Page 60 of Vampire Soldier

“I want that,” she whispers.

Gods.

I nearly lose my mind.

“But first—” Her hands move to my jacket and I realize we’re still dressed. Then we’re stripping each other—fierce, frantic, like neither of us can wait another second. I shrug off the jacket in one smooth motion, my hands returning to her jaw, her waist, the curve of her hips. She claws at my shirt, and I tear it open, desperate to feel her skin on mine.

Her fingers roam my chest, drifting over muscle and old scars, worshipping every inch as if it might vanish. I strip the rest of her dress from her, taking my time with the zipper, then the straps, until she’s bare before me.

She tugs my belt with shaking hands, laughing breathlessly against my mouth when the leather finally gives. I help her shove it down, then gently press her back onto the bed and ease her shoes off her feet. I kick off my own, never taking my eyes off her.

We undress the rest of the way together, tangled in half-whispers and gentle touches. My mouth finds the hollow of her throat, her breast, the space behind her knee. Every kiss is a promise. Every sigh she gives me is a vow.

When we’re finally skin to skin, nothing else matters. Not the club. Not the city. Not the shadows lurking beyond these walls.

Only this.

Only us.

Taking a breath, I grip her chin gently. I wait until she meets my gaze. “This won’t hurt,” I swear. “And if you want me to stop, I will. Just say the word.”

Her blue-green eyes are bright with trust and I am wholly unworthy of her.

“I trust you.” Her words are a balm I never knew I needed.

I bend, breathing her in. The smallest gasp escapes—a beautiful sound right in my ear. My fangs throb with the need to sink into her, and I dig my hand into the bed to steady myself. I need to be gentle. She deserves to be cherished, not devoured by a monster.

With aching control, I brush my nose along her jaw until my lips are poised above where neck meets shoulder. Her skin is so soft I can’t resist pressing a small kiss there. She shudders beneath me, and I can’t stop a smirk.

Before reason slips away, I strike. My fangs slice her flesh, sinking easily into her. Blake arches her back, her breath leaving her in a moan. Her blood floods my mouth and I groan, greedily swallowing the life-sustaining liquid. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, neither pushing me away nor pulling me closer.

Her blood is intoxicating, the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. The ache inside me—the one that’s been growing since I first met Blake—finally begins to ease. Her flavor is addictive; I’m lost in her.

Her gasping moans morph into panting breaths. I’m so caught up in her blood, I barely register the way my body shifts above her until one of Blake’s thighs brushes my cock, a jolt of heat lancing through me at the contact. I pull back, my hunger sharpened rather than sated.

“Are you okay?”

I freeze atop her, barely having moved to leave. Looking down, she’s watching me with half-lidded eyes. The scent of her arousal blends with blood in the air. I’m the vampire, yet she’s the one asking if I’m okay.

I swallow hard and keep my gaze on hers. If I look at the thin trickle of blood on her neck, I’ll be back there in a second, lapping it up like I’m starved. “I can stop,” I manage.

“I don’t want you to,” she whispers, her words making my cock throb. “It feels good.”

She releases one hand to cup my face. My eyes close, leaning into her touch, desperate for more. Feeding can be so impersonal at times, but like this—this is always my favorite. A connection between two people, where trust and respect exist.

Her hand slides from my cheek into my hair. I can’t resist as she guides me back down to her throat.

We both moan as my fangs break skin once more. Her fingers tug my hair, sending shivers down my spine, straight to where I ache for her. I’m throbbing, aching to bury myself in her.

I swallow another mouthful and grind my cock against her, slicking her stomach. Blake arches up, moaning my name.

That’s it. I pull from her neck and lap up the blood seeping from her wounds.

I’ve reached the end of my rope. I need her—need more of her. I grab her thigh, moving her leg up around my waist. I drop my hips, cock pressing hard against her scorching core. The scent of her arousal is thick in the air and I grind against her as my mouth returns to her neck.

“Mal,” she gasps. Her other leg curls up, ankles locking at my lower back. She’s circled one arm around my shoulders, her hand still buried in my hair. She pulls my head back from her neck and I’m not fast enough to hide the crimson eyes or the fangs I know are still bared.

Blake doesn’t flinch. Her eyes are hazy with need, lips parted, chest heaving—and all I can focus on are her hard nipples pressing against my bare chest.

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