Page 78 of Barbi and the Villain

There’s an intensity to his gaze that renders me speechless—a mess of sensations, all foreign yet familiar at the same time.

My breath hitches.

There’s heat. Searing, insufferable heat. Yet the last thing I want is to cool off. No, I want to plunge myself into this inferno and never resurface—at least not whole.

The mark on my chest burns, lighting up under my dress, almost as if it can sense the proximity of his own mark. I bring my hand to his chest, draping it down his unbuttoned shirt and searching for that spot. As my palm makes contact with his mark, a zap of energy shocks me. His mark becomes alive as it twirls and slithers on his chest. Like a serpent, it curls over my palm, pulling me closer almost as if it wants to tie us together through an invisible threat.

He doesn’t look away.

I can’t either.

My hand against his naked skin, I feel every beat of his heart as he regards me.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

There’s an eerie exactitude to the rhythm of his heart, one that emulates mine to the beat.

He moves sinuously on top of me, placing his arm under me so he won’t squish me with his weight. His hard body blankets my own, his hips cradled between my legs.

He’s…hard.

“Nyk…”

“Mo,” he murmurs, lowering his head and breathing me in. “Mine. Mo. Mine.”

His lips hover over my face as he slowly slides lower and lower until he reaches my neck. His tongue peeks out to lick the spot right under my jaw.

My mind blanks on me as goose bumps cover my skin, thrills of pleasure shooting through me.

He wraps his lips around my skin, drawing it into his mouth and nibbling at it with his teeth. At first, it’s playful bites. But as his fangs protrude and sink into my skin, I feel a sharp pain that is quickly replaced by sheer pleasure.

“Nyk.” I gasp, arching my back against him, holding him close and willing him to never stop.

The blood leaves my body, transferring into his, and the connection between us strengthens. His mark pulses under my palm. My mark burns as it seeks more of his touch.

“Mine,” he whispers sensually, making me blush uncontrollably.

He licks the wound on my neck languidly as it heals and he drags his fangs across my skin, more blood pooling to the surface. His own skin breaks, too, in response.

“Drink,” he commands in a rough voice.

I blink, disconcerted for a moment. But as his big hand cups my nape and pulls me closer to his neck, my mouth automatically opens to taste his blood. But as I run my lips over his neck, his wounds close too quickly for me to get more than a small taste.

“Bite me,” he commands.

His voice is deep and alluring, speaking to a hidden side of me that wants nothing else but to please him. My body is no longer my own as I move and writhe to rub myself all over him, bathe in his essence while he feeds on my own.

I wrap my lips around his flesh, feeling the blood pump in his veins under his skin, hearing the beat of his heart as if it were my own.

Yet how can I bite him with my blunt teeth?

“Bite me,” he repeats. The command booms inside of me, the bass of his voice reverberating through my entire being until all I can do is obey him.

I was born for this. I was made just for this.

To be here, in this moment. To be…his.

I bring my teeth down on his skin, my canines lengthening until they’re buried deep in his flesh. Fresh blood flows into my mouth and I gulp it down greedily, feeding as if I’ve done this my entire life.

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