Lover Revealed (Black Dagger Brotherhood #4)(72)

“Not by a long shot.” Man, he loved that glassy, sexed-up look in her eyes. “Why don’t you lie back and let me do my thing. We’re just getting started here.”

As she relaxed a little, he looked down at her secrets, seeing the high gloss on the tender flesh, thinking there was going to be a whole lot more of that shine when he was through. He kissed her again, then lollipopped her, flattening his tongue out and trolling up nice and lazylike. Then he swept his mouth from side to side, nuzzling in farther, hearing her moan. With gentle pressure, he opened her thighs more and latched on to her, drawing on her core in a rhythmic sucking.

When she started to thrash, a buzzing lit off in his head, the shrill warning a Danger, Will Robinson from the civilized part of him that things were about to go meteoric. But he couldn’t quit, especially as she grabbed onto the sheets and arched up like she was going to come at any second.

“Feel good?” He tickled the top of her cleft, flicking over the most sensitive part. “You like this? You like me tonguing you? Or maybe you like this…” He sucked her into his mouth and she cried out. “Oh, yeah…God, my lips are covered with you…feel them, feel me…”

He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, moving her fingers back and forth, then licking them clean. She watched him with wide eyes, panting, nipples tight. He was pushing her hard and he knew it, but she was right there with him.

He bit her palm. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”

“I…” Her body undulated on the bed.

“Tell me you want me.” He nailed her harder with his teeth. Shit, he wasn’t sure why he needed to hear it from her so badly, but he did. “Say it.”

“I want you,” she gasped.

From out of nowhere, a dangerous, greedy lust slapped hold of him and his control shattered. With a dark sound that came from his gut, he clamped his hands on the insides of her thighs, split her wide and literally dove between her legs. As he fell upon her flesh, penetrating her with his tongue, finding a rhythm with his jaw, he was dimly aware of some kind of noise in the room, a growling.

Him? Couldn’t be. That was the sound of…an animal.



Marissa had been shocked by the act at first. The carnality of it. The sinful closeness, the scary vulnerability. But soon none of that mattered. Butch’s warm tongue was so erotic she could hardly bear the slick, slippery sensation of it—and couldn’t stand the idea that he’d ever stop what he was doing, either. Then he started sucking on her, sucking and swallowing and saying things that made her sex swell until the pleasure stung like pain.

But all that was nothing compared to when he let loose. With a surge of male need, his heavy hands held her down, his mouth, his tongue, his face going all over her…God, that sound coming out of him, that throaty, pumping purr…

She orgasmed wildly, the most shattering, beautiful thing she’d ever felt, her body arching into the liquid flashes of pleasure—

Except at the crest, the seething energy shifted, transformed, detonated.

Bloodlust roared along the sexual current between them, then pulled her down into a spiral of starvation. Hunger ripped through her civilized nature, shredding everything but the need to go for his neck, and she bared her fangs, ready to flip him over onto his back and strike at his jugular and drink hard—

She was going to kill him.

She cried out and struggled against his hold. “Oh, God…no!”

“What?”

Shoving at Butch’s shoulders, she hauled her body away from him, shooting off the side of the bed and falling to the floor. As he reached for her in confusion, she scrambled across the rug to the far corner, her dress dragging behind, the top hanging from her waist. When there was no farther to go, she curled into a ball and held herself in place. As her body shook uncontrollably, the pain in her belly hit in waves, redoubling each time it returned.

Butch came after her, panicked. “Marissa…?”

“No!”

He hauled up short. His face was stricken, all the color run out of his skin. “I’m so sorry—dear God—”

“You’ve got to go.” As tears came up her throat, her voice went guttural.

“Sweet Jesus, I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to scare you…”

She tried to control her breathing so she could reassure him, but lost the fight: She was panting, crying. Her fangs throbbed. Her throat was dry. And all she could think of was launching herself onto his chest. Pushing him down on the floor. Closing her teeth on his neck.

God, the drinking. He would taste good. So good, she couldn’t imagine ever getting enough of him.

He tried to come close to her again. “I didn’t mean for things to go so far—”

She leaped up, opened her mouth, and hissed at him. “Get out! For God’s sake, leave! Or I’m going to hurt you!”

She raced for the bathroom and locked herself in. As the sound of the door slamming shut faded, she skidded to a halt on the marble and caught the horrible sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair was tangled, her dress undone, her fangs showing white and long in her gaping mouth.

Out of control. Undignified. Defective.

She grabbed the first thing she saw, a heavy glass candleholder, and hauled it against the mirror. As her reflection shattered, she watched through bitter tears as the pieces of herself fell apart.