Page 42 of Aberrant Monsters
“Or to hide something frightening,” he added. “I don’t need a mask to frighten anyone, so I can only assume it hides something.”
Assume? “You don’t know?”
“No.”
“Why haven’t you taken it off to look?”
He didn’t respond, but the way his face froze for a second answered my question. “You’re afraid.”
He growled softly. “I’m not afraid of anything. I’m the fucking monster under the bed.” His gaze slid to my throat. “A hungry monster.”
We had a deal. There was no getting out of it, not without his consent, so I ignored my galloping heart and held his gaze. “Then maybe you should stop talking and—”
His fangs slid into my jugular, cutting off my words, and his weight pressed me into the mattress. The initial pain melted into a slow, simmering heat that spread from the point of contact, across my neck, and down to my breasts, forcing them to swell and my nipples to tighten. I squeezed my eyes closed and swallowed a moan, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets to stop myself from touching him, because the damn hunger I’d thought I had under control was waking up. It was an unraveling spiral in my lower abdomen, reaching out its ravenous fingers to tease my intimate place until it was wet and wanting. He needed to stop sucking on my neck like it was a delicious popsicle because every pull of his mouth felt like a sensual assault on my core.
Gray light filled the room.
Oh, thank God, dawn was almost here.
He pulled his mouth from my skin with a soft kissing sound, then laved the wound with the flat of his tongue to close it, sending a fresh shiver down my body and straight to the hot spot between my thighs.
My breath was rapid and shallow. “Are you done?”
He locked gazes with me, his eyes dark, expression relaxed and sated. “I can smell your arousal, August.”
Oh, fuck, he needed to stop saying my name. “Wow, that’s not creepy at all.”
“I can soothe that ache. Quid pro quo.”
Yes, fuck yes, I needed it.
I clenched my jaw. “No thanks. I’m good.”
“You need release.”
I felt the pressure of his hand between my thighs and pushed up against it before I could check myself. My clit throbbed eagerly. I needed to pull away. Push him away. Instead, I rolled my hips against his hand, crying out at how good it felt.
“Take it,” he ordered. “Take what you need.”
I didn’t want to cave, but my body had other ideas.
“Shit.” I turned my head to the side, unable to stop the motion of my hips against his hand. “Oh, shit.”
He stayed still, providing resistance, pressure, something hard to grind up against until—
My core clenched, hungrily milking something that wasn’t there. Stars lit up the insides of my eyelids.
Oh, God. Oh God, yes. My body spasmed then relaxed, hips falling back onto the bed.
The buzz in my head died and shame gripped me by the throat. What had I done?
I could sense him hovering above me, feel his gaze on the side of my face. Slowly, reluctantly, I opened my eyes and turned my head to look at him.
I wasn’t sure what reaction I’d been expecting. Maybe a smirk, or a smug expression, but it wasn’t this…this look of awe and…longing.
Why was he looking at me like that? Why did it make it harder to breathe?
I didn’t want this. Didn’t want to see those emotions on his face. “Don’tevertouch me like that again.”
