Page 53 of Princess Broken

My tongue laps out to taste his skin, and he moans deeply, his body vibrating against mine as he holds me tightly against him, running back to their apartment. He’s running quickly, dodging obstacles in our path. Even if I were rude enough to dig my fangs into him now, I might rip a hole in his throat, causing the spillage he earlier joked about.

The moment we’re back inside their apartment, he sets me down on a large leather sofa.

I lick my lips in anticipation. But he backs away.

“Fuck.” He runs both hands through his blond curls, the muscles in his arms flexing under his long sleeved shirt.

Never has a man looked better to me. My hips circle on the sofa, the wetness there increasing, my insides throbbing. I need blood, but I need Flame too. My awakened libido is on overdrive alongside my thirst.

“Listen,” he says. “I’ll feed you, but after, I can’t…”

I nod as if I’m agreeing, but don’t. Not right now. Not one bit.

“After.” His voice deepens, grows hoarse. “I’ll do what I can to relieve you, but I won’t…” His hands rake through his hair again. The conflict inside him is so strong it slams into me across the distance between us.

“Don’t worry,” I reassure him. “I don’t usually need sex after feeding.”

The relief that comes over Flame is palpable. What I told him is absolutely true—until recently. Another lie of omission. I take deep breaths to regain my composure.

I can control myself. I survived a hundred years of vampiric life without having sex, I can do it now, even if a big part of me hopes that Flame won’t be able to hold back. That way, I won’t have to.

“I don’t know if…” He shakes his head. “Never mind. I’ll be fine.”

“Do you…” An idea flashes. “Do you need to feed too?”

He shakes his head sharply, but his lips part, revealing his lie. Even if he doesn’t need to, he wants to. His fangs have fully extended, and the look in his eyes excites me even more than it scares me. Every nerve in my body is now focused in two places, my fangs and the space between my legs, and both are throbbing so hard I can barely hear or think about anything else.

Flame wants to eat me—he wants to devour me whole. And, even more shocking, I want him to do it. At this moment, I would give up my body, my life—gladly—to provide a meal for this vampire. Every instinct inside me says the pleasure would be well worth sacrificing my life.

“Ana…”

I reach toward him.

Springing forward, Flame pulls me up and into his arms, and then sits with me across his lap. That happens so quickly, I’m left breathless and even more aroused. Then he lifts me higher against his chest, moving my mouth near his throat, and I give up any attempt to resist, any worry of what might follow after.

I dig in my fangs, and Flame groans. Blood spurts into my mouth, and then flows more steadily as my hunger turns ravenous. Using my tongue to control the speed of the flow, I draw his blood toward my throat, sucking hard on his artery, loving Flame’s smoky, meaty taste.

His blood tastes of fire.

Clearly I’ve never tasted a fire, but the flames licking inside my body are beyond any reason or denial. His chest vibrates, pulsating against my body, increasing my pleasure. My hard nipples scrape against the fabric between us, increasing the hot wetness between my legs.

My mind slowly clears from the fog of first taste, and I slow my pace, licking his skin as I swallow. His hand is between my thighs. Has it been there all along?

My legs tense. I should draw them together, but instead they separate, welcoming his touch. The dress presses against my outer thighs and slides higher toward my hips.

His hand tightens its hold around one of my thighs, almost like he’s trying to fight against moving it closer to my sex, and so I shift my hips, trying to rub his knuckles against my underwear, which must be completely soaked from my increasing dampness.

My blood hunger is beyond satiated, so I release my fangs and lick his wounds, loving how even his neck muscles are strong, so hard, so alive. Flame’s still holding me tightly against him, and so, daring myself, I slide my hand between us, exploring the surface of his chest through his t-shirt and wanting my fingers to discover if he’s hard.

My hand reaches a spot where there’s no room between us. He’s holding me so close that my hand can’t go lower without his cooperation. So I rest my palm there, loving how I can feel his heart beating, his skin heating, and sense as his blood replenishes itself after I claimed so much.

His one hand still gripping my thigh and the other around my back, Flame shifts me away from his body, separating us slightly.

A whimper bubbles up from inside me, and I look up into his eyes, pleading for him to keep our bodies close.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

I shake my head and then I clutch at the fabric over his chest, wanting to feel the skin beneath his t-shirt more than I’ve wanted anything in my entire life. I want to tug up the t-shirt, but don’t dare.

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