Page 18 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Four

He drops into the wingback chair in the corner of the room and slouches into the curve of the wing, watching me with a cool, distant interest.

“Bran.”

“Now what, little mouse?” he challenges.

“I thought…” I pull myself up into a sitting position and lean my back against the headboard.

“You thought what? That you’d disobey me and reap some kind of benefit from it?”

Oh, the devil is here, ladies and gentlemen, and he’s taunting me. It causes a flare of joy to light in my chest. This is the Bran I know and love and it gives me hope that we’ll be all right, no matter how much things are changing.

“It was certainly implied,” I say.

His long legs are bent at the knee but splayed open, giving me a clear view of his crotch where a bulge is showing.

“Why torture us both?” I ask.

“You must know by now, little mouse, that I can be a very patient man.” His voice is husky, his eyes glinting with a hint of the vampire gold I’ve come to love.

But he’s right—I do know just how patient he can be.

“So you’re just going to sit there with a hard-on and watch me suffer?”

“Yes.”

I try to cross my arms over my chest in an act of annoyance, but the chain isn’t long enough and I’m too far to the center of the bed. The chain snaps and rattles. I scoot closer to the edge.

Bran props his elbow on the chair’s arm and brings his long, elegant fingers to the curve of his jaw.

It’s hard not to stare at him when he’s at rest, when I can appreciate every sharp edge, every masculine curve, every dark shadow that makes up the whole of Bran Duval.

My heart beats a little harder and I get a flash of when he had me on my knees in the bathroom, ordering me to stick my tongue out for him.

I feel new slickness between my legs and close my eyes, trying to draw the thoughts away and somehow overrule biology and instinct.

But it’s useless.

I can feel the weight of his gaze on me. His hunger. I can smell him everywhere in this room and everywhere on my skin.

I may be, apparently, an extremely powerful being, but I am powerless against Bran.

If I were a drug addict, my drug of choice would be the very hot-as-hell vampire sitting just out of my reach.

I want to fuck him.

I want to fuck him all of the time.

And he knows it.

I arch my back purposefully, letting my legs drop open so that the skirt of my dress slips up my thighs, revealing the now damp triangle of fabric at my center.

His gaze immediately sinks to my panties and his nostrils flare, taking in my scent. But his body is held impossibly still.

I grab the hem of my dress and pull it even higher until it’s bunched around my hips.

Still, he hasn’t moved, but the hard ridge of his cock is clearly straining against the front of his pants.

With a wiggle of my hips, I shimmy out of my panties, taking my time slipping them down the length of my calves, then over my feet. When they’re off, I sink back against the pillows, ball the fabric in my free hand, and toss them.

---