Page 96 of Seph

The way we both moan tells me that we love it.

“No?” I roll onto my back and let her take the lead. Sometimes, when I push the envelope, she likes to push mine right back.

She rides me, in full control, still some lizard-brain instinct telling her that the vampire can’t be in control of her, can’t pin her down and open up her soft, vulnerable little body.

Except that’s just what we’ve been doing. I’ve overcome every hurdle of resistance, taken every drop of her, and made sure I was so careful with it.

That sweet little virgin pussy that left red kisses on my cock. I licked her clean, and she squirmed, repulsed and in love at the same time.

The aching, cramping nights where I licked her pretty petals until she came on my face, blushing almost as red as the juice staining my fingers. At least she found relief.

“No?” I echo, smiling.

She won’t let me bite.

If I bite, then something bad happens. That’s what some deep-down-broken part believes. That’s what she’s been taught since birth. With almost any other vampire, she’d be correct.

It’s the ultimate surrender. The ultimate trust.

Maybe I’m not worthy.

She pounds down on my cock, huntress muscles like steel, her thighs like pistons. She could outlast me, my lithe, hard beauty, while I’ve become pampered and soft, a creature that doesn’t hunt, doesn’t bite.

Except tonight.

My fingers creep up her back and massage where she carries decades of tension—and she’s not even thirty. Some of it was passed down to her. I hold her thighs down on top of mine while she takes me to the hilt, our moans fighting for the bottom octave.

Fingers move to the front, finding the thick pink nipples. Her breasts are so perfect, and yet she dislikes them. She dislikes her round bottom and naturally large, soft breasts. Her workoutshave made both of these lush bits perfectly perky paradises where taut muscles pull them to glorious heights.

But she doesn’t like them, never has, because no matter how hard she ran or how little she ate, she couldn’t make the natural curves of her body disappear. Her father hated them, called them flaws and liabilities, parts that stuck out and prevented her from being as thin as an arrow.

Right now, I pinch both nipples harder than most humans would like. Emily’s pussy floods my cock, adding a slick layer of juice that washes over my pale, tight sack, already thick and full for her.

I sit up, vampiric spine supple, flexible, not quite human. “You like the pinch,” I tell her while I kiss her sternum, working my way to her heartbeat.

“Uh-huh.” She can’t deny it while I’m fucking her. Her body is far too truthful.

“Let me bite this pretty little flower, pet. Suck the nipple into my mouth and nurse on you.”

“God...”

She wants to. I feel her clamping. Coming. Her hips grind and roll.

I drop one hand between us to furiously rub her clit and see her over the edge.

When she’s soft and ragdoll limp, I press her again, slipping into fangs and ruby-red eyes. “Look at me.”

She gasps when she sees my vampire face, something harder and sleeker in the lines of my jaw, something more primal in the red glow of my eyes.

“Tell me you love me. You loveme, not the vampires of the world, just the one vampire who wants to make youhisworld,” I challenge.

“I love you, Simeon,” she answers easily as she clings to me.

I kiss her throat, her neck, her mouth, holding her head to mine as I rake my fangs over her sweet lips. “I want you to say yes. I want you to let go of whatever fears you have.”

Her resistance is a game between us. If there were fear instead of longing in her voice, I’d never ask again. But there’s no fear anymore—just self-loathing. If she lets me drink, she’s lost the battle.

Am I bad for wanting my former enemy and current love to lose? Aren’t I supposed to protect my wife?

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