Page 108 of Waltzing With Witches

Gray eyes flash. “Do you only bite lovers? Do you ever just feed?”

“Yes and not really. There are couples with feeder relationships, but it’s uncommon. For us, blood and sex are intertwined. One without the other is…improper.”

Her dark brow lifts. “Improper, huh?”

“Think about it for a moment,” I murmur, fisting her hair in my hand. Pushing forward, I stand her up and use my free hand to shove her jeans off her pretty thighs. I hold eye contact as I place her on the edge of the stool opposite mine. When I slip my fingers between her thighs, they’re already coated in rich, slick honey.

Even seated, I’m more than a head taller than her, so it’s easy to lean down and nuzzle her neck playfully. “You’re wet.”

“No shit,” she barks. “I’ve been wet for hours, Abemet.”

Since she arrived, I’ve been studying her tone. I used to have such a high emotional quotient, but I lost that in the transition. I know every dip and rise of her voice now, though. Sarcasm and that tone equal frustration.

“Do you need to be filled, Morgan?” I purr into her ear as I slide my fingers into her sopping channel.

Her body rolls to meet mine as she emits a needy whine.

“Do you want my mouth first, witch? Is the teasing too much?”

“It is,” she grunts when I curl my fingers to rub slow circles over her G-spot. “Oh, fuck! I need your teeth, Abe! I need to know!”

“Let’s get to bed, then,” I murmur, shifting to rise.

She brings her face up to level me with a gaze. “Do it right here, mate. This feels right to me, being in the room where we had our first conversation with Ben.”

Blood rushes through me, my heartbeat thudding in my ears as my gaze narrows to the spot on her neck I long fantasized about.

“Shirt off,” I command. “We might ruin it.” I run both hands through my hair—I am unexpectedly nervous. What if the virus isn’t all gone? What if a particle remains, and this moment of bliss dooms her?

She reads me like a book. “I promise you’re good, Abe. It wanted out; it was happy to leave because it couldn’t destroy you fast enough.”

I jolt, emotions too numerous to process slamming me one after another. Guilt. Grief. Fear. Joy. Happiness.

Hope.

Desire.

I stand and pull my shirt over my shoulders, depositing it on the floor. Morgan does the same, watchful as I move my hands to my pants, unfastening the button.

“Strip poker is our next game night,” she says in a playful tone. “I love the idea of kicking your ass and staring at your naked body.”

I chuckle and slip the zipper down, cupping my aching balls. “News flash. I’ve been alive for thousands of years, Morgan. I’ve mastered nearly every game that exists.”

“Gee,” she deadpans. “Confident much?”

“In my skills, yes.” I shove my pants all the way off and settle back onto the stool next to hers, my thighs encasing her body. Reaching for her, I pull her into my lap and slide one hand to the back of her neck. The other goes around her ass so I can play with her back hole while I bite her.

“A bite from me means instant release,” I remind her.

A throaty chuckle is her answer. “So if Pietro bit me, I wouldn’t come?”

My fangs split my jaw and descend so hard, I nearly pant from the pinch of it.

“Fuck no,” I bark. “And while vampires are huge fans of orgies, I draw my limit at him for allowing you to borrow his ziol. He should have known better.”

“I sought him out, Abe,” she says with a happy sigh. “He was being kind.”

Pfft. Kind, my ass.

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