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He leans in and kisses my cheek. "Aren't we in the middle of your brother's wedding?" He moves lower, his lips brushing against my jaw.

"They're not going to miss us for another hour," I murmur as I tip my head to the side, giving him access to my neck.

His tongue grazes my pulse point and I can feel the points of his fangs against my throat. All kinds of feelings flood through me, most of them focused on wanting him to touch me more.

"Do it, please." The words sound more like a moan than they should.

Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to agree and pulls back, only to laugh when he sees my face. "You don't have to look so disappointed."

"I thought you were going to bite me," I admit.

"I am." He sits down and holds out a hand to me. "Unless you've changed your mind..."

"In the past minute? Definitely not." I take his hand and let me pull me down onto the chaise beside him.

He reaches out to cup my cheek in his hand, drawing me to him and kissing me deeply. I respond immediately, losing myself in the kiss.

His hand touches my leg, making me wish that there wasn't so much fabric between us and I could feel his touch on my skin. Except there's no reason that I can't make that happen.

I pull him closer with one hand while I move my other on top of his, guiding it further down until I find the hem of my skirt. I half-expect him to stop and ask if everything is all right, but he doesn't. Presumably sensing that I know exactly what I'm doing.

Kind of. I actually have no idea, I'm just going with what feels right to me.

His fingers graze against my ankle and I let out a small gasp into our kiss. He takes it as an opportunity to pepper a trail of kisses back to my neck.

The fabric of my dress bunches up as he pushes it aside, his hand reaching my knee.

He freezes for a moment, but doesn't move.

"Linc?" My voice comes out scratchy.

"I don't actually know what I'm doing," he murmurs.

"The biting seems fairly straightforward."

"Not the biting, Bea."

"Oh." I take a breath in an attempt to steady myself. "Do you want to stop?"

"No. I mean I literally don't know what I'm doing." He meets my gaze. "I understand in theory, but I haven't exactly done this before."

I touch his cheek with my hand. "I don't know either. I think we just...do what feels right."

His fangs press against his bottom lip, and it makes me hot and cold at the same time to see.

"I know that I want you to touch me," I murmur, putting my hand over his where it still presses against my knee.

He nods. Shifting ever so slightly so he can kiss me. It's both gentle and needy in a way I didn't think would be possible. His hand travels higher, and the cold air pricks against my skin but I barely notice it, I'm too caught up in what we're doing.

He breaks the kiss while he fumbles a little with my undergarments, and my breath catches in my throat. The sound draws his attention there and he grazes his fangs across my skin.

I lean my head back and let my eyes flutter closed. I don't know whether to focus on the pressure his fangs are putting on my skin, or the way it feels to have his hand between my legs. I've touched myself before, but it's nothing compared to having him do it.

My breath catches in my throat and I let out a low moan as he brushes against the right spot. He tries to go back, but doesn't quite manage.

"Here," I mumble, moving my dress out of the way so I can slip my hand under it and guide him. He pauses kissing my neck so he can focus on touching me.

A strange noise escapes me as his fingers press back against the right spot. I let go of his hand and let him continue. He finds a good rhythm and my thoughts disappear until his fangs press against my skin again.