Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
With a yank, he throws the blanket over us.
Both of us silent, I simply try to catch my breath. He runs his fingers through my hair, then trails them down my back. Over and over again, stroking me into a comfortable oblivion. His touch, so vicious and so gentle. Both at the same time. He’s a contradiction. But I’ve just given him my body, this monster who I know I can’t trust.
He’s a contradiction, but maybe I am, too.
I wake to him stroking along my skin, his fingers following the curve of my side. Back and forth, almost lazily.
The night comes back to me in vivid detail, and I reach up to feel my neck.
“Healed.” He runs his fingertips down my back to the curve of my ass.
“How?” I open my eyes and look up at him.
The look in his eyes. No longer predator and prey. It’s almost … reverent. The sheer possessiveness of it, of his touch, has me resting my cheek on his chest again. That’s when I realize we’re not in my bedroom.
Disorientation makes me wary. I move to slide off him, but his hand comes down on the small of my back.
“Don’t.” He sighs.
“Where are we?”
“My apartment.”
“When did we get here?”
“You don’t remember screaming my name in this bed?” His arrogance is still intact, but he doesn’t stop petting me.
“Yes, but I thought …” He must’ve carried me down here so quickly that I didn’t even register it. Holy shit.
“You’re where you belong.” He spreads his palm across my back. “With me.”
“What about the gargoyles? Aren’t they looking for me?” Against my better judgment, I let my eyes close. I breathe him in, his touch sending shivers and goosebumps across my skin.
“Gargoyles?” He lets out a small sharp laugh. “You mean the wardens. They’re dead. The moment I discovered they’d abandoned you to the mob …” Stroke, strooooooke. “Well, let’s say that the Army won’t be finding pieces of them anywhere.”
“Won’t Gregor, I don’t know, be mad you killed them?”
“Maybe, but he’s far more interested in your work than their lives. I’ll take the risk.”
“You’re so warm.” I tuck my hands beneath his back. I should be leaving, doing the walk of shame up to my place. My rational mind knows it. I just can’t seem to act on it. “What do I taste like?”
He plays with my hair, his fingers sifting the strands. “You taste like mine.”
“Like your blood? Because you gave it to me earlier?”
“No. Like mine.”
I swallow hard and tell myself this is just some intense pillow talk. I’m not his. This isn’t anything more than releasing some tension after surviving a particularly dicey day. Even so, I snuggle tighter to him, my skin humming at all the contact. “You said my blood calls to yours. What does that mean?”
“So many questions. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“Shouldn’t you?” I fire back.
“I don’t need to rest like you do.”
“You don’t sleep?”
“I do.”
“Do you sleep hanging upside down like a bat?”
He snorts another laugh, his chest shaking. “No. Would you like me to?”
I look up at him again, his eyes dark in the low light. “Is it safe to talk here?”
“Safer than at your place.” With an easy motion, he flips me onto my front on the bed, his body pressing against my back. “Which is good, because there are things you need to know.”
“Finally!”
He presses a kiss to my spine.
I squeal when he presses his legs between mine, his hard cock against my ass. “What are you doing?”
“I thought you were a medical doctor?” he purrs. “Must I explain this to you in detail?” He moves his hips until his cock is against my entrance. “Or perhaps the physical demonstration will suffice.”
My fingers curl in the sheets as he thrusts forward. I’m sore but not sore enough to stop him. He fills me so completely, my body stretching to accommodate him. He groans, his hands covering mine, our fingers interlacing. Lifting my hips, I take him even deeper, an ache beginning inside me that can only end one way.
“Tell me,” I breathe. “Tell me everything.”
“After.” He fists my hair, forcing me to arch for him.
I press my palms into the bed, leveraging myself against him with each thrust. He feels so good, so right that I want more. He sucks my neck, my eyes rolling back from the pure pleasure of it, and when he reaches around and palms one of my breasts, I moan.
“That’s it.” He thrusts harder, jarring the bed and sending me higher. “Give me what’s mine, Georgia.”
He bites my shoulder, and I let out a cry from somewhere deep inside. He growls against my skin, his fangs eliciting that first burst of pain followed by inexplicably profound ecstasy. His fingers find my clit, and he plays me as his thrusts grow more feral, more wild, his fangs still embedded in my skin. Forbidden and wrong, a violation, but one that sets my soul on fucking fire.