“Gods,” I sputter the word like a prayer, fangs throbbing as lust of all kinds short-circuits my nervous system. Celine is a vision in my shirt. I want her as I’ve never wanted anything, and now that I’ve tasted her, I fear no one else will compare.
Kicking my underwear off, I wall off the pain and slide my hands under the shirt to touch her. Her breasts are perfect in my hands, soft and warm. I roll her nipples between my fingers, pinching lightly.
“Show me what you like,” I beg, desperate to please her.
Celine brings her hands up, guiding my fingers. She starts with light, teasing touches, then forces my fingers together, arching silently as she directs me to pinch her nipple harder than I would have dared on my own. Soft then hard. She’s a study in contradictions.
My cock stands up, aching for relief. It can wait. I don’t want this to end. Hard. Soft. I continue touching her, watching her face go slack with pleasure.
Abruptly, Celine yanks my right hand down her body, making brief detours on the sensitive skin of her stomach and the curve of her inner thigh. She stops me inches from my destination.
“Are you wet for me, angel?” I ask, so wrapped up in her, I barely remember to keep my voice down.
“Find out,” she taunts, rocking confidently back on her heels until my T-shirt barely rakes the top of her thighs.
I trace the line of muscle up her leg, then explore the inner crease of her thigh. She trembles at my touch. With my eyes locked on her face, I dip the tip of my finger inside her, then retreat. “Show me,” I repeat.
Celine’s hand joins mine without hesitation. Straddling me here on my bed in my faded shirt, she isn’t angry or untouchable. She’s mine.
As if she can sense my hunger for her, Celine guides two of my fingers inside her pussy, then drags her index finger up to her clit. She uses her other hand to pull the hem of the shirt up just enough so I can watch.
“I want you to push me,” she says, a hitch in her voice that I want to devour. “Almost more than I can handle.”
“What about a stretch?” I ask, teasing her wet entrance with a third finger.
She nods, her chin dropping as I work all three fingers in. “That’s good.” She pants, increasing the pressure and speed of her finger on her clit as I stuff her full.
“What if I do this?” I curl my fingers until I feel the rougher textured spot inside her, then tap it insistently. Celine stiffens, gasps, then rubs herself harder.
“T-that’s great, Ali. Don’t stop.”
“Never,” I swear, committing the exact rhythm, angle, and depth to memory. I won’t deviate from it until she comes. If the angel assassins rose from the dead and burst through the door, I don’t think I could stop.
“Remember to be quiet,” I whisper, “so they don’t know you’re riding my fingers while your tight pussy begs for more.”
Celine’s mouth drops open in a silent cry, and her innermuscles spasm. Without letting her come down, I replace my fingers with my cock, shuddering as she rides me through the aftershocks.
“Yes,” she hisses, the word drawn out.
I hold still even though I’m desperate to ram into her like a mindless animal. She rolls her hips, finding the perfect rhythm in no time, and I shudder. When she smiles at me, the expression is unlike any I’ve ever seen on her face before. It’s completely unguarded. I don’t know how long it will last, but for now, I’m behind her wall.
That dangerous possessiveness sinks its claws into my chest. My throat burns as if I’m gargling gasoline. The idea of claiming her forever snaps the final fraying thread of my control.
“May I?” I gasp, running my thumb over her throat, my fangs throbbing.
“Bite me,” she says, bending over to press her pulse to my lips.
Heart racing, I slide my fangs in deep, pushing past skin and muscle. The second her blood hits my tongue, I groan with relief. I drink from her neck, breathless, my whole body throbbing with desire.
Celine clenches around me, panting and rewarding me with desperate mews. She brings both hands to my hair and pulls hard. I feel the sting even as her blood quenches my thirst.
My hand crawls to the back of her neck to hold her close. Her rough, unspoken demand settles the predator I keep hidden. Celine is strong, someone I can trust to keep us safe when I’m too tired to carry on alone.
“You’re perfect,” I whisper, taking one last drag from her vein, then pulling my fangs free. I lick the puncture wounds closed and meet her eyes. Her pupils dilate, and Celine comes again, her chest trembling against mine as she contracts around my cock.
Helpless to resist, I follow her over the edge.
Celine collapses against me, and I stroke her hair absently,ignoring the painful pull in my gut. I can smell myself on her skin, and I like it. Once our position sinks in, she stiffens. “Oh shit! I’m crushing you.”
