Page 67 of Tempting the Dhampir

I’m all in.

With my mind set, I smile up at Everett, and in the coyest tone I can muster, I ask, “Can I suck your cock now, zooms?”

“Fuck, sweetheart. You never have to—”

I cut him off with the swipe of my tongue over the head of his cock, licking up the bead of precum that was beckoning me.

With a breathy moan, I confess, “You taste so good.”

My pussy is getting slick from that one taste of him.

Everett’s green eyes turn black, and his fangs descend. The air grows even thicker with our lust, our need for each other amplifying with every beat of our hearts.

I try to wrap my fingers around his cock, but he’s too thick, and I thank whatever power put this male in my life.

He’s going to ruin me with that anaconda in the best way.

I give his cock a small tug, and Everett’s head falls back as a beastly rumble claws up from deep in his chest. The sound is so primal that it makes my pussy gush.

“Sadie-queen…” is all he manages.

Moving my mouth to the twin of my tattoo on his thigh, I give it a chaste kiss before shifting and licking a straight line up from the base of his cock to the tip.

The hitch of Everett’s breath is like music to the deepest part of my soul. It makes me feel powerful. This gorgeous, strong male, giving me the reins to his body, makes me that much more confident in my decision to stay.

Eager hands shoot forward to my hair, his touch gentle as he smooths the strands out of my face and loosely gathers it into a ponytail, giving him an unobstructed view of what I’m about to do to him.

“Better hold on,” I say right before guiding him into my mouth and sucking.

I bob up and down, twist my hand around the base of his cock, and luxuriate in the sounds of Everett’s breathing rapidly growing more labored as he tries to keep from thrusting.

I alternate licking and sucking and test out methods to make him gasp, scraping my teeth along his length, taking him deep to hit the back of my throat, deeper. His legs are vibrating with the need to move, but he’s holding absolutely still, letting me take him how I want to.

My panties are soaked. I know the scent of my arousal must be seeping into the walls with how turned on I am from bringing him pleasure, and I bask in the feeling that this all could be mine.

That this is mine.

Taking a deep breath, I relax my throat and swallow him down as far as my throat can allow his thick length.

“Sweetheart, no, I don’t want to hurt you.” Everett eases his cock from my mouth. “I’m too big. I’d rather take care of you. Why are you still clothed?” he admonishes, his breathing still too rapid to sound stern.

“Don’t you want to fuck my throat, zooms?” I play pout, my voice husky with need.

“I’d rather fuck your delicious cunt, sweetheart.”

Without delay, I reach behind me and undo the clasps holding my top in place, tossing it to the corner with his clothes.

In front of me, Everett’s knees hit the floor, and his hands gravitate to my breasts, cupping, weighing, massaging them.

“These tits are perfect. Look at these rosy nipples, they’re begging me to taste them, aren’t they?”

Everett’s mouth finds a nipple, and he carefully sucks on it, then lightly scrapes a fang over it. The sensation sends a shudder through me and I whimper. He laves the sting with a swirl of his tongue, then repeats the motion on the other side.

I become a sobbing mess—whines, moans, mewls falling from my lips—the pleasant warmth of his mouth a delicious contrast to the scrapes of pain. My grip on Everett’s shoulders, his head, is strong, clawing, wanting more.

I push at his shoulder, and he moves back willingly, confusion and intrigue etching his face.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” I pant, nearly feral with need. A need for this male, a need to connect our most carnal beings. “Lie back.”

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