “I’m not done with you, sweetheart,” he growled. “Not. Even. Close.” A tremor shook her body at the undercurrent of possession in his voice. He wasn’t done because he hadn’t gotten what he wanted out of her yet. And as she looked into his heated gaze, she knew what he wanted.
Her soul.
Thirteen
Sin’s broken, whispered words, “I can’t,” when he’d said they were going to make love instead of get down and dirty and violent had sucker punched Con. He’d known at that moment that no one had ever taken time with her, had ever shown her any kind of compassion or attention during sex, and she didn’t know how to handle it, accept it, or feel deserving of it. For the longest time, he’d assumed her tough exterior was a defense against the things she did and saw on the job, but now he’d glimpsed something inside her—an extremely low measure of self-worth.
And Con was at least partly to blame. His own words, spoken just before they’d first had sex, came back in a sickening rush. She’d asked him about his motives, and he’d been crystal clear. I don’t want to get to know you. I want to f**k you.
How many times had she heard that in her life? How many times had a male dismissed her as a person and valued her only as an object to rut on? The answer, he knew, was too many, and while he couldn’t erase all of them, he could make up for his own shameful callousness.
“Let go!” She tried to throw herself backward, tried to kick him, claw at him, bite him. He took it all, let her do as much damage as she wanted to. “Let… go…” The order came out as a moan and a plea, and as her struggles weakened, she began to sob again.
“Sin,” he whispered into her hair. “Shh…” Relaxing his grip just a little, he hooked a finger under her trembling chin and lifted her face to his. Black eyes swam in tears that left a trail down her cheeks.
Without thinking, he kissed her wet face, first one side, then the other.
“No,” she groaned, but her body sagged against his. And when he pressed his lips to hers, she clung to him as if he were a life raft and she was drowning.
He licked at her lips, easing his way in, not wanting to rush this. In his arms she felt tiny, fragile, in a way she never had and in a way he hadn’t believed possible, and some crazy instinct surfaced, making him want to take care of her, pamper her, and make her strong again.
Though she wasn’t actively participating in the kiss, she wasn’t fighting, either, and he took his time, nibbling at her mouth, stroking her lips, her teeth, and, finally, her tongue. He began an easy rhythm in and out of her mouth, and slowly, so slowly, heat built and she began to respond.
Sin’s hands eased up his back, tentatively at first, but as the kiss deepened, intensified, her touch became firmer, until she was rubbing not only her palms against him, but her br**sts against his chest. “That’s it,” he whispered against her lips. “Touch me.”
Sin dropped her hand to his fly, but he gripped her wrist to stop her.
“Not there. Not yet.”
“But—”
He shut her up with another kiss, this one more urgent, as he carried her to the floor. With one hand, he cupped her buttocks and tucked her beneath him, and with the other, he cradled her head, holding her for his kiss.
Her thighs cradled him in a tight fit, her soft sex rubbing, driving his h*ps forward even though he wanted to keep this whole thing at a leisurely pace. But his loins were already full, his animal blood ran thick and hot in his veins, and the mountains, the wilderness around them, called to his primitive nature.
It demanded that he take her with surety, a rough joining that would make them both howl. And as she came, he’d take her blood, too… The idea made him run both cold and hot. He wanted nothing more than to fill up on her as he filled her up. But, as always, in the back of his mind was the fear of addiction, something he knew he was precariously close to.
He couldn’t be responsible for another death caused by his careless hunger for a female’s blood. Sin’s slick tongue flicked over one of his fangs and then ran up and down it, stroking, and he moaned, forgetting everything but her. Right now, he needed to concentrate on making her feel good. On making her forget the horrors of the day and the horrors yet to come.
The hardest thing he’d ever done was keep from tearing off her clothes and plunging inside her, especially when she began to rock against him, her lean form undulating in sinuous waves. A softly uttered “No” accompanied every roll of her hips. Her body was willing, but her mind still hadn’t accepted this. If he did what his body was demanding, a hard, fast fuck, she’d be on board. But the tenderness was scaring her.
“Easy,” he murmured, as he kissed a trail down her jaw, to her throat, where her pulse beat madly beneath his lips. “If you truly don’t want this, I’ll stop. But it’s time for you, isn’t it?” He knew it wasn’t. Oh, she was giving off the usual succubus fuck-me vibes, but not in desperate, take-me-now quantities. But she was nervous, afraid, and she needed an excuse to go with this because she wanted to, not because she required it.
