Page 83 of Ophelia's Vampire

The thought should unsettle me more.

It should give me pause and make me withdraw from her, put some space between us so I can process and parse this out, try to decipher what it all means, but I don’t.

With her blood coursing through me, with warm satisfaction settling into every inch of my withered soul, I won’t let it ruin this.

No force in heaven or earth could make me turn away from her now.

“Is that so?” I ask, reaching for the thread of fractured conversation between us.

“Yeah,” she says, nipping at my throat again. “That is so.”

Fuck, the things it does to me to feel those blunt little teeth of hers. It sends my mind careening down paths that end in blood and bonds and other sacraments I can’t let myself dwell on now.

Ophelia reaches into the pants she’s loosened, curls her fingers around the length of my cock, and some of my earlier resolve to cede control slips. I bury my hands in her hair and pull her head back so she has to look at me.

I hold her gaze just like that while she strokes me, letting her see just what she does to me. Every groan and gasp, every bit of pleasure she wrings from me, it’s all hers to claim.

And she’s not unaffected, either. It only takes a few more hard strokes, a few thrusts of my hips into her hands in a blatant mimic of what I’d like to do to her body for Ophelia’s pulse to race and her breathing to grow fast and shallow. The decadent scent of her arousal perfumes the air between us, pushing me right to the edge of my control.

But Ophelia breaks first.

Releasing my cock, she shoves my pants roughly down around my thighs.

“Those can go, too,” she gasps.

I obey without hesitation, removing the rest of my clothing and leaving it in a heap by the bedside. By the time I’m done, Ophelia’s sprawled herself at the head of the bed, amongst the mounds of pillows and the rumpled duvet, reclining like a goddess awaiting worship.

And who would I be, if not her most devoted supplicant?

Still, as much as I might ache to bury myself in her, my sweet Ophelia’s divinity was meant to be savored.

I take my time exploring every inch of her. The delicate dip of her ankle, a little spot on the inside of one knee that makes her gasp and squirm when I run my fang over it. The softness of her inner thigh and the mark I left on the sensitive skin just above her cunt. When I pause there to run my tongue over the healing wounds, she cries out and buries her hands in my hair, tugging hard and sending an electric thrill of sensation over my scalp.

I could easily lose myself in feasting on her again, but Ophelia’s nearly as impatient as I am for something else. Something hot and burning and insistent between us that demands fulfillment as she moves her hands to my shoulders and tries to pull me over her.

“Please,” she moans. “Enough, Cas. Please.”

There will be time later to wring more of those sounds from her—more of those gasps and moans and pretty pleas—but my fortitude is running as thin as hers. I settle myself between her thighs, and Ophelia reaches down between our bodies, grasping the length of me and lining up with her entrance.

Ophelia’s cunt is hot and wet. Her hips jerk up to meet me, and a needy little whimper slips out when I don’t immediately give into her silent demand.

But there’s one more thing I need. One last affirmation that all of this isn’t some dream or some blood-addled fantasy.

“Tell me.”

Ophelia bucks and strains against me where I have my cock poised right at her entrance. I slide a bare inch into her and it makes her even more wild, her breath coming in ragged pants and her body straining to meet mine.

“Tell me you want this,” I say, barely recognizing the low, rough rasp of my voice. “Please, Ophelia. Tell me—”

“I want this. I wantyou, Cas. I want—”

I drive into her in one sure stroke. Ophelia arches to meet me, a hoarse cry of pleasure wrenched from her throat.

Gods, the feel of her.

The mind-numbing heat and softness of her, the slick warmth and the tight grip of her body as she cants her hips, winds her arms up around my neck, and draws me closer.

“Fuck, Cas,” she breathes. “I—I—”