Page 17 of Stolen By the Vampire

“More. You know where.”

Now his expression turned wicked. “I do. And I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

At last. She shut her eyes and readied for the contact.

Lick.

Her eyes snapped open. He… he wasn’t using his fingers to ease her ache.

He’s using his mouth.

Since when had this been an option? She started to speak, but her words were cut off as he gave a long, sensual lick over the length of her slit, coating his tongue with her wetness.

“Delicious. You are perfection, Esmae.” His words were gruff, as if he was just as affected as she was. He kissed her there, teasing her entrance. His actions spurred a loud moan, which she tried to cut off, ashamed of how wanton she sounded.

He lifted his head. Gods, the sight of him was erotic, full lips parted, face complete masculine determination, as he peered up from between her legs. “Never stifle your moans, Esmae. Not with me.”

She flushed. “I… I can be loud. It’s distracting.” Something that Jared had found distracting.

His eyes narrowed to slits. “When I find who made you think your pleasure was something to be ashamed of, I’m doing to drain them dry and burn their corpse to cinders. Your moans aren’t distracting, love. They’re the entire point.”

Dark, dark words. Monstrous words that should have her telling him to get off of her.

Instead, she grew wetter. Silas, of course, noticed. “You like hearing the things I would do to avenge you, my violent witch. Fear not—it’s a topic I can speak to at length. But another time, because my mouth is needed elsewhere.”

A flutter beat in her chest, a living, uneven sensation. Of all things, why was he making her smile? True to his word, Silas returned to his post, taking her in his mouth. He sucked and flicked his tongue, making her gasp and groan. But habit had her still biting back the worst of her cries.

“I’m going”—lick—“to make”—suck—“it impossible for you”—flick—“to hold back.”

His grip on her thighs was firm, pinning her in place while he feasted. Desire welled inside her, building faster than she’d ever experienced. She felt like her body would detonate at any moment, like a single stroke could send her over the edge. Silas gave her no quarter. Soon, it was impossible to restrain herself, her moans and gasps blending with words, with pleas.

“Silas,” she whimpered. “I’m close.”

He didn’t pause to respond, continuing to worship her with his mouth. Esmae was tumbling towards the edge, close, so close, with release just out of reach. He shifted slightly, and she nearly cried from the loss of contact, except his mouth then found her most sensitive part. A bolt of electricity went through her at the contact. Need. So close.

He sucked and tugged at her clit. She strained, wanting to pin his head there with her hands, but the psychic restraints held true. Close, she was so close—

His fang pierced her.

She exploded.

Pain didn’t touch her, only pleasure so overwhelming her vision went white.

“Silas!”

He sucked and sucked, feeding from her. If the bite on her neck had been the most sensual thing she’d ever experienced, this was a hundred times more potent. With each draw of her blood, he injected a new wave of pleasure. Her orgasm ripped through her, but it didn’t stop there. Waves of bliss crashed over her, one after the next. Eventually, he took pity on her and drew away, licking flecks of blood from his lips while he stared down at her as her orgasms ricocheted through her, leaving her a quivering mess.

He pulled the blanket up over her, the move startlingly gentle while he remained on the bed.

The move wasn’t that of a monster. She blinked back the thought, wrapping her arms around herself, since it seemed he’d also released the thrall. “Okay, you were right. I screamed your name.”

He could gloat. He’d earned it. She’d think less of him for it, but, well, he wouldn’t be wrong.

Only Silas’s expression wasn’t teasing or arrogant. He was utterly serious when he said, “If you are pleased, then I won the dearest prize of all.”

Chapter Ten

To Esmae’s surprise, the next day they didn’t discuss what had transpired in bed. The witch woke more relaxed and sated than she’d felt in ages. Silas led her to a bathing pool and left her there to gather her thoughts. She used the time to chat with Dirt and see if he had any other insights. It had taken some coaxing, since the mole complained she now smelled like the “scary predator” but eventually she won over her disapproving companion. Dirt didn’t have any helpful insights, but he did make her feel less alone. She was hard-pressed for friends at the best of times, and the curse had left her feeling even lonelier. It was her burden to solve, by herself. She hadn’t even been able to tell her father, because what could he do?

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