Page 200 of A Bond in Blood

“Ulrich,” I gasped his name again.

He leaned into me, claiming my lips. Shocking me in the dark. His fingers curled more, moving slightly faster.

“What do you want?” he whispered against my lips.

“More,” I cried. “More. I will never have enough of you.”

“Yes,” he moaned.

“Please.”

He removed his fingers but continued to brush my sensitive flesh.

“You came for me,” I cried while he continued his caresses.

“I did not leave,” he replied.

I didn’t understand the words. But I did not want to understand them. Not now. I wanted to let go; I wanted to continue to fall into oblivion with him.

He leaned over me, kissing me softly and I moved my hand down. My fingers brushed him, and he jolted.

“Bren,” he muttered. “I am fine.”

I kissed him back, wrapping my hands around his shaft. “You do not allow me to give you the pleasure you give me.”

His hand gripped my hair. “Brenna.”

“Say my name, Ulrich,” I whispered. “Call out to whatever Gods you worship.”

I pressed against his chest, forcing his back against the mattress, trailing my hands down his broad chest. Moving them along where I knew his ink to be.

I moved upward, reaching for his face but he stopped me, only allowing my palm on his jaw.

“Brenna,” he whispered again.

I kissed him, cutting off his words. Wanting his fears to die with the heat of my lips. Like mine were melting away from me.

He was shaking when I pulled away. His hands trembling against my back, pressing into the scars created by his own hand.

I removed his palm from me and laid it gently on the bed.

“Call my name, Ulrich,” I muttered while I made my descent. “Call my name.”

My tongue licked his tip, taking in the small bead of moisture coming from him. His fingers wrapped in my hair.

“Brenna,” he gasped as my lips wrapped around him. “Oh fuck.”

I smiled around him, loving the pleasure I was giving back to him. Returning the release he was always so willing to give me.

His hips moved while my head lifted up and down and my hands gripped the base of his shaft. I tightened my hold on him, wanting him to feel my desire for his release. Wanting him to know I needed him.

His sounds—they were addicting.

A hand removed from the tangle of my hair, coming down and holding my chin while he continued to thrust down my throat. Bringing tears to my eyes from the force of it.

He stopped and pulled my chin up. As though he were gazing into my eyes in the dark.

“You wanted to make love,” he whispered.

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