Kresley Cole - A Hunger Like No Other

Glad for the reprieve, she tentatively held him, in no way able to fit her palm around him. When she didn't begin at once, he bucked his hips. She finally ran her hand over him in long strokes, looking away.

"Harder." She tightened her fingers, face hot with embarrassment. Was it so apparent that she had no idea what she was doing?

As if reading her mind, he rasped, "That's it, lass." He was kneading her breast, his mouth against her neck, broken sounds coming from his chest. She could feel his muscles tensing. His arm tightened around her until she didn't think she could breathe. His other hand dipped down to cup her sex.

He growled, " Going tae come ." Then, with a raw groan that drew her gaze back to the sight, his seed came, pumping out into the shower. " Ah, God, yes ." He pawed her breast, but she scarcely felt it, her eyes widening as it continued on and on.

When he'd finished, she realized she was dazedly continuing to stroke him. He stayed her hand as he shuddered, the muscles of his torso rippling.

She was losing her mind. She should be appalled, yet she recognized her body was aching. For him? For the firm hand he'd removed from between her legs?

He pushed her back against the unmarred wall under the showerhead. Leaning his chest against her, he placed his chin on her head and his palms by her face to box her in. "Touch me."

"Wh-where?" Was that her voice sounding so…husky?

"Doona care."

She began rubbing his back, and as she did so he kissed the top of her head, absently, as if he didn't realize he was being kind to her.

His shoulders were broad and, like the rest of him, hard and thick with muscle. Seemingly of their own accord, her hands glided over him more sensually than she would have liked. Each movement brushed her achy nipples against the ridges of his torso. The golden hair on his chest tickled her lips, and despite herself, she imagined kissing that tanned skin. Her sex still throbbed for the semi-erect penis pressed high against her belly, yearned for it even though she'd seen how huge it had grown.

Just when she thought he was about to fall asleep, he murmured in her ear, "I can scent you're still aroused. Deeply so."

She sucked in a breath. What exactly was he? "Y-you say these things just to shock me." She thought he spoke so bluntly because he'd quickly determined how uncomfortable it made her—and she resented him for it.

"Ask me to make you come."

She tensed. She might be a coward, without accomplishment or talent. But right now she felt fiercely proud. "Never."

"Your loss. Now, take down the braids. You'll keep your hair loose."

"I don't want to—"

When he reached down to do it himself, she unraveled them, trying to keep her pointed ears covered.

His breath left him with a sharp exhalation. "Let me see them."

She said nothing as he brushed her hair back.

"They're like the fey's." He ran the backs of his fingers against the sharp tip at the top and she shivered. By his watchful gaze, she knew he was noting her reaction. "Is that a trait of female vampires?"

She'd never seen a full-blooded vampire, male or female. She shrugged.

"Interesting."

He rinsed her hair, studying her face with an inscrutable expression. When finished, he ordered, "Turn this water off," then drew her from the stall. Taking a towel, he dried her completely. He even pinned her still—by hugging an arm around her waist—to run the cloth slowly between her legs. Her eyes grew wider as he continued to inspect her as if she were a prospective purchase. He palmed the curves of her bottom, then brought his hand down hard on each side, making sounds of…approval?

He must have noticed her bewildered expression, because he said, "You doona like me learning you?"

"Of course not!"

"I'll allow you to do the same." He placed her palm flat on his chest, dragging it down, a challenging look in his eyes.

"I'll pass," she squeaked, jerking her hand back.

Before she could even cry out, he swooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, roughly tossing her there.

She scrambled up, dashing for her dresser full of clothes. In a flash, he was behind her, peering over her shoulder, pressing into her with his entire body, his penis hardening against her. He picked out a revealing red lace nightgown, pulling it out with one finger under the straps.

"Red. To remind me of what you are."

Red was her favorite color. She wanted to be reminded, too.

"Raise your arms."

Enough! "I—can—dress—myself," she snapped.

He yanked her around to face him, and his tone went deadly. "Doona displease me, vampire. You canna imagine how many years of rage I've got pent up, ready to be tapped." She glanced past him, and her jaw slackened when she saw the distinct claw marks that had rent the bedside table. He's a madman .

She helplessly raised her arms. Her aunts would have told him—Her brows drew together. Her aunts wouldn't have told him anything, because they'd already have killed him for what he'd done. Frightened Emma raised her arms. She was disgusted with herself. Emma the Timid.

When he smoothed the gown over her, he insolently brushed her nipples, which were hard as if seeking his touch. He stood back to rake his gaze over her from her toes up to the gown's high slit at the leg, finally resting on the lace bodice. "I like you in silk." His voice was a deep rumble, his gaze as strong as a touch, and even after everything that had happened, she responded.

He gave her a cruel smirk. He knew it.

Her face flushed and she turned away.

"Now, get in the bed."

"I'm not sleeping with you."

"We're going to do something in that bed. I'm weary and thought we'd sleep, but if you have other ideas…"

Emma had always wondered what it would be like to sleep with someone.

She had never experienced it, never felt another's skin against her own for more than the briefest moment. When he'd tucked her against his body in a spooning position, she'd been shocked by how warm he was. Her body, which had paled and cooled with hunger, grew warm as well. She had to admit this unfamiliar closeness was…remarkable. The hair on his legs tickled her, and his firm lips pressed against her neck as he slept. She could even feel his strong heartbeat against her back.

She finally understood the appeal of this. And knowing what she did now, she wondered how anyone could not want a bedmate. He was answering so many questions she'd had, proving so many of her secret dreams.

And yet he could readily kill her.

At first, he'd squeezed her to his chest so hard it was everything she could do not to cry out. She didn't think he held her so tightly to hurt her—he could have just hit her if that was his intention—so she was confused by his obvious need to clasp her to him.

Now he slept at last, his breaths growing even and slow. She called up her meager reserve of courage, and little by little, over what seemed to be an hour, she eased his arms open.

If only she could trace, she could escape so easily—but then she never would have been taken by him in the first place. Annika had taught Emma about tracing, the Horde's means of travel. She'd warned that vampires could teleport to any place they'd been to previously. The stronger ones could even teleport others, and only a fierce struggle might prevent it. Annika had wanted Emma to learn how. Emma had tried her hardest, failed, and been discouraged. She'd stopped paying attention…

When Emma was finally able to duck from under his arms, she rose in cautious degrees. Free of the bed, she glanced back at him, and again was struck by how handsome he was. She was saddened that he had to be like this. Saddened that she couldn't learn more about herself—and even about him.