Lover Unleashed (Black Dagger Brotherhood #9)(62)

“More,” she said with husky demand. “More . . .”

For a split second, his heart stopped and he rethought the go-easy routine: That tone of voice was so not little-girl-lost. It was all woman, ready for a lover.

And gee whiz, under the she-didn’t-need-to-ask-twice theory, he took over, stroking her mouth with his own before sucking in her lower lip. As his hand wound around her nape, he wanted to undo that braid and get into that hair of hers . . . but that was too close to undressing her, and this was far from private.

And he was close enough to coming already, thank you very much.

He slipped his tongue into her and groaned, his arms tightening around her—before he told them to loosen up or he was going to break them both off below the shoulder. Man, she was pure octane in his blood, his body in full gear and roaring. And he’d thought those dreams were hot? The real thing made that shit feel room-temperature compared to the surface of Mercury.

More with the tongue, more getting into her and pulling out, more of everything, until he had to force himself back. His hips were grinding against her tight ass in his lap—and that hardly seemed fair, given that she couldn’t feel it.

Taking a deep breath, he didn’t last long before dropping down to her neck to suck along the column of her throat—

Her nails bit so hard into his shoulders, he knew that if he’d been naked, she’d have drawn blood—and that f*cking turned him on. Shit, the idea that there could be even more than just sex, that she could lock herself on his neck, and take him into her in more than just one way—

With a sharp hiss, Manny yanked himself off her skin and let his head fall back, breath shooting up and out of his lungs. “I think we need to slow it down.”

“Why,” she said, her eyes missing nothing about him. Leaning in, she growled, “You want this.”

“Oh, f*ck . . . yeah.”

Her hands went to the front of his shirt. “Then let’s keep going—”

He snapped a hold on her wrists as an orgasm tingled at the tip of his erection. “You have to stop that. Right now.”

God, he could barely breathe.

Abruptly, she pulled herself out of his grip and ducked her head. Clearing her throat, she said roughly, “Verily, I am sorry.”

The shame she had made his chest raw. “No, no . . . it’s not you.”

When she didn’t respond, he tilted her chin up, and had to wonder if she had any clue what the male body did when it was this turned on. Christ, did she even know what an erection was?

“Listen carefully,” he all but growled. “I want you. Here. Back in your room. On the floor out in the hall. Up against the wall. Any way, anywhere, anytime. Clear?”

Her eyes flared. “But then why don’t—”

“I think your brother’s out in the hall, for one thing. For another, you’ve told me you’ve never been with anyone before. I, on the other hand, know exactly where this could lead, and the last thing I want to do is freak you out by going too fast.”

Their eyes stayed locked. And then after a moment, her lips lifted into a smile so far and wide that a dimple popped out on one side and her perfect white teeth gleamed—

Jesus . . . her fangs were longer. Much longer. And oh, so very sharp.

Manny couldn’t help himself: All he could do was imagine what it would feel like to have one of them dragging up the underside of his cock.

The orgasm in his shaft made yet another bid to break free.

And that was before Payne’s pink tongue came out and did a lingering sweep over the sharp points. “You like?”

Manny’s chest pumped hard. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah . . .”

All at once, the lights went off, the room plunging into darkness. And then there were two clicks . . . locks? Could it be the locks on the doors?

In the glow of the computer screen, he saw her face change. Gone was any remnant of shy, innocent passion. . . . In its place was a raw, strapping hunger that reminded him she was not human. She was a beautiful predator, a gorgeous, powerful animal that was just human enough for him to forget who and what she really was.

Moving without thought, Manny brought one of his hands up to his white coat. In the process of his sitting down with her, the stiff lapels had popped up and now he pulled them down, exposing his neck.

He was panting. Straight-up panting.

“Take me,” he ground out. “Do it . . . I want to know what it’s like.”

Now she was the one in control, her strong hands coming up to his face and dragging down his neck to his collarbone. She didn’t have to tilt his head back. He did that without direction, his throat bared and inviting.

“Are you certain,” she said, her accent rolling those Rs.

He was breathing so hard he wasn’t sure he could choke out a reply, so he nodded. And then, worried that wasn’t enough, he put his hands over hers, pressing her hold into him.

She took over from there, focusing on his jugular, her eyes seeming to light up like stars in the night. When she closed in, she did it slowly, disappearing the inches between her fangs and his flesh with aching delay.

The brush of her lips was nothing but velvet, except the anticipation of what was to come had him hyper-focusing so everything was magnified. He knew precisely where she was—

The scrape was viciously soft as she nuzzled him.