Page 46 of Because the Night

When he draws back to look me over, to take in my reaction to him, it’s with a self-satisfied smile. I despise how damn pleased he is with himself.

He winds a lock of my blonde hair around his finger, and that’s when I see it over his shoulder. The painting of Ana. She stares vacantly out from the canvas with her golden hair, green eyes, and vapid expression.

And I refuse to be a poor imitation of some dead chick he pined after way back when.

No longer am I a mixture of confused and turned on. Now, I am also righteously angry.

He might have a point about my emotions being heightened. I have never hit anyone in my life. But I barely stop to think it through before slapping him hard across his perfect face. A violent red outline of my hand appears on his cheek before fading away.

“What was that for?” he asks in his annoyingly calm tone.

“I am not Ana.”

“No,” he agrees. “You’re not. Didn’t we already discuss that?”

Before I can open the door and make my escape, he’s reversed our positions again. The door is at his back, he’s guarding the only exit, and I am caught once more between him and the desk. “I am not your toy to play with. Whatever your reasons.”

“We might have to agree to disagree about that.”

“Shut up and listen. I may not be able to deny a certain attraction between us. But it is absolutely not going any further. For so very many reasons, but especially not so long as you have that damn painting of her on the wall.”

“You want me to take down the painting?”

“Yes. Now get out of the way.”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“No?”

“You heard me.”

The violence this man brings out in me. How dare he order me around and put his hands on me. Never has someone bossed me around and turned me on in equal measure. I don’t like feeling this out of control.

It wouldn’t be an overstatement to say I have no idea what I am doing. Not really. But it doesn’t stop me, let alone slow me down. My rage doesn’t have time for reason. I fly at the man, and he catches me with ease. I might want to learn how to fightbefore trying to take on Lucas. Ask Benedict for some lessons or something. It would probably be the smart thing to do if I wanted an actual chance in Hell against this particular fifteen-hundred-year-old vampire.

An attempt at biting him soon turns into us kissing. Again. Our tongues tangle furiously, and my teeth sink into his bottom lip. The way his grip on me tightens, holding me to him. I think I understand now why he keeps sniffing me. Because his masculine scent is otherworldly. A hint of salt and sandalwood and I don’t know what.

I shred the material of his tee, tearing it from his body, needing to be skin to skin. The seductive smile he gives me in return makes my knees quiver.

The next thing I know, my back hits the desktop and my boots, socks, and jeans are gone. Just gone. Same for the remains of my torn tank top. He is amazingly adept at destroying clothing. My lips are numb and swollen from kissing, and my head spins in dizzy circles. I can’t keep up. But the way my pussy clenches at the sight of him half naked cannot be denied. The way all of the smooth skin of his chest is on show. His wide shoulders and muscular neck, in particular, make me stupid with lust. He says I am his weakness, but he is also mine. That’s the truth of the matter.

“I like the lingerie of this time.” He stands at the end of the desk, gazing down on me. At my black lace Brazilian brief. His palms glide over my thick thighs, holding them apart. “You can keep the bra. For now.”

“Lucas, wait,” I say. But I might as well have saved my words.

He tears my underwear from my body and drags me farther down the desk. Closer to him. Then his face is buried in my pussy.

I hadn’t given much thought to vampire sex. But it is definitely something to be experienced. His stamina andstrength are unmatched. Guess you can learn a lot about anatomy in a thousand or so years. He drags the flat of his tongue through me, over and over again. Then he suckles at my labia, giving me just the right amount of pressure. The decadent, wet sounds of him eating me are obscene. Same goes for my moans.

My hands find his thick hair and hold on tight. The way he grinds his face against my sex is wild. How his thumbs hold me open, as he fucks me with his tongue. No man has ever come at me with such raw enthusiasm.

It’s mildly embarrassing how quickly he makes me come. How fast the sensation builds down low in my spine before shooting out to every part of me. He sucks on my clitoris and slides two fingers into me. And those digits faithfully find their target. My mind goes into freefall as the orgasm consumes me. All of me drawing tight before unraveling. I am stardust. I am gone. What remains of me is floating in the heavens high above.

He moves me back up the desk and I barely notice. It takes a while for my mind to come down. For me to put myself back together. But when I do, it’s to the sight of his body covering me. His jeans are pushed down, he’s positioned between my legs, and oh wow. We are really doing this.

“Do you want me inside you?” he asks.

“Yes.”

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