Page 65 of The Guardian's Curse

Not yet, but soon. He was almost afraid to taste her.

Once he did, he was done for.

16

In the space of fifteen seconds, Shoshanna York saw the solution to everything, the very fabric of the universe, and then forgot it all in an obliterating haze as her mind completely shut down. Every fiber of her being gathered into one single cell, a singularity of want and desperate need that answered only to Alistair Thorne.

His sharp teeth grazed the inside of her thigh, and she nearly shot off the bed as the electric sensation rocketed through her. But he placed a kiss on her hip, then gently kissed his way up her body until he reached her throat. “I need you, Shoshanna,” he said. “I want to drown in you.”

Without her sight, she was hyper-focused on the delightful roughness of his hands and the wet sounds of him feasting upon her. She could smell his rich, masculine scent all around her. His red eyes glowed slightly, letting her glimpse the outline of his face. She dared to reach up to him, but he grabbed her wrist and traced the veins with his tongue.

Before she could get her hands on him, he turned her over easily. His strong hands gripped her hips and pulled her back to let his cock rub against her. He was thick and hard as steel. “Do you want me, Shoshanna?”

“I do,” she breathed, leaning back against him and arching her back. The darkness stripped away her inhibitions. She didn’t care about making unflattering faces, nor what her breasts looked like, or how she tasted. Here in the shadows, she was free to feel and feed without shame.

His hands gripped her hips tight, and then he was pushing at her entrance. There was a split second of pain as he breached her, but he made short, shallow thrusts as her body stretched to embrace him.

“More,” she demanded. God, he felt so good. Feeling just that first inch of him made her feel empty and indignant at being denied more.

“You can have everything, but I’m going to savor this,” he said. He kissed her spine, and she tried to push back into him to demand more. But he held her hips firmly, controlling her as he pushed further into her, deeper and deeper until he filled her completely. “Scheisse,” he swore. His hands traced circles on her back as he lingered, engulfed in her.

She breathed hard as her body warmed to him. Just as he promised, he savored it. With each slow stroke, he nearly withdrew, then slid back into her until he bottomed out again. Her whole body fluttered around him, her fingers fisting into the soft sheets.

“More,” she whimpered, squeezing him tight.

“Patience,” he said. “We’ve waited this long.”

“Which is all the more reason to speed it up, Mister Thorne,” she teased.

He palmed her ass cheek and gave it a tight squeeze. “Careful, Miss York, or I’ll have to take control.”

“Maybe you should,” she said. He stilled, then there was the faintest chuckle as he withdrew. “Not like that!”

Then he lifted her and placed her on her knees on soft pillows. “Hands up in front of you,” he said calmly.

At the sound of his calm command, her entire body tied in a knot around that pulsing core between her legs. Her hands came up to find smooth wood. Drifting down, she found the firm edge of a headboard under her palms. Then he entered her again, sinking all the way in. When he was buried deep, he grabbed her thighs and spread them wider.

She was utterly under his spell. The darkness was a dangerous place to be with him. No one else was here to see her face, to hear the obscene noises that crawled up from her throat as he rocked into her.

Her fingers curled around the headboard as he dragged himself slowly out of her, then drove back in. His hands pushed her forward, then pulled her back to meet him, intensifying each stroke until she forgot to breathe.

“Is this more to your liking, Miss York?” he said, his voice strained.

She whimpered, hoping there was a sweet God, yes somewhere in the nonsense.

“You are a work of perfection,” he crooned, quickening his pace, a clear desperation overtaking his movements. His cool skin smacked against her thighs with each hard stroke.

She was dizzy with pleasure, so close again to that mind-shattering place where it was nothing but a sensation without shape and name. Suddenly, his strong arms encircled her and pulled her back to his chest. With her caged in his arms, he still thrust in slow, rhythmic strokes. One hand slid over her belly, down to her clit and stroked gently. She jolted in surprise, but he held her fast. He spoke in a low, rough voice. “Are you going to come?”

“Yes,” she panted.

“With me inside you?”

“Yes,” she repeated, pushing her hips to meet his hand. “Almost there.”

Still barely moving, he gently gripped her hair and pulled her head to one side. Her chest heaved in anticipation as he licked her neck, marking the place where he would drink. “May I drink?”

“Yes,” she blurted. “Will it hurt?”

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