Page 76 of The Bond That Burns

“This is when I should be feeding from you. When you’re like this—relaxed, turned on. When your body’s warm and pliant and your mind isn’t screaming at me to stop. This is when it should happen.”

She tensed beneath me, and I felt her pulse quicken. It wasn’t just fear. I could sense her desire. She was tempted.

I ran my thumb lightly over her jaw, the gentlest of touches that made her gasp and tilt her head, baring the smooth contours of her neck.

“We hate each other,” she breathed.

“We don’t have to like each other to fuck, little dragon.” I laughed as her eyes widened. “It’s true. Hell, it might even be better this way.”

“Less complicated,” she acknowledged.

I smiled. “Right. I could back off a little if you let me feed more easily.” I felt her stiffen slightly. I’d made it sound too much like a bargain. “But it would be good for you, too,” I added hastily. I’d definitely ensure that.

I skimmed my hand down her body and trailed a finger over her clit to remind her of just how good I could make her feel. Then I wrapped my hand around my cock and leaned back a little, letting her get a good look at me and all I had to offer. Her eyes widened even more.

“You’re aching inside right now, aren’t you, little dragon? Aching to have my cock in you. If just watching me jerk off turned you on this much, how much better would the real thing be?”

She bit her lip and my hand nearly slipped. She looked so damned beautiful there beneath me, her smooth freckled skin, her rosy full breasts.

I knew she wasn’t going to stop me now. She wasn’t going to scream. If she’d wanted to, she could have sat up and punched me in the face. Hell, I would have let her.

But she didn’t.

“Look at me, little dragon. Look at how hard I am for you. You’ve got my cock in a vise.” My voice was a strangled growl. “And I’m not even inside you yet.”

She gave a little gasp and I took it as a sign.

I lowered myself over her, positioning myself against her entrance, nudging her open with my cock. At the contact, she moaned.

I grasped her arms, pinning her wrists over her head and she gasped. She thought I was a monster? Then in her darkest dreams, she must have imagined me as one in her bed. She wanted me to be a little rough. I could sense it.

“Let me show you how good this can be,” I whispered, holding her down.

I started to push myself inside of her at the same moment I dipped my head to her throat. My lips brushed against the curve of her neck, a featherlight caress that made her shiver. Then, with deliberate slowness, I extended my fangs, giving her just enough time to feel the anticipation as they touched her skin, before I sank them in. At the same moment, with one powerful thrust of my hips I entered her fully.

She cried out as my length drove inside of her, her body tensing, her hips lifting up to meet me.

I had no words. No words for how good she felt. I felt dizzy as I fed and fucked her simultaneously, holding her wrists above her head mercilessly as she squirmed against me.

But she wasn’t going anywhere. And in another moment, I let her go so I could grip her hips instead, bracing myself against her. Never letting my fangs leave her neck for a second, I drove inside her again.

She was tight. Fuck, but she was tight. Her pussy clenched around me and for a second, I almost lost my hold of her neck. This would have been easier with her on top. But there was always next time.

Her blood was rushing over my tongue, trickling down my throat with an indescribable sensation. Like fire and silk, raw and powerful, filling me with a strength that made my very bones hum. I growled against her, unable to stop myself. Her blood was like nothing I’d had. She carried an essence in her that called to me, blood to blood.

As I moved against her, my cock thrusting into her again and again, my fangs drawing her blood, everything else faded away. There was no hate. No anger. No war between us. Only this powerful, primal connection that neither of us could deny.

The question was whether she felt it, too—or if I was alone in imagining it was there at all.

My body wanted more and more from her. I slammed into her again, nudging her hips wider. She lifted herself against me in response, rocking her body against mine as if trying to take me deeper inside.

Her hands were all over me, her nails raking lines across my back, my neck, my shoulders. Regan had once done that to me. I’d told her to keep her hands to herself the next time.

But with Pendragon, I’d wear the marks of her desire for me with pride. Maybe I’d even look at them in the mirror the next day as I imagined the look of sheer, beautiful anticipation on her lovely face just before I sank my teeth and my cock into her.

I could feel myself already teetering on the edge—the mix of her body and her blood pushing me more quickly towards another climax. But I wanted this to be good for her.

I’d taken my fill. In the span of a few minutes, I’d drunk what would normally take me much longer feeding from her wrist so unwillingly as was our previous custom. A little reluctantly, I pulled back, savoring the last drop of her blood, running my tongue over my fangs. I looked at her neck nervously for a brief moment, then watched as the two small puncture marks quickly sealed and faded. She wouldn’t need the scarf this time.

---