Shadow's Claim (Immortals After Dark #13)(87)

“You don’t?”

With a blush, she reached behind her, untying the lace of her top. When she peered up at him for courage, he rasped, “For me?”

She removed the material, revealing perfect pale swells tipped with rosy peaks. He’d seen them before, he’d kissed them before; a groan still burst from his chest.

The corners of her red lips curled. “You . . . like them.”

“Like?” He covered one with his palm, giving a gentle squeeze. “Already I’m obsessed with them. I imagine an eternity tending to them and every inch of your ravishing little body.” He leaned in to kiss her, promising her, “Soon, Bett,” just before his lips met hers. He drank in her sweet gasp.

She met his seeking tongue, lightly swirling the tip of hers against his. He loved the way she kissed—with shy laps of her tongue, welcoming lips, and now a needy moan.

One of his shaking hands cupped the back of her head; his other eased down to unravel the ties of her skirt, pulling it free.

He broke away, but only to admire the gift he was unwrapping. “Loveliness itself,” he declared when he saw her in only a scrap of black lace.

Slowly, so as not to frighten her, he tugged her panties down her legs, leaving them around one slim ankle.

The sight of her body stole his breath. Waist so small, skin so sleek. Water drops trailed over taut limbs, delectable curves, and those pert breasts. The tiny thatch of dark curls on her mound beckoned. . . .

No, he was not a mere observer. As he raised his face to hers, he realized he couldn’t be more present, more engaged. Scents washed over him. Warm rain lingered over their heated skin. The beat of their hearts sounded in his ears.

The two of them were a part of this storm, a part of this wild shelter.

And his female was awaiting his next move, studying him with wide, shimmering eyes.

“Do you know what I plan to do to you, Bett?”

She swallowed. “K-kiss my breasts?”

“Would you like me to?” She nodded eagerly. “Then lie back.”

When she reclined across the furs, he moved over her, leaning down to lick moisture from her delicate collarbone down to the curves of her breasts. Two pouting nipples taunted him. Which to suckle first?

He groaned as he closed his lips over one, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the other. With his tongue, he flicked fast and hard. With his thumb, he rubbed so slowly.

She arched her back for more. “Ah, Daciano, what are you doing to me?”

Anything I can—up to a point. Hard and fast. Lazily back and forth. Then he switched mouth and hand.

When her head began to thrash, he left two throbbing nipples in his wake and started kissing down her flat belly.

By the time he reached her navel, she was shaking with need. But she raised herself up on her elbows. “Daciano? Wait.”

“Do not stop me, Bett.” His voice was a growl. “You know what I want.”

“But your fangs?”

“I can control them.”

“Are you sure? I-I don’t want you to bite me.”

“I won’t take your blood again. Not until it’s given.” He stroked his palms up from her knees. “Do you trust me?” he asked her with a wet lick just above her curls.

“I do. I really do.”

“Then part your thighs, drag?.”

At length, she lay back, gripping the furs in her fists.

Am I to have this prize?

Though a furious blush suffused her skin, she slowly began spreading her knees. His heart twisted in his chest at this show of trust from his Bride.

Gods, yes, he would survive tomorrow!

He would live to know the full power of her desire. He’d live to claim his stunning female, to master her body with his own, to win her eternally—

She bared her succulent sex; his body reacted with an animalistic frenzy, his lusts raging.

His mouth watered for her pink, glistening folds, for the shadowy little dip of her opening. He wanted to fall upon her, devour her. His fangs ached to prick her; he’d suck on her welling flesh. His cock surged, desperate to sink into her virgin core.

When he took her luscious scent into him, he felt the beginning tremors in the base of his shaft, seed rising against his will.

About to spill? Before I’m even to kiss?

He somehow restrained himself. In an unrecognizable voice, he repeated what he’d told her the first night he’d found her: “I’ve had a sample of your taste, drag? mea. Now I feast. . . .”

She peeked her head up, worrying her lip. “Daciano?”

But he’d already lowered his head. When he opened his mouth and pressed it to her sex, she gasped. With his first hungry lick of her heat, he groaned, “A mea! Dulcea mea.” Mine! My sweet.

She collapsed back with a moan of delight. “Yes, vampire, yes. . . .”

Her taste was indescribable; her essence was like a current ripping through him—tightening every muscle in his body, enlivening every dancing nerve.

Even as he tongued her with abandon, he somehow kept his fangs in check. Even when he opened his mouth wide to cover her, he didn’t graze her tender flesh.

So long I’ve waited for this. He gazed up to see her reaction. Arms stretched over her head, she arched her back. Her breasts moved sensuously, her puckered nipples jutting toward the folly roof.