“You did?” he purrs, appearing from my right and scaring the shit out of me. I immediately bolt to my left, springing away from him. “Did you fuck me in this dream?”
“I killed you in it,” I say instead. “I cut your head right off.”
He laughs. “Kinky. I like it.” I glance over my shoulder to find him gone again. “I so enjoy this game, Beastie,” he sighs.
He appears in front of me, dropping down from the pipes. Eyes widening, I slide to a stop and turn, sprinting back the way I’d come.
“But,” he continues, disappearing again, “I yearn to taste you more than I yearn for this chase.”
I round a corner and slam right into his chest. Before I can bounce back, his arms come around me, gripping me firmly.
“Wait!” I cry as he leans down.
“Why?” he purrs. “I’ve waited long enough.”
“I lied!” I say, scrambling for something to allow me enough time to put the collar on him. If he sees me doing it, he’ll stop me.
He pauses. “About what, Beastie?” he asks, curious.
“I didn’t kill you in the dream,” I breathe, thinking fast. “I . . . I . . . we kissed.”
The slow grin that pulls at his lips tells me it’s working. “Oh?”
I nod frantically. “I woke up so wet,” I say. “Dripping.”
His chest rumbles with a growl. “Did you soak the bedsheets because of me?”
“I did,” I say. “I made such a mess.”
“As you should,” he groans. “Perhaps I shall keep you alive long enough to taste how you weep between these thighs for me.”
I moan, tipping my head back. “I just . . . before you drain me, I just want to know what it’s like.”
“What what’s like?” he purrs, drawing me closer. “Fucking me?”
“Kissing you,” I moan. “Please. Just one kiss.”
His eyes grow hooded. “I’m a Leech, Beastie. A kisswillturn deadly.”
“I know,” I breathe. “I know.”
His hand slides up my body, tracing my skin, making my breathing erratic. Funny thing is, I don’t even have to pretend to be turned on. I am. Which makes me a fucking idiot, but it does make this more convincing.
“It would be my pleasure,” he murmurs. His hand cradles the back of my skull and he leans down toward me.
I think I prepare myself for the kiss. One of my hands rests against his chest. My other one is in my pocket wrapped around the collar. But when his lips touch mine, for a moment, I forget what I’m doing. Fireworks explode behind my eyes and I moan, sinking into the kiss fully. I shouldn’t be surprised that Stryker is a good kisser. He’s all charisma and liquid seduction. He has to be to lure his prey, but it almost shuts my brain function down.
Until I feel the barest sip of my life force.
“Vesper,” Svetlana hisses, interrupting my brain fog.
I trail my hand from his chest up to his shoulder, resting it there. I pull my other hand out of my pocket and carefully move it upwards as Stryker moans and kisses me deeper. He sips again and my legs grow weak.
I’m running out of time.
The collar is big, too big for his neck, but that just makes it easier for me to get it in position without him feeling anything resting against him. I moan deeply into his mouth and his hand sinks down to my ass, pressing me against the hard cock in his trousers.
My fingers fumble with the buckle, and then I loop it, but I still have to fasten it completely.
