Waiting in the Wings (Soulgirls) by Heather Long

resentfulness popped the balloon of sin she basked in. A growl vibrated in her throat, and she wrenched herself free of his caresses and rolled him over. Straddling his hips, she wrapped her hand around his cock and stroked him from base to tip, watching him.
    A lazy, wanton smile curved his lips upward. He trailed two fingers against her cheek. “What do you want, darling?”
    “I want you. I want to know you the way you know me.” She dragged her nails down his chest, leaving three red welts on the taut muscle. She rolled her thumb against the crown of his cock, spreading the dampness over the tip. Her teeth ground together—
    She wanted to bite him.
    But she had no fangs.
    He sat up, catching her mouth in a hard kiss and working their lips together until her jaw relaxed. Another moan worked free, and she guided his cock to her entrance, rubbing him against her sex until they were both soaked and panting. He pushed her hands aside and positioned himself, thrusting into her in one swift stroke that left her gasping for air. He clamped his hands on her hips and seated himself deep inside—and then stopped moving.
    Her gaze jerked to his, and she snarled. Her nipples ached, wanting his attention, and her sex clamped down on him, squeezing, and she wanted to move—to thrust and ride until they fell over the edge. But he resisted her attempts to thrust, holding the door to their mutual pleasure locked and barred.
    Tangling his fingers into her hair, he guided her mouth to his throat. “Take what you want, darling…”
    “I can’t.” Despair twisted inside of her. She tested her tongue against her teeth, but they remained flat, squared off and even the scent of him—musk, masculine and aroused—didn’t draw them out.
    “You can.” He soothed, his free hand trailed caresses up and down her spine and his body withdrew and then thrust up inside of her hard.
    She moaned, opening her lips to draw a sucking kiss against his neck.
    “Take what you want.”
    The salty taste of his skin teased her, and she grazed the flesh with her teeth. He jerked against her and flipped them over so he seated deep between thighs. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and he angled his throat to stay with her mouth.
    “Harder.” The order reverberated through her as he drove himself in to the hilt. She bit down, terrified of hurting him—she couldn’t puncture his throat—not like he had…
    “Again.” He growled and thrust.
    She dug her nails into his back and started to pull away, but his fingers tightened in her hair and he dragged her mouth against his throat. Her mouth throbbed, in tune with every thrust he drove into her. Stars danced across her vision; her whole body shook with tremors of need—awareness of every brush of their skin. The pounding of his heart echoed against her ears, and she reared her head back and clamped onto his throat. Her teeth elongated, sharpening in a burst of pain, and she pierced his skin.
    Moaning, she tasted him. Her head spun with the dizzying connection. His blood tasted like the sweetest nectar. It spilled across her tongue, and she rode the shockwave rocking through her body. His thrusts grew more fevered, but she drowned against the intensity of the feeling. A doorway opened inside of her, and he flooded her with pleasure. She saw herself, standing inside a rustic bar, bound breasts pushed up against the corset and grinning saucily at him.
    She danced to some jaunty tune. Weaving in and out of the tables. Men occasionally tried to grab her. She always slapped them away with a smile and a flippant comment. A shyness in her eyes when she looked up at him and a breathless wonder.
    The images flipped at her so fast, she couldn’t comprehend them all, and they tumbled her over, the intensity doubling and redoubling.
    Her heart echoed the frantic pace of his. Mine…always mine…
    She didn’t know whose thought that was, but it plunged over the edge with her as her body came apart, a second