Page 49 of Last Shot at Love

Her body trembled. “We should stop… I should stop… before I can’t…”

She lifted a hand to push against my chest, but my tentacle wrapped around her wrist, pulling her close. “What if I don’t want you to stop?”

The pupils of Beryl’s glowing, green eyes had become the razor-thin slits of a predator.

“Cer.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I just drank from you yesterday, so I shouldn’t need to feed. But I’m so hungry— No, that doesn’t describe it. I’m ravenous and my craving for your blood is so powerful it is almost painful.”

“You’re a vampire, darling. Drinking blood is sort of your thing,” I teased, trying to ease her anxiety.

“You don’t understand!” Beryl panted, her arm wrapping around her stomach as though to ease a cramp. “It shouldn’t be like this! I should be able to drink from a vein without becoming addicted.”

What did it mean? My heart pounded against my ribcage, hope flaring in my chest. Was it possible her body had accepted me as hers?

Cerulean wasn’t grasping what I was saying.

This wasn’t a normal hunger, nor was it simple arousal. It was both and neither.

I wanted him to fill me… with blood and body.

Cerulean’s hand cradled the back of my head, pulling me forward until my closed lips pressed against his chest. His tentacle buried between my thighs rocked gently, sending fresh chills across my skin.

I swallowed back my moan of desire, afraid if I opened my mouth, my instincts would take over. What would happen if I lost control?

“Give in. I want you to use my body for your pleasure.” Cerulean’s tentacles curled and coiled around my body.

“But what about your pleasure?” I mumbled against his skin, desperately trying to keep my fangs to myself.

My body was shivering violently, as though I were burning up with a raging fever.

I was always in control. It was something I took pride in.

Battling against my vampiric nature wasn’t something I’d ever experienced, and the struggle was costing me dearly.

“Tasting you, touching you, holding you, feeding you… those things give me pleasure. Now stop depriving us both.”

“What if I can’t stop? This isn’t a craving I’ve experienced before.”

“You will. Stop stalling.” One of his tentacles curled around my neck, not squeezing, but showing me he could stop me if I lost myself. “Is that better?”

“Yes—” I began, only to have the tip of his tentacle slip into my mouth.

My mouth widened in shock, and Cer took advantage of it by delving slightly deeper. Before I could figure out what he was planning, the tentacle pushed against my fangs.

And like a hot knife through butter, my fangs sank into his tentacle.

His blood poured into my mouth, and on instinct, I sucked, drawing him deeper into my mouth. We groaned in unison.

As I drank, my tongue worked its way along the underside of his tentacle, stroking the edges of his suckers. Cerulean reacted by thrusting the tentacle between my thighs deeper into my heat.

The rest of his tentacles moved across my skin, his suction cups leaving hundreds of kisses on every inch of my body. And with each pull of blood into my mouth, Cerulean responded with a thrust of his tentacle in my heat.

His blood tasted nothing like the blood I’d sipped from blood-bags or wine glasses. That had been like drinking a healthy smoothie that you knew your body needed, and it didn’t taste awful, but it wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed.

Cerulean’s taste was like the sweet spiced chai I loved sipping in the evening while reading through spreadsheets.

Moaning, I sucked harder, rocking against him.

“That’s it,” Cer rumbled. “You’re so, so beautiful.”

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