heartbeat, knew she
allowed
him to. Knew too—when she tilted her head ever so slightly, exposing the pale as moonlight skin of her throat—she’d done it to excite as well as soothe.
He had a boy’s control around her when she did that. He knew the cost. The tracery of scars on her back were merely part of the ways growing up with an Ancient Vampire’s idea of discipline scarred her. That she was as open and trusting with him was a testament not to him, but to her. Rowan was as ever, a phoenix. A being of fire and change. Death and rebirth.
He licked up her neck, pressing the tip of his tongue against the juicy, fat vein, his incisors grazing to either side.
Her breath came from her lips, shaky. Her skin pebbled against his mouth. He wanted to taste her so badly he nearly shook with it. Knew from one, accidental nick of her lip the first time he’d ever kissed her that she was rich and delicious.
“Are you thinking of it?” she asked, voice gone sultry.
Taunting. His skin heated and he groaned. Human women could be vicious at times. Some were quite good at mimicking that casual tease with a little bit of an edge. But he’d never met anyone but a Vampire who could do it without an effort.
Until she taunted him with the blood she’d not given him access to.
See this
,
Scion?
Hmmm?
Don’t you want it on your tongue?
He knew that’s what she meant when she’d asked him if he was thinking of it. And yes he was.
“Yes. You know I am.” He squeezed her biceps and she shivered, stuttering a sigh. “You’ve had me on your tongue. Inside you. I’m in you still.” He kissed to the hollow just below her ear.
“Y-yes.”
He stilled for long moments. That admission...for her to give that to him after all she’d endured. For her to say it and the longing, the satisfaction that he gave her with that, with his lifeblood drove at him.
“Shall I tell you what you taste like?” she whispered, her pulse hammering against his lips.
“Yes.”
“Coppery. Sweet. There’s a slight spice to you. Cardamom maybe. But you taste like London underneath all that. Like soot and smoke and black cabs and great pubs. You taste like expensive leather goods and private clubs with heavy snifters of top shelf brandy aged with blood. You taste like class and money and power. A lot of power.”
He pressed her harder to the wall, nearly snarling as the breath whooshed from her lips. He rolled his hips, grinding himself against her. She slid one of her legs up his, meeting his thrust.
A groan stuttered from her lips as he knew he stroked over her clit.
She opened her eyes and met his gaze straight on. He nipped her bottom lip and she slid her fingers through his hair, tugging him back to look into his face again.
It hit her then, this game they’d played that got them both off so hard. Dancing on the edge of breaking her skin but never crossing the line. No matter how much she knew he wanted it.
He made her feel safe.
Struck still for long moments, she let that sink in.
No one had ever made her feel safe. And here, in the unlikeliest of males, she found it and though she’d known it for some time, the acceptance of it, and the need to give back to him even a part of what he gave to her drove her.
“You never ask.”
“I know what it would cost. You don’t need to pay that price with me.”
Rowan swallowed hard. There had been a time in her life—mostly all of it until that moment—where a Vampire taking her blood didn’t involve her consent. Or her pleasure. It had been about punishment or manipulation in some sense. It had always felt like a violation.
But it was integral to who Clive was and though he was a Vampire, he wasn’t anything like those who’d used her like she meant nothing at all.
The way they teased had worked itself into foreplay and every time he tortured them both but never violated her trust allowed her to accept the deliciously carnal taboo of it.
Talking about how he tasted had only
allowed
him to. Knew too—when she tilted her head ever so slightly, exposing the pale as moonlight skin of her throat—she’d done it to excite as well as soothe.
He had a boy’s control around her when she did that. He knew the cost. The tracery of scars on her back were merely part of the ways growing up with an Ancient Vampire’s idea of discipline scarred her. That she was as open and trusting with him was a testament not to him, but to her. Rowan was as ever, a phoenix. A being of fire and change. Death and rebirth.
He licked up her neck, pressing the tip of his tongue against the juicy, fat vein, his incisors grazing to either side.
Her breath came from her lips, shaky. Her skin pebbled against his mouth. He wanted to taste her so badly he nearly shook with it. Knew from one, accidental nick of her lip the first time he’d ever kissed her that she was rich and delicious.
“Are you thinking of it?” she asked, voice gone sultry.
Taunting. His skin heated and he groaned. Human women could be vicious at times. Some were quite good at mimicking that casual tease with a little bit of an edge. But he’d never met anyone but a Vampire who could do it without an effort.
Until she taunted him with the blood she’d not given him access to.
See this
,
Scion?
Hmmm?
Don’t you want it on your tongue?
He knew that’s what she meant when she’d asked him if he was thinking of it. And yes he was.
“Yes. You know I am.” He squeezed her biceps and she shivered, stuttering a sigh. “You’ve had me on your tongue. Inside you. I’m in you still.” He kissed to the hollow just below her ear.
“Y-yes.”
He stilled for long moments. That admission...for her to give that to him after all she’d endured. For her to say it and the longing, the satisfaction that he gave her with that, with his lifeblood drove at him.
“Shall I tell you what you taste like?” she whispered, her pulse hammering against his lips.
“Yes.”
“Coppery. Sweet. There’s a slight spice to you. Cardamom maybe. But you taste like London underneath all that. Like soot and smoke and black cabs and great pubs. You taste like expensive leather goods and private clubs with heavy snifters of top shelf brandy aged with blood. You taste like class and money and power. A lot of power.”
He pressed her harder to the wall, nearly snarling as the breath whooshed from her lips. He rolled his hips, grinding himself against her. She slid one of her legs up his, meeting his thrust.
A groan stuttered from her lips as he knew he stroked over her clit.
She opened her eyes and met his gaze straight on. He nipped her bottom lip and she slid her fingers through his hair, tugging him back to look into his face again.
It hit her then, this game they’d played that got them both off so hard. Dancing on the edge of breaking her skin but never crossing the line. No matter how much she knew he wanted it.
He made her feel safe.
Struck still for long moments, she let that sink in.
No one had ever made her feel safe. And here, in the unlikeliest of males, she found it and though she’d known it for some time, the acceptance of it, and the need to give back to him even a part of what he gave to her drove her.
“You never ask.”
“I know what it would cost. You don’t need to pay that price with me.”
Rowan swallowed hard. There had been a time in her life—mostly all of it until that moment—where a Vampire taking her blood didn’t involve her consent. Or her pleasure. It had been about punishment or manipulation in some sense. It had always felt like a violation.
But it was integral to who Clive was and though he was a Vampire, he wasn’t anything like those who’d used her like she meant nothing at all.
The way they teased had worked itself into foreplay and every time he tortured them both but never violated her trust allowed her to accept the deliciously carnal taboo of it.
Talking about how he tasted had only
Similar Books
