Page 140 of Craving Carla

He caresses my cheek again, his touch feather-light. “When I lie down for my slumber, I daydream of this beautiful life with you. We have this beautiful routine where we wake up together, make love, and I feed on you.” His voice drops lower. “But I have my claim mark—the one you’ve given me.” “I wish I could do it,” I say, the longing clear in my voice.

Amari places a finger to my lips, then moves his hand down to my breast, pressing his palm against it, feeling my heartbeat. “I have a much more beautiful gift than the mate bond itself. My mate loves me, genuinely loves me, and she doesn’t need the mate bond to feel that love.”

I gasp at his words, the truth of them hitting me hard.

“I’m holding back because I want that fantasy,” he admits. “Not because I don’t want to feed on you.”

He moves his hand down from my breast and unbuttons my jeans. “Take these off,” he commands. “Along with your panties.”

I gasp and sit up immediately, lifting my hips and pulling them down, kicking them off my ankles. Amari grips my hips and repositions me on his lap so that I’m straddling him. I moan when I feel the hardness of his dick press against me, even through the fabric of his boxer briefs. Amari takes his fingers and brushes them over my claim mark. My head tilts back, and I moan from the sensation—electric, intense, intimate.

“Every time we make love,” he says, his voice husky, “I have to suppress the urge to feed on you. My attention is drawn to your pulse points, a reminder of the predator inside me. The places I want to bite down on your flesh, marking your body.”

His hands move from my neck to my breasts, to my ass, squeezing gently, then around to between my legs, running his fingers over my pussy. I moan and lean in for a kiss. The kiss is tender, even as the heat between us continues to build.

Amari grabs my wrist and presses at my pulse, bringing it to his lips. He places gentle kisses on it, his breath hot against my skin.

“This will take things to the next level,” he warns, his voice serious despite the desire radiating from him. “I will crave you in ways that will frighten you. Are you ready for that? Are you ready for that kind of passion?”

I gasp, then meet his intensity with my own. “Yes.”

Amari smiles, but there’s something dangerous in it now. “Tell me you love me, Carla. Tell me you want me to feed on you.”

“I love you, Amari,” I say, my voice steady. “I want you to feed on me.”

Amari’s fangs extend, sharp and deadly. He watches my reaction as he brings my wrist to his mouth and bites down.

There’s a sharp sting as his fangs pierce my skin, and I wince at the initial pain. But there’s something deeply erotic about it too—about the way he’s consuming me, taking part of me into himself. Amari remains focused on me, watching carefully, ready to stop at any sign of true distress.

I start to relax as the pain subsides, replaced by a strange, pleasurable warmth that spreads up my arm and throughout my body. I run my free hand through his soft curls and rest my forehead against his, feeling closer to him than I ever have before.

After a moment, Amari pulls his fangs out of my wrist. He hisses; his mouth and teeth covered in my blood. He releases my wrist, licking the puncture wounds to help them heal.

“Carla,” he says, his voice deeper, rougher. “My sweet peachy Carla, you taste divine.”

“Kiss me,” I demand, and he does, his mouth crashing into mine. I can taste my own blood as he devours me with his mouth, fucking me through the kiss, his tongue demanding and possessive.

I don’t even realize what’s happening until it does—I slide down on his dick, taking him in fully. I break away from his lips and throw my head back, overwhelmed by the sensation of him filling me completely.

His hands move to my hips, guiding me up and down. My hands dig into his shoulders, needing something to anchor meas pleasure builds inside me. The feeling is more intense than usual, heightened by the intimacy of the blood sharing.

“Now I want you to come on my dick,” Amari growls, his voice barely recognizable.

I moan, my body tensing as the pressure builds. I’m getting wetter with each movement, my body responding to him in ways it never has before. It feels so good—impossibly good—like every nerve ending is alive and singing.

Amari grips the back of my neck and moves to my claim mark, kissing my neck while he bounces me up and down on his dick with his other hand. “I’ve always wanted this,” he pants against my skin. “Fantasized about it. Claiming you over and over again, proving how much I crave you, how much I desire you, how much I love you.”

Amari bites down on my neck, and I cry out—not in pain but in ecstasy. I feel an orgasm building inside me, gathering force like a storm. Amari licks the wound and pulls back, his expression intent, feral, dangerous in a way I’ve never seen before.

He’s bouncing me harder, faster now, and his face contorts with pleasure. I can see his own orgasm building in him as well, his control slipping away. “I love you,” I gasp, the words torn from me.

Amari begins panting, moving me harder and faster up and down on his dick. “Oh Carla, you have no idea the ways I’m going to worship you now.” My orgasm crashes through me like an explosion, wave after wave of intense pleasure radiating outward from where we’re joined. Amari fucks me through it, prolonging the sensation until I’m trembling and incoherent.

He follows shortly after, guiding me up and down until he can’t anymore. With a growl, he quickly flips me onto my back, sliding out of me. He presses his lips to mine in a deep,passionate kiss, my own blood from his feeding running down the corners of my mouth.

When he pulls back, he looks at me, gently caressing my face, searching for something. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice tender despite the wildness still evident in his demeanor.

I nod, still catching my breath. “Yes.”

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