Page 56 of Taste of Blood
“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
You would think, after the orgasm he just gifted me, that I’d be done for the night. After all, my body has sustained serious damage. But maybe that five-star blood he gave me worked its magic, because as soon as he strips down to get into bed, I find myself growing hard again.
Asher has a runner’s body, sleek and firm. He’s not thin, but he doesn’t have the packed muscle I have. What he lacks in bulk, however, he makes up for in stamina. I know for a fact he can go all night, and that thought goes straight to my dick.
His eyes find mine in the filtered light from the shadeless windows, his pupils blown as he stalks toward the bed.
“Like what you see, baby?”
He’s a confident motherfucker. I growl low in my throat, trying and failing to resist him. I’m great at avoiding him when he’s not around, but when we’re together I have no willpower.
He crawls up the bed, his firm legs on either side of mine, his tongue sliding out to lick his lips still swollen from sucking my cock.
“I was going to let you sleep,” he purrs, his whiskey-smooth voice wrapping around me like a warm glove, “but your eyes and your cock say you need something more. And who am I to deny you?”
I can face down all manner of supernatural baddies, but I have no defense against him. Doesn’t matter if I tell myself I’m fine without him. That I don’t need him in my life.
Because when he’s here–his sinful body crouched over mine, his sharp green eyes peering into my soul, his musk and woodsy scent filling my head, his voice with that soft Georgia accent caressing my ears–I’m a hopeless addict. He’s a drug I can’t resist.
And maybe I’m just realizing I don’t want to.
At least, not tonight.
I’ll worry about tomorrow when it gets here.
He bends over me, his tongue lashing out to circle my nipple, his teeth nibbling at the sensitive flesh. His cock hangs heavy over mine, and I find myself straining to rub against it.
“Want some of that?”
I nod, unable to speak, and he inches up, his thighs straddling my shoulders, and guides his veiny cock to my lips.
“Get me ready for you. I love having my aching cock stuffed in your mouth.”
His filthy words spur me on, and I tilt my head forward and lap at the precum pooling on his head. One taste is all it takes to ignite my hunger. I close my lips around him and suck him in, my tongue circling his growing length.
His is the only cock I’ve ever allowed in my mouth, and I’m reminded of how much I’ve missed it. I work him up and down while he plays with my nipples, squeezing and twisting them until my own dick is straining for attention. As if he can read my mind, one hand reaches back and closes around it, using my precum to stroke it. I moan, desperate to feel more. To taste more.
I swallow him, the crown of his engorged head filling my throat. I buck against him, taking my frustration out on his cock, and he chuckles darkly.
“So impatient.”
He straightens and pulls back, his cock leaving my mouth with an audible pop as he reaches across me for the bottle of lube on the nightstand. Squirting some in his hand, he inches back down my body to bend my legs forward to give him access to my ass. He works two fingers inside, probing me until I’m squirming, finding my prostate and sending sparks flashing in front of my eyes.
“Let me know if I hurt you,” he murmurs before guiding his cock to my hole.
“Full of yourself today?”
“I’m talking about your injuries, asshole.”
I’ve forgotten all about that. Right now all I want is to have his rock hard cock buried deep inside me.
He thrusts forward and the crown breeches the first ring of muscle, silencing any further comment I might have had. I grunt and bear down, squeezing him, and now it’s his turn to groan.
“Fuck me, Cord, you feel so good around my cock.”
That drives me to push harder, to meet his thrusts. To give up every ounce of control I have to him.
He owns me.
