Heather Long - Waiting in the Wings

Badly.

He set her down on the bed gently, as though she were the most precious of items. She arched her hips up, eager to feel him thrusting inside her, but he pressed her back against the bed and trailed kisses down her throat to her breasts. His tongue outlined delicate circles against her flesh, tracing each nipple, sucking off the pasted diamonds until she thought she might go mad from the caress.

He worked his way across her belly, warm breath teasing her skin. His hands pressed her thighs wider. Pushing up onto her elbows, she glanced down to meet his gaze as he blew warm air against her clit. A whimper clawed its way up her throat.

She wanted him.

Needed him.

He flicked his tongue over her clit, and she let her head fall back, closed her eyes and moaned. Decadent pulses of heat skated up from the lavish contact. Every time he rolled the little nub, her body shook from the force of it. The sweet, sensuousness was familiar, as were the lazy circles he drew around her clit. She expected his fingers, and when he slipped two inside her to thrust gently, the world shattered in pleasure.

He sucked her clit between his lips and plunged her relentlessly toward orgasm. She dug her fingers into the bed and let go, riding his hands and mouth until the world completely rent apart and collapsed. Richard petted her through the orgasm, running his hands up and down her over-sensitized flesh, eliciting more tingles of rapture. He knew her body better than she did.

The little stab of resentfulness popped the balloon of sin she basked in. A growl vibrated in her throat, and she wrenched herself free of his caresses and rolled him over. Straddling his hips, she wrapped her hand around his cock and stroked him from base to tip, watching him.

A lazy, wanton smile curved his lips upward. He trailed two fingers against her cheek. “What do you want, darling?”

“I want you. I want to know you the way you know me.” She dragged her nails down his chest, leaving three red welts on the taut muscle. She rolled her thumb against the crown of his cock, spreading the dampness over the tip. Her teeth ground together—

She wanted to bite him.

But she had no fangs.

He sat up, catching her mouth in a hard kiss and working their lips together until her jaw relaxed. Another moan worked free, and she guided his cock to her entrance, rubbing him against her sex until they were both soaked and panting. He pushed her hands aside and positioned himself, thrusting into her in one swift stroke that left her gasping for air. He clamped his hands on her hips and seated himself deep inside—and then stopped moving.

Her gaze jerked to his, and she snarled. Her nipples ached, wanting his attention, and her sex clamped down on him, squeezing, and she wanted to move—to thrust and ride until they fell over the edge. But he resisted her attempts to thrust, holding the door to their mutual pleasure locked and barred.

Tangling his fingers into her hair, he guided her mouth to his throat. “Take what you want, darling…”

“I can’t.” Despair twisted inside of her. She tested her tongue against her teeth, but they remained flat, squared off and even the scent of him—musk, masculine and aroused—didn’t draw them out.

“You can.” He soothed, his free hand trailed caresses up and down her spine and his body withdrew and then thrust up inside of her hard.

She moaned, opening her lips to draw a sucking kiss against his neck.

“Take what you want.”

The salty taste of his skin teased her, and she grazed the flesh with her teeth. He jerked against her and flipped them over so he seated deep between thighs. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and he angled his throat to stay with her mouth.

“Harder.” The order reverberated through her as he drove himself in to the hilt. She bit down, terrified of hurting him—she couldn’t puncture his throat—not like he had…

“Again.” He growled and thrust.

She dug her nails into his back and started to pull away, but his fingers tightened in her hair and he dragged her mouth against his throat. Her mouth throbbed, in tune with every thrust he drove into her. Stars danced across her vision; her whole body shook with tremors of need—awareness of every brush of their skin. The pounding of his heart echoed against her ears, and she reared her head back and clamped onto his throat. Her teeth elongated, sharpening in a burst of pain, and she pierced his skin.

Moaning, she tasted him. Her head spun with the dizzying connection. His blood tasted like the sweetest nectar. It spilled across her tongue, and she rode the shockwave rocking through her body. His thrusts grew more fevered, but she drowned against the intensity of the feeling. A doorway opened inside of her, and he flooded her with pleasure. She saw herself, standing inside a rustic bar, bound breasts pushed up against the corset and grinning saucily at him.

She danced to some jaunty tune. Weaving in and out of the tables. Men occasionally tried to grab her. She always slapped them away with a smile and a flippant comment. A shyness in her eyes when she looked up at him and a breathless wonder.

The images flipped at her so fast, she couldn’t comprehend them all, and they tumbled her over, the intensity doubling and redoubling.

Her heart echoed the frantic pace of his. Mine…always mine…

She didn’t know whose thought that was, but it plunged over the edge with her as her body came apart, a second orgasm tipping her into a third. He stiffened against her and thrust a final time before following her over the edge and collapsing together, all warm limbs and nuzzling kisses. She lapped at his throat, closing the wound on instinct. Her fangs relaxed, losing their shape, and she lay there quivering.

He loves me more than himself. The depth of emotion she tasted in his blood, the loving memories he treasured—they filled her with wonder.

And terrified her.

What if she never remembered him?

Or worse, what if she did and she didn’t want him?

I left him once, didn’t I?

They lay wrapped up in each other, Richard’s face pressed against her throat. She trailed her fingers up and down his spine. She wanted to know every inch of him, to remember it the way he remembered her.

Why did I leave?

“Richard?” She whispered his name, softly and gentle. If he slept, she wanted him to sleep. Did vampires actually sleep?

He sighed and lifted his head. The troubled look in his eyes warned her that his mind traveled the same twisting path hers did. “Yes, my love?”

“What if I never remember?” No sense in holding her fear to her breast. Better to rip the bandage off and face it head on.

“You will.” Such confidence.

Lifting her brows, she trailed her fingers over his shoulder and up his neck to the spot she bit. No mark remained on his smooth, hot flesh. “You don’t know that. What if my memory is like this wound—gone, healed over and never to return?”

He shook his head once. “No. I will not accept that. A few days ago you didn’t even know you were a vampire. You didn’t have fangs. And yet here you are—you know you know me, you drank from me. What did you see when you did?”

“Me. I saw how you see me.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “You remember everything—and I’m a blank slate.”

“Not true.” Richard shifted, rolling onto his side and propping his head on a hand. His palm rubbed over her belly, warm and possessive. “You are still you. You are the woman you’ve always been. It’s all inside you—the quirky antics, devoted loyalty, playful mannerisms. You’re still my Kristina.”

She pushed his hand aside and sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed. She needed to think and not just to roll him over and fuck his brains out again.