Page 93 of Lamb

“You stir something in me,” Lamb purred, thunder rumbling in tandem. “Something I can’t control.” He tugged on my arm, lips skimming up the inside of my elbow, to my bicep where he pressed another hard kiss into the soft muscle. His tongue darted out to soothe the reddening area, and I struggled not to pant.

“Cannot?” I breathed, my chest tightening, my stomach flipping to the beat of the growing storm. “Or will not?”

Lamb paused; his breath bated against me as thoughts stirred behind those burning brown eyes. “I’m not sure.”

He tugged harder, giving me no room to protest as he pulled my body closer until I was on my knees. One arm pressed into the pillow, holding my body aloft above him.

Weak limbs trembled as his lips continued their trail up my arm, over my shoulder, sinking into place at the nape of my neck. He breathed so deeply it was as if he might steal the oxygen from my lungs as our scents mingled.

“That sounds unlike you,” I whispered, trying to find sense in my quickly narrowing world. I struggled to grip my words, more questions wanting to bubble to the surface, but his lips were making quick work of my priorities.

A flash of lightning buried my hiss as a sharp sting of pain bolted down through my core and a searing burn burst up my stomach.

“Lamb,” I panted, my voice losing any authority. “Do not bite.”

“Stop talking,” Lamb growled back, snaking his other hand up around my bare waist. With light pressure, my body did little to stop me from collapsing on top of him, my breasts rubbing against his tightly muscled chest.

The world flipped, my back pressing into the soft cradle of the bed as Lamb braced above me. He stilled. His pause travelled through every wired fibre of my being, his persistent weight holding me in place, pinned by his pelvis pressing into mine. I fought to adjust, or ease the pressure of him, but only felt the solid mass pressed into my belly harden.

“Lamb,” I whispered, my eyes jumping up to the dark, shadowed face above me, his expression neutral and quiet.

Our hearing was drowned by the storm ramping up outside, and I knew my words landed on deaf ears. His focus was far from my voice, eyes hardened just below my chin. He stared like he might burn a hole through my skin, and it sent hot, flaming shivers down my spine.

I flinched as the whisper of fingers grazed over my throat. My breath caught in my lungs as his palm spread over my oesophagus, his fingers finding placement around it. There was no pressure behind his touch. Only his fingers rested on the tender bruises mottled across my skin.

“I made those marks,” Lamb uttered, pressing his thumb into the nook where my artery tremored beneath.

My blood was pounding in my ears, louder than the storm and stronger than the rain. It shook with neither fear, nor weakness, but something else entirely.

I shifted against him once more, his long, hard length rubbing against my skin. The phantasmal energy that started at my centre, flooded my stomach, scorching the skin where we met.

“Lamb,” I whimpered, feeling both charged and overwhelmed, hips bucking against him, reaffirming the feel of his length against my abdomen.

“Hmm?” Lamb purred, his tone absentminded as his thumb pressed into my neck. “Your heartbeat … I can feel it.”

That tiny little bit of pressure made sparks ripple over my skin and down to my breasts, my nipples standing to a hard, painful point. My hand jerked to his, fingers clasping around his wrists with a powerful strength I was unaware I had.

Lamb, snapped from his daze, relaxed his arm. His eyes, for the first time, reached up to my face. I could feel the flaming red of my skin and knew my eyes fluttered with lust and anticipation.

I held tighter to his arm, the pressure fading from my skin, a rushing desperation jumping through my mind. “Do not,” I breathed, pressing his hand back against my throat. “Do not let go.”

Confusion rose to the surface of his eyes, jumping back and forth across my face, as if trying to find the answer within. I did not understand it either.

All I knew was the feeling of his hand around my throat, the pressure of it there, holding me stiff … I did not want it to end. It made my body weak, my chest heavy, and my heart pound. His touch was usually like ice on my skin, but now it was the only thing able to taper the mad fever rushing through my veins. I was delirious with lust, and my brain had already melted into a puddle. Butthis,the feeling of his hold, it anchored me.

“Hold me,” I breathed, my neck straining further into his palm. “Like this.” I slid my hand from his wrist, sliding down over his knuckles, my hand overlapping and fingers threading between his, reapplying the lost pressure.

Lamb’s eyes tracked the motion, and I saw the understanding creeping into his expression. Those curious, confused eyes darkened, and the Lamb that sought control began to fade into the background. Energy surged through him, his presence feeling larger and heavier above me.

“Let go,” he said, his tone calm and controlled, his eyes not leaving mine.

“I—”

Lamb’s hand flexed around my throat, my breath flinching in reaction. I searched his face, and the more I saw, the more heat bloomed in my chest.

“Let. Go.”

I understood.

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