Page 9 of Immortal Bastard

Shallow, jagged breaths filled her lungs as the energy of the room thickened and her body tightened. Instinctively, she knew he was a predator and the world was his prey. So why wasn’t she scared?

She wanted him inside of her. But she also didn’t want to get murdered and chopped up into little colorful pieces. “I have cameras outside. If you hurt me, I’ve got your face on file.”

“I could never hurt you. I desire something else entirely.”

Every muscle in her body relaxed. “Something?” Even the inflection of her voice was subdued as if the odd sense of calm affected her vocal cords as well.

“Yes. I desire you.” His hand slid from her hair to the back of her neck, tipping her head back. “I want to taste every inch of you. Do you understand?”

She nodded slowly and that was all the permission he needed.

His mouth slammed over hers, warm and demanding, and her heart rate spiked, but she still wasn’t scared. Her hands gripped his broad shoulders. This felt right. She couldn’t explain it, but her body seemed to recognize his, as if they’d done this a thousand times before.

Backing her against the wall, his arms coiled around her waist, lifting her off the ground. Wreathing his neck, her fingers slid through his hair as his mouth delivered an onslaught of passion.

The crinkle of wall art under her back reminded her where they were. She tore her mouth from his and looked out the wide storefront window. It was nighttime, but the shop was lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

“In the back,” she panted as he kissed his way down her shoulder.

His dominant touch ignited a fire inside of her. Every press of his hard body to hers filled her with the burning desire to get him naked.

Large, strong hands gripped her ass, as her legs wrapped around his waist. His thick erection pressed hard into her core. He carried her toward the back.

“Wait!” She reached into the big fishbowl on the counter, snatching a purple Skin Deep condom from the ones she ordered for promotional purposes.

As if he knew exactly where to go, he took her to one of the rooms with a reclining chair she used for piercings. As soon as the cool leather of the seat hit her back, his mouth was on hers again.

Her fingers nimbly sought the buttons on his shirt, but she couldn’t find them. The fabric was coarser than expected.

“Rip it,” he growled, mouth against her throat.

Not needing to be told twice, her fists yanked the fabric open. Her palms collided with hard, masculine muscle wrapped in hot, unmarked flesh. He roughly tugged at the dainty cap sleeve of her dress. She twisted her arms, withdrawing them from the fabric.

He yanked down the cups of her bra. Cool air teased her puckering flesh. Ripping his mouth from hers, he stilled, one knee wedged between her thighs. "What have you done to yourself, Delilah?”

Glancing down at her exposed breasts, the glint of the overhead lights reflected in her nipple rings. Her arm lifted to cover her breasts, but he caught her wrist, forcing her to remain in a vulnerable position as he studied her.

She couldn’t decipher his expression. “You don’t like it?”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple shifting slowly under his tanned, shadowed jaw. “Does it pain you?”

“Not anymore. But…I don’t mind a little pain.”

His gaze was transfixed on the twin silver hoops. Gently, he traced the ring, moving the tiny ball and engorging her nipples all the more. She moaned and his hungry gaze flashed to hers. “Why would you do this to your body?”

“Because I like the way it looks and, well, they feel good.”

“How could this feel good?”

“The sensitivity makes me more responsive.”

His head tilted, and his attention snagged on her neck. He brushed her hair away from her shoulders and ran a fingertip up her throat and frowned. “What is this?”

Her hand lifted to her neck, cupping her skin to hide the tattoo. Damn young adult books! Although it was only two tiny dots with a trickle of crimson, it was one of her most regrettable tattoos. “That…is the mark of a childish phase.”

“Phase?”

She could explain that dumb tattoos happened and this was one of hers. The result of too much paranormal fiction, a bottle of rum, and the pressure of impressionable friends. “It’s a vampire bite,” she mumbled, embarrassed.

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