Dead After Dark (Companion #6.5)(41)

“You are a dream,” she said.

His hands shook as they gripped the tie that was around her waist and slowly slid the two pieces apart. He took the lapels and pulled them back, revealing her breasts.

As he looked at her, she became aware that he was making a strange sound, like the deep purr of a cat.

“You are . . . resplendent,” he said, his eyes wide with wonder and awe. “May I touch you?”

When she nodded, one of his long-fingered hands came out. He brushed the underside of one breast and then traveled up to the pink, tight crown. The instant he made contact with her nipple, she arched and closed her eyes. His touch was like a flame, weighing nothing and burning her.

“Kiss me,” she said, reaching for his shoulders so she could pull him down to her breast. When he went for her mouth instead, she stopped him. “On my breasts this time. Kiss me on them. All over them. Take them into your mouth and roll the nipples with your tongue.”

Michael eased himself down her body until he was eye level with one of her nipples. His expression was part animalistic lust, like he wanted to devour her, and part winsome, aching gratitude.

He nuzzled at her and then covered her with his lips. As she shuddered and linked her legs around the middle of his back, he sucked gently, learning her body, taking his time. Impatient, needing more, she threaded her hands through his hair and urged him on so he’d work her with power.

He didn’t need much encouragement.

Sexually speaking, his natural inclination was to dominate. She might have started out as the teacher, but he was taking things from there, driving the sex, taking them both higher. He watched her as he suckled on her, his eyes greedy and hot, all male satisfaction as she writhed under him. And then he was kissing her again and his hands were grabbing on to her hips so he could rub his arousal into her.

They had reached the point of no return as far as she was concerned and she was about to say so when he pulled back.

His mouth was open, his fangs showing.

That was when she came.

She convulsed under his body, her thighs clamping around his hips, her core pressing upward, seeking more even as it released.

She was vaguely aware as his expression changed to one of shock. Which made sense because she was shouting something incoherent and digging her nails into him.

When she’d settled down, her eyes focused.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“God . . . yes.” Her voice was haggard.

“Are you sure? What happened?”

“You made me orgasm.” He frowned as if he were trying to figure out whether that was a good thing. “It felt fabulous.”

“Can you do that again?”

God, she couldn’t wait. “With you? Absolutely.”

His smile was guileless, nothing but a generous, kind lift to that amazing mouth of his. “I want you to do that again. You’re beautiful when that happens.”

“Then touch me between my legs,” she whispered against his lips. “And I will.”

Michael rolled off her while pressing kisses to her breasts as if he hated leaving them. Then he took his hand and moved it down over her stomach, pushing the robe completely aside.

She had a passing moment of worry. She had no idea how he’d react to her naked.

He tilted his head to one side as the silk fell off her body. “You have hair there.”

“Don’t you?”

He shook his head. “I like yours,” he murmured, running his fingers back and forth ever so lightly. “It’s so soft.”

“There’s something even softer.”

“There is?”

She spread her legs and guided him where she wanted him to go. At the first surge of contact, she bit her lip and torqued— Michael moaned. “You’re . . . slick.”

“I’m ready for you.”

He took his hand up and stared at his fingers, then rubbed them together. “It’s like silk.” Before she could say another thing, he slipped them into his mouth. Closing his eyes, he sucked at what had touched her.

Which brought her right to the edge again. “Michael . . .”

And that was when breakfast arrived.





5


As the sound of a metal gate slamming shut ricocheted around the stone walls, the smell of bacon wafted over. Michael looked torn.

“Later,” she said.

“You need to eat.”

“Later.”

“No, now. I am . . . very hungry for you. I will come to you when you are finished.” With that, he went over for the tray, which had arrived in that bread box thing by the door. He brought the food over by the bed, then dissolved into the darkness.

As the sounds of the chains ceased, Claire pulled the robe around her. It was hard to imagine that she could be frustrated after the release he’d just given her. But she was. She wanted him inside of her.

Claire lifted the lid, looked at the food, and went cold. “This is lunch.”

The bacon was in a quiche and there was a glass of wine as well as a fruit tart.

“You slept through breakfast and I didn’t want you to eat cold food.”

Jesus, she had only a day and a half left. Under normal circumstances that would be cause for celebration, assuming she was going to make it out alive so she could come back for him. But the fact that she had to leave him, even if she was returning to free him, made her anxious as hell.