Blood Red. Sharon Page
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So hot and wet and tight and perfect—
She jerked her head to the side to avoid his mouth, reached down, grabbed his cock. Both her hands closed tight around it and she wrenched it up, up through her cleft as she pulled it away from her quim. It raked her clit and her moan electrified him. Yannick almost burst right in her hands.
“No.”
His normally slow heartbeat thundered in his ears. No? Sweet angel, why not?
“The dreams,” she said desperately. “Why did we have the dreams? Why? What do they mean?”
His hips rocked of their own volition. The motion drew his cock back and forth through her tight grip. His tender skin snagged and pulled with exquisite agony.
Yannick could barely pull his thoughts together, much less send them to her.
I don’t know, but I suspect they…were to warn us…tell us that we are destined…destined to have incredible sex.
He truly didn’t know. After all, he’d believed he had no destiny beyond the next full moon.
“But you are a vampire,” she protested, “And I am a—”
You are a hunter of vampires.
Yannick did not like the direction of this conversation. But she was an innocent, and a little fear and apprehension were to be expected.
You have no need to fear me, Althea. I perhaps have more reason to fear you.
“I am a virgin. And moral. Church-going. God-fearing. I am supposed to be pure. I can’t.” Compelling and frightened, her eyes stared up into his.
He needed her so much tonight but he wouldn’t force her. Or control her. But perhaps, with another orgasm or two he could convince her.
Althea gasped as Yannick moved down between her thighs again. How she wanted it. Wanted more. Wanted him. But she must stop him. He wouldn’t pleasure her without expecting pleasure himself, would he?
But in her dreams, she had always awoken before he found his peak. In her dreams, only she found pleasure. The fiery explosions of her body always woke her.
The dreams…those wonderful, frightening, scandalous dreams. What did they mean?
Yannick found that blissfully excruciating place again with his tongue. But this time, the sensations didn’t spear her with shock. This time Althea felt the pleasure take her and she arched at his touch.
She had already sinned, hadn’t she? Was this a sin? Or could she pretend that she had not exactly given up her purity? That she was not exactly being intimate with a vampire? She’d touched herself—her own breasts—another sin. But with him, nothing felt wrong at all.
His tongue slid lower. He seemed to know exactly what she yearned for. His tongue rippled into her, filling her, and she tensed. Then cried out in pure delight as he plunged his tongue in and out. It was incredible. As perfect as his…his cock felt in her dreams.
To her astonishment, he withdrew, ran his tongue lower. Oh, how sensitive it was down there!
Then he touched her bottom—the entrance there—with his tongue.
And in an instant, Yannick proved she was not pure and moral at all.
His tongue dabbled and wetted. Oh it was so wrong, but so good. Althea was horrified—but thrilled.
He cupped her derrière with one big hand, lifted, and circled her tingling opening with his tongue. He skimmed his hands down her bare legs. Goodness, no other man had ever seen her naked legs, yet he casually caught hold of her ankles and lifted her legs up.
Soon Althea had her thighs pressed along her body, her calves and bare feet in the air. This way, her intimate parts were exposed to him—her “grotto of love” and even more shockingly, her bottom.
Yannick’s strong hands held her thighs as his lips grazed the base of her spine. Hot and wet, his tongue delved in the valley between her cheeks again.
Slid upward, until it dipped into her entrance again, and pushed inside.
Startled, she cried out in her mind. Yannick. Oh, but you can’t!
He answered, every inch the demon he claimed to be. Oh, but I can.
His tongue slid in and out, swirled, and filled her. In and out. Thrusting like he did in her cunny in her dreams.
Althea gasped as his thumb found her nub, as his two fingers slid into her. He spread his fingers wide, plunging them deep.
Someone was crying out. Her cries. But her voice was so different. Strained. Raw. Demanding. Yes. Yes. Oh God. Oh God.
Need made her brave and she grasped his hand on her clit, changing his stroke.
Yannick laughed into her mind, a raunchy, coarse laugh. Yes, angel, show me how to take you there.
His words were like a spark to powder. She burst. Burst into a million shimmering pieces. Magical and intense, her orgasm tore through her.
Yes, come, my beautiful Althea.
She did, out of control, wild. She barely drifted back to earth before he took her to ecstasy again.
Althea tried to hang on to sanity. Her head buzzed as though filled with bees, throbbed with the pounding of her racing heart. She struggled to open her eyes, to see him.
He was over her, his hand on his cock, and she knew she couldn’t fight him if he slid into her now.
Explore me, he urged. Please.
He was truly begging. And Althea sensed it was a foreign sensation for him.
She didn’t know whether to feel more powerful or more scared. But she touched his broad chest. Hidden by shadow, it was alive to her senses through feel. Beneath her fingertips, his heart beat slow and steady. She ran her palms over the broad, solid muscles of his magnificent chest. Curved her hands to fit over his solid pecs. Toyed with the dusting of curls.
White-blond hair fell over his face as Yannick ducked his head at her touch. Agonized pleasure showed on his aristocratic features. The sight made her tremble. His hand still rested on his cock and she glanced down. He gave his shaft a long, slow stroke.
Her cunny clenched in response.
She flicked her thumbs over his nipples and he gave a half-chuckle, half-groan. They peaked eagerly at her touch and she pinched them, just as he did to her.
“Do you like that?”
My nipples are just as sensitive as yours, sweet.
Althea glanced up, teasingly beneath her lashes. “Would you like them suckled then?”
His sharp intake of breath truly made her feel like a conquering warrior.
Anything