“Yes,” she rasped, the lie seeming to catch in her throat.
“Then I’ll take care of you,” he murmured. The problem, he realized, as his hunger surfaced, would be taking care of himself. Sin was scared to death.
It took a lot to terrify her. But somehow this sexy dhampire who was kissing her senseless was making her squirm with anxiety and need that went deeper than the physical. He’d forced her to confront emotions she’d never wanted to experience, and she was still reeling from that, trying to stuff those feelings back in the box they’d been locked in for so long.
Cold, hard-core sex would help make that happen. Con reared back, just a little, so he could peel off her top and bra, her ultrathin leather dagger harness, and then her boots, pants, and thigh and ankle sheaths. He made a messy pile of her weapons, something that made her twitchy, but then he was touching her again, and her weapons were forgotten. Her heart pinged around in her rib cage as he slid his long, talented fingers up and over her breasts. She inhaled, taking in the musky scents of aroused male and battle that still clung to Con’s bronzed skin. Lust tackled her, turned her muscles to Jell-O, and made her core run wet.
Writhing, she dropped her head onto the hardwood floor with a frustrated curse. “Stop teasing.” She went for his pants again, but he stopped her, his grip on her wrist ruthless almost to the point of pain.
“I’m going to make love to you, Sin. We’re not going to fuck. We’re taking it slow, with lots of that foreplay I talked about.”
Her chest constricted with alarm. “Why?” He made a sound that was something between a chuckle and a purr. “Only you would question extended erotic play.” His fingers delved between her legs, feathering over the fleshy lips of her sex. “And I intend to turn you into my personal playground.”
Oh, Jesus. “I… can’t.” She didn’t know how. But more than that, making love would leave her open, vulnerable. Fucking was easy, two bodies slapping together to reach a brief moment of pleasure. Making love involved emotions tangling and minds meeting until the orgasm was more than physical… and she wasn’t good at that at all.
“You can, and you will.” He peeled off his jeans, leaving his lean, toned body completely na**d, his silver eyes glittering in the moonlight streaming through the windows, his fangs glinting wetly. Deep-cut muscles flexed from his neck, to his arms, to his abs, where a thin line of blond hair beckoned her gaze lower. His c**k was so rigid that it curved into his stomach, the veins throbbing with the intensity of his arousal. He looked like a god, a devil, a wild animal intent on taking what it wanted.
And yet, there was an underlying tenderness in his expression and in his touch as he prowled up the length of her body. Something lurched in her chest. Her heart, something she’d believed to be completely insulated, was reacting to this man in a way it never had before.
Panic wrapped around her, and with a cry, she shoved him away and scrambled to her hands and knees. Terror made her awkward, and she slipped while trying to get to her feet. A low, dangerous growl sounded behind her, and she screamed just before Con’s heavy body covered her so she was belly down on the floor. One hand yanked her arms above her head, pinning her, while the other delved between her legs.
“Please, Con,” she begged, but she wasn’t sure what she was pleading for. She tried to break his grip on her wrists, but her h*ps rose to meet his fingers as they penetrated her core. His breath was hot and desperate against her ear, and she realized he’d bitten her lobe, was using his mouth as yet another way to hold her. She made a sound of equal desperation, a high-pitched plea for more. For less. She didn’t know which.
The fact that she’d made that much noise at all was a sign that she was in trouble. She’d always been silent in her passions, but Con had a way of coaxing things out of her, whether she liked it or not… and oh, yes, she liked that…
He controlled her with the weight of his body, his strong legs that caged hers together, and those fingers that began an erotic glide in and out of her sex. She wouldn’t come from what he was doing, but he could get her so close that she could explode the moment he entered her if even a drop of p**cum eased from the tip of his cock.
Moaning, she shifted her butt toward his shaft, which lay heavily in the crease of her thighs. “Not yet,” he murmured. “Almost.” His tongue made a slow, wet stroke around the rim of her ear. “Do you promise to be good?” He squeezed his hand around her wrists as emphasis. “Yes,” she groaned. “Just f**k me.”
His deep laughter vibrated her organs deliciously. “There will be none of that.”
“I so want to kill you right now.”
