Page 61 of The Huntress

“We need to visit him soon.” She pressed a wet kiss to his skin.

His breath hitched, and she peeked at him while grazing her teeth over his nipple. He moaned, unfolding his arm from behind his head to brush a curl off her forehead.

“Yes,” he said, his voice gruff. “He’ll explain the purpose of the canister’s contents as well.”

“You asked him for me?” Her head shot up, and she smiled, tweaking her nose. She clambered up, crushing her breasts against his chest. He lowered his hands to her hips, squeezing them.

“Have I told you how incredible you are, Gabe?” She feathered her lips across his parted mouth, their breaths mingling. “How sexy you are?” Nipping at his bottom lip, she drew blood.

She ran the tip of her tongue along the length of his lip before sharing the bounty with him.

Hooking his toes on her ankles, he spread her thighs. His pelvis dipped between them as he sipped from her lips. He trailed his hands from her hips, along the indent of her waist, to between her shoulder blades, overlapping his forearms to crush her against him. Her soft breasts trapped between them hardened her nipples, spiking the lust blurring her vision. A growl shredded his throat as he crashed his mouth over hers.

She loved his animalistic grunts of appreciation, his seeking fingers, his desperate touch. He took what he needed, took her breath, demanded her heart, claimed her soul for his own.

He unraveled his arms as he lay siege to her mouth, absorbing her gasps. His palms took hold of her backside, and squeezed, yanking her upward to position her at the head of his arousal. Holy fuck, he was potent.

She tore her mouth from him. “I have to breathe. Human, remember.” Her heavy pants lessened as her ragged breathing calmed. “Gabe…damn, you’re a fine kisser.”

He blessed her with a seductive curl of his upper lip as he thrust into her. Her just-drawn breath rushed out of her in a moan. Tingles started from her pebbled nipples before scattering down to her loins. She embedded her nails into his biceps as she followed her huffs of pleasure with a cry at his repeated thrusts. She couldn’t move her legs, still looped and trapped by his.

“Please…” she begged, this time for a different and more demanding need.

She was on the cusp of a momentous orgasm, drawing her full attention. Everything else blurred against this yearning ache throbbing in her core.

“What do you want?” he teased, peppering kisses along her jaw to nibble on her earlobe.

“Claim me hard, fast…now.” She made demands, not caring that her will was no longer her own. “Please, my love.”

His head jerked up, and he met her eyes. He stared at her, making her worry he’d stop. Stop doing such wonderful things to her. Stop before he satiated her. With her clouded mind, she struggled to understand the look on his face. It felt important, her instincts bouncing in urgency.

She struggled to form the question on the tip of her tongue, but he dipped his head to sample her mouth, his lips gentle, with both hands grasping her cheeks to hold her still. With a predatory elegance, he rolled them over, raised her legs to rest the back of her thighs against his chest, and proceeded to give her what she asked for. He thrust into her with a force that took her breath away.

She couldn’t recall feeling this good. The sheer length of him connecting with her on a cellular level inspired far more than a primal need. Every sense she had, even her so-called sixth sense, attuned to him, his every movement, the grunts and growls emitting from him as he shredded her inhibitions. He blurred the boundary where she ended and he began.

“Is this what you want, Callie?” he asked as he thrust hard and deep then withdrew, slow and methodical, before repeating the cycle.

Her mouth parted to say something, but words escaped her. Sensations bombarded her, overwhelmed her, drowning her thoughts—her very principles—leaving her weeping for him.

He bit her above her right breast, and she exploded, screaming his name as new endorphins saturated her from within and stars fluttered across her eyelids. She whimpered, shuddering at the psychic finger stroking her nub as he drank from her. Too much. Too good. Could her human body survive such pleasure? At least if she died right here, it’d be the best damn way to go.

He pounded into her, her knees touching her chest as he leaned back to look at her, her blood staining his lips.

He muttered incoherent words. “I can’t get enough of you,” she thought he said.

With his real finger, he parted her lips to stroke her nub and massaged her breasts with psychic hands.

She couldn’t hold back, didn’t know how to stem the tidal wave of burgeoning pleasure. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clamped onto the small incision he’d made once again, above his left nipple. She sucked on his skin as hard as he pounded into her, not bothered by the metallic flavor of his blood. He trembled against her, panting and grunting as he did so.

He stilled. Roaring his release—and her name—he shuddered and twitched against her glistening body. He’d thrown back his head, gripping her hips, and a beautiful, pained expression hardened his face. His strength mesmerized her, the controlled power coursing through his body. Coming to, he dipped his head, eyeing her, and a lazy smile spread across his lips.

Her breath hitched at his magnetic intensity. “You’re still bleeding.” She gestured to the crimson rivulet painting one pec.

He glanced down and grinned. Before her eyes, it sealed. The blood smear was the remaining evidence. She sat up and licked it off before falling back onto the bed with a satisfied sigh. He followed her down, lapping at her wound. New stirrings of lust, tendrils of desire, and decadent need made her core throb again.

But she had a burning question she needed to ask. “What will happen to my blood after you’ve converted me?” She gripped his biceps as he feathered kisses up her neck, his erection still buried within her.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled against her skin. “Regardless, I wantyou…your blood tasting like chocolate is a bonus.” He leaned back to cup her cheek, brushing his thumb across her lips. “In a normal conversion, you would lose your sense of taste, but you’re a legend, a myth.”

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