Page 40 of Sexual Appetites of Vampires

“Don’t answer the phone if it rings,” she said while shoving his sweatpants down.

“No worries,” he whispered, “I have no intentions of answering it for the rest of the day.”

She grabbed hold of him, and he was just as silky and hard, perhaps harder, than before. “I don’t want to wait,” she said and stepped up on the bottom rung of the ladder so that she could fit him to her perfectly.

A satisfying groan ran from her lips as he slid into her with ease.

He dropped his forehead against hers and struggled, as if in sweet agony to say, “Damn, you’re so snug and warm, your scent so strong. I can almost taste your...” He raised his head and his eyes glowed red, much too red.

“Michael?”

His lips curled back, and his fangs began to appear. “I want so badly to taste you, to show you how making love can truly feel. One taste and?—”

She shoved at his chest. “No!” She couldn’t, wouldn’t surrender completely to him. She had already surrendered her heart to him, if she allowed this—she knew he would have her soul.

“No,” she said again, shaking her head. “No, Michael.”

He plunged deeper inside her, and she fell back against the ladder rungs. He grabbed the ladder by either side of her head and shoved into her again, his eyes red, though not glowing as brightly, but his fangs still shiny and sharp.

“I’m going to make you come hard.”

“You always do.”

“Not like this,” he said and lowered his mouth to her neck.

She knew he wouldn’t bite her without permission, but it didn’t stop him from tormenting her. And good Lord could his fangs torment. He stilled his penis inside her while he ran thesharp points along her neck. It was as if he caressed her all over at once. Her nipples tingled, her clitoris throbbed unmercifully, and her hips began to gyrate trying to get him to move inside her.

And not once did he touch her, his fangs did it all and she knew he was showing her only a tiny portion of how it would feel if he bit her. She feared she would soon surrender and beg him to bite her, and so she reached down and toyed with his testicles as she moved against him, stirring his penis.

He grabbed her hand, stopping her, his forehead coming to rest against hers, his breathing labored. “Soon, Lara, soon,” he whispered as his fangs disappeared. He then lifted his head, planted his hands on her hips and held her tight as he drove in and out of her.

She came in a blinding explosion of senses that had her grabbing onto to his arms tightly and screaming aloud. She squeezed his muscles even tighter when he made her come again, along with him this time.

He would have collapsed on top of her if he hadn’t planted his hands against the ladder, his muscles taught with tension as he kept himself braced a mere inch away from her. She tried to calm her breathing, but it wasn’t easy since little bursts of pleasure continued to tickle her senselessly.

His breathing was as labored as hers, his chest rising and falling rapidly. It took a few minutes for them to regain their senses. Then Michael stirred, stepping back, though not before brushing his lips over hers, and quickly pulled up his sweatpants. He then took hold of her waist and gently lifted her off the ladder, her skirt falling to her ankles as he eased her to her feet.

“You’ve yet to have your tea,” he said with a smile. “Sit. I’ll go get it for you.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond. He left her standing there, and she wondered if he needed a bit of distance from her as she did from him. No, not from each other—from the situation. She braced her hand on one of the ladder rungs and took a deep breath.

A mistake.

His scent was heavy on her as was the scent of sex and damn if her body didn’t quiver at the memory. She chased thoughts of him from her head and hurried to scoop up her panties off the floor and slip them on. She then went over to the couch, but chose one of the single chairs, and snatching up the throw, wrapped it snugly around her as she sat.

Michael returned and handed her a mug of hot tea and gave the throw a slight tug. “Didn’t we already determine that shields don’t work against me?” He sat on the edge of the ottoman table directly in front of her. “Still feel the need to protect?”

“You did show your fangs,” she reminded before taking a sip of the chamomile tea and wishing it was something stronger.

“It’s a testosterone driven, male vampire thing.”

She had to laugh, his dark eyes filled with humor.

“I have said it before to you and I will repeat it as many times as necessary. I will never hurt you and I will always protect you—even from me,” he said with a playful wink.

And again, she laughed.

“Now, I think we should enjoy the day. We can do any number of things besides making love frequently, read together, watch movies together, have a delicious lunch and nice supper together.”

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