He licks me like he’s starving. Long, slow strokes that drag through my wetness and circle my clit before pulling away. Again and again until I’m shaking, until my thighs are trembling on either side of his head, until I’m making sounds I don’t recognize.
“Seth—I need—please—”
He slides two fingers inside me.
I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me without warning—my back arching off the bed, my hands fisting in his hair, his name tearing out of my throat. He works me through it, tongue still moving, fingers curling against that spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyes.
When I finally come down, he’s pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs. Waiting.
“Get up here,” I manage.
He crawls up my body. His cock drags against my leg, my hip, my stomach—leaving a wet trail that makes me clench with anticipation. When his face is above mine, I pull him down and kiss him, tasting myself on his tongue.
“I need you inside me,” I whisper against his mouth. “Now.”
He reaches between us. I feel the head of him notch against my entrance and we both freeze.
“Bree—” His voice is wrecked. Shaking. “I don’t know if I can control the feeding. Not with you. Not when it matters this much.”
I cup his face in my hands. Make him look at me.
“Then don’t control it. Let it happen. I trust you.”
His eyes close. A full-body shudder runs through him.
Then he pushes inside.
The stretch is almost too much.
He’s bigger than I’m used to—my body resists for a moment before something releases and he slides deeper. I gasp. He freezes.
“Okay?” His voice is tight. Controlled. “Am I hurting you?”
“No. Don’t stop.Don’t stop.”
He presses forward. Inch by inch. Filling me so completely I can’t breathe. When he’s finally seated all the way inside me, we both go still.
His forehead drops to mine. His whole body is trembling.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You feel—I can’t—”
“Move.”
He pulls back slowly. Pushes in again. The drag of him inside me sends sparks shooting up my spine.
“More,” I demand. “Harder.”
He obeys.
His hips snap forward and I cry out—pleasure and fullness and the perfect edge of too much. He sets a rhythm that has me clawing at his back, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper with every thrust.
The bond flares between us.
I feel it like a physical thing—silver light pulsing in my chest, reaching for him, wrapping around us both. And underneath it, something else. His hunger. Something older. Darker. The vampire in him waking up.
His mouth drags down my throat. Open. Hot. His breath comes in harsh pants against my pulse point.
