Page 40 of The Kill

Tyson swallows hard, the wooden table groaning under the strength of his vice-like grip. Sitting back, I pop a strawberry into my mouth, making a ridiculous display of wrapping my lips around it before taking a bite. I feel absurd but it has the desired effect, and he growls, pupils dark and breathing uneven.

“Except, since you turned me down last night, I take it you’re not interested,” I taunt with a shrug.

His red eyes flash to mine, the fire burning in them enough to scorch me alive.

“Not interested in feeding from you,” he repeats, as though the words themselves make no sense to him. “Not interested? I was so not interested I had to take care of myself again in the shower after I carried you back to your room.”

Again? What the hell happened last night?

My pussy throbs with the memory of… something. I just don’t know what.

Tyson stands slowly, and the bulge at the front of his trousers tells me he’s feeling the same right now.

“Do you know what I was thinking about doing when I was stroking my aching cock, alone, in my dark shower?”

Tyson walks toward me, but instead of stopping at my side, he stands behind me and brushes my hair out of the way so he can trail his fingertips from my jaw down to my shoulder. Shaking my head, I’m barely breathing, the anticipation of what he’s going to do next, and the tingles of pleasure from his touch, rendering me speechless.

“I’m pretty sure you do.”

His tone is commanding and I’m completely in his thrall. Convinced, now, that my decision last night to give in to this is the right thing, the only thing I can do, I dredge up enough confidence to utter the answer I know is true.

“Me,” I mumble, right as his lips brush across the place where my mating mark will go. He growls against my skin, telling me I’m right.

“You. Specifically, that pretty pussy of yours, and the little display you put on for me last night when I was trying to get you tucked back up in bed.”

Shame washes over me, dousing my arousal like water on a flame, and I go to stand. But Tyson is faster, tipping back the chair, and I shriek, gripping the arms as my feet dangle in the air.

Balanced precariously on two legs, the chair wobbles in Tyson’s grip.

“I licked you,” he admits. “I couldn’t help myself. Your pussy is the best thing I’ve ever tasted, on par with, if not better than, your heavenly blood.”

My jaw hangs open in disbelief at the words coming out of his mouth.

“I shouldn’t have, but you’re my mate, Mandy. I only have so much willpower, and you begged me.”

Reeling from the images of this all playing conjuring in my mind, I jump when his teeth scrape my neck once more, and his soft lips brush my heated skin.

“Was that wrong? If you dream of me again, want me to take care of you, should I ignore you? Let you suffer? I did let you have your fun with me first. Fair is fair.”

Common sense tells me I should be furious. He knew I wasn’t in control, but… as I drown in his scent, my wolf screams at me that this man is ours, to take him and claim him. Instead of raging at him, I stretch my head to the side, giving him better access to my vulnerable neck.

“Once I’m marked, I think you should take what you want, whenever you want,” I whisper.

Tyson’s hand reaches around to cup my breast, his thumb brushing over my stiff nipple. My head falls further, and my insides coil tight, being this close to my mate, still unmarked, still not filled by him, is torture.

“And until then?” His words are barely more than a growl, deep and husky, thick with lust and desperation.

“What do you mean?” My brain is mush. All I can think of is him, how good he feels, how good he makes me feel. Keeping up with this very simple conversation is a struggle.

“I can’t go tonight with a mark on my neck, but I need something or I’m going to lose my mind.”

He’s still behind me, his mouth moving against the shell of my ear as his hands roam my body, exploring every dip and curve. The way I’m still teetering on two legs, with only Tyson stopping me from falling, has my adrenaline pumping. That and anticipation of what he’s going to do when I utter my next words.

Relaxing my death grip on the arms of the chair, I let go and reach over my head, running my fingers through Tyson’s black hair, holding his head close to my neck and his mouth right where I want it.

“What if you marked me? And fed,” I whisper. Tyson freezes, his pulse thudding so hard in his chest that I can feel it against my back. The vibration that starts deep in his belly tells me his wolf likes the sound of that. “And I’ll make you mine as soon as you get home. That can be your incentive to hurry back.”

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