Page 135 of You Only Love Twice
There was also, she suddenly realized, a rather insistent part of him pressing intimately against her thigh.
"Malloryn?" she gasped as his hips thrust against her.
She was no innocent. There'd been rather detailed lessons on a young lady's flesh rights and what to expect if she chose to give them to her new protector.
The act of taking blood was a sensual one, with the chemicals in a blue blood's saliva inducing release. Indeed, though she'd never felt the merest hint of pleasure in all the times she'd been cut and bled, she could feel it curling through her now with insidious, stroking fingers.
The situation changed.
Adele's swollen breasts pressed into her stays, the flesh between her thighs growing damp as Malloryn rocked against her. His hand cupped her breast, squeezing faintly, and Adele's eyes went wide with shock, for she was fairly certain he was going to deflower her on the floor of the Ivory Tower in a pool of blood if she wasn't careful.
"Malloryn! Stop!" She slammed an open palm to his shoulder.
He drew back with a gasp.
Rested his forehead on her shoulder for a long, drawn-out moment, his hand stilling on the curve of her breast.
Adele lay equally still, her heart rabbiting in her chest as though a dozen hounds hunted it.
Well. This was awkward.
She cleared her throat. "Your Grace. Are you feeling better?"
"Adele?" he rasped, as if her identity until that moment had been uncertain.
For a brief second, Adele regretted not hemlocking him. "Of course it's me. Who did you damned well think you were... rolling about on the floor with?"
Malloryn raised his head, his mouth dark with her blood, the move driving his hips between her thighs as he strained to lift himself.
Adele squeaked.
He looked utterly horrified and jerked his hand away from her breast. "What the devil are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" she snapped.
He stared at her, those black eyes still hungry, but a vague hint of uncertainty resting within them, as if he actuallydidn'tknow what she'd been doing.
"Relax, Your Grace," she said in an acid voice, though her cheeks flamed. "I was hardly trying to force a consummation. I found you on the floor. You were barely breathing, and you needed blood. Ergo, I gave you blood. Our current predicament is due purely to your intentions."
He pushed to a sitting position, tearing a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and blotting the blood from his lips as if he'd been poisoned. "Yougave me blood?"
Somehow Adele pushed to her feet, swaying a little as her head swam. Her skirts were all in disarray. Her body rampaged. She nearly tipped over, but Malloryn was suddenly tucked under her arm.
"You've given too much," he accused, as if she'd had a choice in the matter.
"Again, not by choice."
He'd overwhelmed her. Not by force, but by sensation.
Adele suffered the horrible feeling she'd been about to reach her pleasure beneath her husband.
Malloryn caught her chin firmly, examining the gash on her throat. She thought he muttered "Rutting hell" under his breath before he leaned down swiftly and licked the wound to try and seal it.
The small gesture almost made her eyes dampen.
She had a dozen scars there. Small, white little slashes that marred the perfection of the throat.Used goods, in a blue blood world.
There was no need to, but she appreciated the effort, for no one else had ever given a damn.
