Page 48 of Vampire Bite

My cock filled her, stretching her beyond the confines of pleasure for us both.

“You feel so good,” I whispered again, unable to hold myself.

Her wet insides tightened around me titillating me, drawing every bit of energy out of me, as I kept thrusting hard into her, feeling every inch.

She finished first. I could see her fists clenching the couch, digging into it, whitening with strain. She turned around to look at me, her eyes filled with devotion and a mixture of sensations I myself felt. She looked so beautiful and raw, like a wild horse that would never be tamed, only adored from a distance.

I shot inside of her, my balls flicking against her sticky wet pussy lips, feeling the juices drip out of her. It was beyond erotic, beyond any physical connection I ever had with anyone.

I closed my eyes, falling onto her back, refusing to let go.

Not yet…

We remained like that for a while, the room completely quiet. Then, we settled next to each other, her head nestled in the crook of my shoulder. She was tracing idle patterns along my chest with the tips of her fingers. Her touch was light, almost absentminded, but every brush of her fingertips sent a warmth spreading through me.

The light from the oil lamps spilled onto her, casting fiery lines across her bare skin, making her look almost otherworldly. Or maybe that was just the way I saw her—like she was something rare, something I couldn’t quite believe was mine.

I slid my hand down her back, marveling at how perfectly she fit against me, as though she’d been made to be here. She shifted slightly, pressing closer, her breath warm against my collarbone.

For a long time, I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to break the spell of this moment, this peace that felt so fragile after everything we’d been through. I tilted my head to press a kiss into her hair, the scent of her filling my senses, grounding me in a way nothing else ever had.

“Are you okay?” I finally murmured, my voice low, almost hesitant.

She nodded without looking up, her fingers stilling for a moment before resuming their gentle path. “More than okay,” she whispered.

The corner of my mouth tugged upward, but there was an ache in my chest that I couldn’t shake. I’d never felt this close to anyone, never let someone see me this stripped bare. Physically,yes, but emotionally too. And it terrified me. Because now that I’d let her in, the thought of losing her...

“Lucas?” Her voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I looked down, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were soft, but there was something searching in them, as though she could sense the storm in my head. With her, being open and vulnerable wasn’t as dreadful as I thought it would be. She understood me better than anyone else. She could see me as I truly was, which was incredible.

“I’m here,” I said, my hand smoothing over her hair, needing her to feel it, to know it.

Her lips curved into a small, sleepy smile, and she leaned up, pressing a kiss just over my heart. “I know.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I believed that maybe—just maybe—things would be okay. Here, with her in my arms, the rest of the world didn’t feel so heavy.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Annika

I wasn’t sleeping. I felt Lucas’ arm draped around me, his fingers lazily tracing circles on my bare shoulder. My head rested against his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating.

I turned my face up to look at him, studying the sharp angles of his jaw, the deep set of his eyes. He looked different now… softer, almost human. The vulnerability in his gaze made my chest ache in a way I wasn’t ready to examine.

“Lucas,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper, “what’s it like?”

He shifted slightly, his hand stilling on my shoulder. “What’s what like?”

“Being a vampire,” I said, my words hesitant. “I mean… really being one.”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. His fingers resumed their gentle motion, as though he was collecting his thoughts. I could feel the tension under the surface, like he was weighing how much to say.

“It’s… complicated,” he finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. “It’s not like in the stories, Annika. There’s no romance to it, no allure. It’s survival. Hunger. Control.”

I stayed quiet, sensing that he needed the space to continue.

“The hunger is always there,” he admitted. “Even when you’re full, even when you’ve fed, it never really goes away. It’s this… constant pull at the edges of your mind, reminding you of what you are. What you need to stay alive.”

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