This time, his laughter was silent, but she felt it in the rise and fall of his shoulders on her back. Carefully, he released her and slid down her body. His lips kissed her spine, his tongue licked her skin, and his fangs scraped her hip. What the—She tried to push up, but he palmed the small of her back and pressed her down while slipping his other hand beneath her belly to lift just her hips.
When he nibbled her butt cheek, she yelped. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing your beautiful ass.” And then his tongue was between her legs and she cried out at the wonderful sensation. The tip flicked over her clit, and then slid back to delve in her slick heat. “Oh, God.” She shuddered at the lash of his tongue as he repeated the sequence. Each flick, each stroke, each penetrating thrust wrung a different sound from her, and holy hell, why had she ever thought that foreplay was a ridiculous waste of time?
“Do you like this?” he said against her intimate flesh, the vibration roaring through her and bringing her as close to orgasm as she could get without s**en filling her.
Frustration put an edge on her reply, which was more of a shout. “Yes!” Suddenly, he flipped her so she was on her back, her legs flung wide, and his mouth was between them. An animal purr rose up from him as he licked and sucked, and she screamed when he pushed two fingers inside her.
“Con, I need… need… you.”
He lifted his head, the silver in his eyes swirling with molten heat. “Foreplay first.” “But I can’t come that way.”
His smile was pure evil. “Yes,” he insisted, “you can.” He rose up between her legs, blocking the white moonlight streaming in through the front window blinds. His c**k was a thick, dusky column against his bronzed skin, and her throat tightened and her mouth went dry as he fisted it and began to pump.
Holding her gaze with his, he took her hand and replaced his with hers. “Stroke.” She didn’t even consider disobeying his guttural command. She squeezed his hard flesh from base to tip as he thrust into her fist. His breaths became ragged, his surging motion less coordinated, and he threw back his head and let loose a roar that shook the house. His come spurted onto her belly, a hot, pumping cream that tingled. He shuddered, jerked, until finally he gripped her wrist and made her stop.
He was still hard, his shaft bucking in her grip. “I can control how much s**en I release,” he breathed. “A benefit of being a dhampire.”
One of many bennies, she was discovering. “That is so cool.” She arched her h*ps and wrapped her legs around his thighs. “You can still come inside me, right?”
“I will come inside you,” he said. “But not yet.” “Damn you!” She swiped at him, only a little playfully, but he caught her hand, kissed her knuckles, and dove back between her legs. His tongue was a merciless whip on her tender, swollen flesh, and just as she was about to start sobbing with frustration, he smoothed his hand up her belly and swiped his finger in the warm pool of wetness he’d left there.
His lips latched onto her clit, and he sucked hard, his tongue circling and flicking… and then he inserted his finger deep into her core. It was as if lightning had struck her. Every cell in her body exploded with ecstasy, her blood boiled, and pleasure shot up her spine and came out her mouth as a scream. His finger swirled inside her as his mouth continued to work on her flesh, and she came again, over and over, her body bucking uncontrollably, until finally, mercifully, he stopped, and she lay limp on the floor.
He crawled up her body, his muscles tense, bunching as he moved. “I’m not done with you, sweetheart,” he growled. “Not. Even. Close.” A tremor shook her body at the undercurrent of possession in his voice. He wasn’t done because he hadn’t gotten what he wanted out of her yet. And as she looked into his heated gaze, she knew what he wanted.
Her soul.
Thirteen
Sin’s broken, whispered words, “I can’t,” when he’d said they were going to make love instead of get down and dirty and violent had sucker punched Con. He’d known at that moment that no one had ever taken time with her, had ever shown her any kind of compassion or attention during sex, and she didn’t know how to handle it, accept it, or feel deserving of it. For the longest time, he’d assumed her tough exterior was a defense against the things she did and saw on the job, but now he’d glimpsed something inside her—an extremely low measure of self-worth.
And Con was at least partly to blame. His own words, spoken just before they’d first had sex, came back in a sickening rush. She’d asked him about his motives, and he’d been crystal clear. I don’t want to get to know you. I want to f**k you.
How many times had she heard that in her life? How many times had a male dismissed her as a person and valued her only as an object to rut on? The answer, he knew, was too many, and while he couldn’t erase all of them, he could make up for his own shameful callousness.
