Page 36 of Her Vampire, His Ruin

Our tongues collide as Edie reaches up and yanks me closer. Whatever doubts she was feeling towards me moments ago seem to evaporate as she rocks her hips against my hand, chasing the orgasm I know she’s on the verge of having. Thank fuck I drank a litre of blood before I came tonight or things could turn dangerous very quickly.

“You’re so damn receptive to my touch,” I groan against her lips, my cock so fucking hard it’s painful. “I want to eat you out so bad.”

“Then, please, come inside,” she whispers, her eyes rolling in the back of her head as I lower my lips to her pulse and scrape my teeth against her skin. I can feel her blood thrumming beneath my lips, and the reckless side of me, the dangerous side, wants to come out to play. I bite harder.

“Dorian, please,” she begs, gasping from the pain, trembling from the pleasure.

Despite everything telling me I should leave, I can’t bring myself to deny her another orgasm, not after what she told me. So, with an absolute determination to get her off, I continue to fuck her with my fingers. The slick sound of her pussy and the warmth of it makes me fucking crazy with the need to let my fangs fall, to sink them into her neck.

This is dangerous. Irresponsible.

Still, I feel a restless urge to break free, to cast off my restraints and take what I want.

But I can’t. I can’t.

“Dorian, I think I’m going to…” she pants, gripping my arms as she trembles beneath me.

“Come? I want you to come, Edie,” I grind out, my voice barely recognisable. “I want you to come all over my hand, and I want you to remember what this feels like. This is the first of many,” I growl against her skin, my fingers stroking her in a steady rhythm, knowing this is what she needs more than anything. To feel worshipped. To feel adored. To give in to her base needs. To fucking come.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she pants.

My head snaps up. “Look at me, Edie,” I command, the sharpness of my desire making my voice rough. Her eyes fly open, and she whimpers. “You say my name, and only my name when you come.”

“Dorian,” she cries, her eyes rolling back in her head as her whole body stiffens, her core fluttering around my fingers, her thighs holding my hand prisoner as she finally gives in to the sensation, and fuck, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed in my entire life.

A single tear slips from her eye, and I capture the salty jewel with my tongue, savouring it. If this is what orgasming does to her, I’d gladly drown in an ocean of them.

“I want more,” I murmur against her lips. “I want all of your orgasms. Every damn one. I want you to know from this moment on, every orgasm you have belongs to me, and only me.”

A familiar prickle scatters down my spine, the urge to impale my fangs in her neck becoming almost impossible to resist. I ease backwards, dragging in a deep breath as I gently remove my fingers from her dripping cunt. Her arousal lifts into the air, bringing with it the scent of something else. My nostrils flare as something sharp and familiar coils at the back of my tongue.

Metal. Heat.

My vision blurs at the edges, the world narrowing to the frantic thrum beneath her skin, and then I understand.

Blood.

I drop my gaze to my hand to find a slick trail of crimson covering my fingers. She’s menstruating.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Dangerous bloodlust unfurls within me as darkness clouds my vision and prickles of heat erupt beneath my skin, burning me up with desire. With irrepressible need.

My temples throb. Every muscle in my body is straining against the need to claim her. My fingers itch to touch her again. I can feel the dangerous onslaught of my true nature fighting for dominance as my gums sting and my canines begin to elongate.

Take her, that wicked voice inside of me demands.

I have to get out of here.

“Fuck,” I hiss, willing my fangs to recede. I’m losing my fucking mind trying to keep the monster within me from breaking free.

“Dorian?” she whispers.

“You need to go,” I snap, refusing to look at her, suffocating on the thick, vibrant scent of her blood.

“What’s happening right now? Why are you being so… cold?” she asks, reaching for me. I hear the confusion in her voice and hate myself for it.

I’m not cold, at least not in the way she thinks. I’m unravelling. The craving to cross forbidden lines with her sets me on a knife’s edge as I fight to keep myself contained. One wrong move and we’ll both be sliced open. When her fingers brush my arm, a shiver rips through me, and the darkness within me pounds against the walls of my self-control.