Lothaire

She tensed even more.

“Sweet Lizvetta, with your hot skin and hot blood.” He stretched her arms over her head, pinning her wrists there once more. “Let me see if I can’t stoke a fever in you.” With his free hand, he rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Do you like this?”

“No!” She gasped out the word.

“Liar. And what about this?” He pinched the other one.

Her hips bucked. “No!”

At her ear, he purred, “Be my dear, and tell me you want me.”

“I won’t do it!”

He bent to one of her breasts. She felt his warm breath fanning over it and barely kept her eyes open.

He’d never suckled her before. He’d wanted to the first night, but she’d denied him. During their second time together, he’d been intent on other things. Now his desire was clear.

“Look at your pretty nipples.” His tongue twirled one, making her choke back a cry. “They beg me to taste them, blood stiffening them until they’re like little berries. It will be everything I can do not to pierce them.” He snared the tip between his teeth . . . and gently tugged.

She heard a whimper, could barely believe that carnal sound had come from her.

His lips curled into a grin before he closed them around the peak to suck. His mouth was searing as his tongue lashed her.

When he drew back to watch her reaction with his wicked red gaze, she was panting, fighting the urge to arch up for more.

“Ah, you like that.” As he nibbled and sucked her other breast, his fingers trailed down her body, circling her navel. Against her wet nipple, he rasped, “And you liked when I touched you here, didn’t you?” His hand snaked under the teddy.

“No!” she cried as his forefinger glided between her folds.

“You don’t want me to continue?” He stopped everything—his suck on her breast, the skillful play of his fingers.

“Lothaire . . .”

“Beg me to. Tell me you need me, that you desire me alone.”

She shook her head.

“I feel your trembling, feel you getting slick. Why are you being so stubborn?”

Stubborn? That was the one thing she couldn’t seem to be with him! Because right then, all she wanted was for him to make love to her with his mouth and hands.

“For seven days, Lizvetta, I’ve thought of this constantly. I know you’ve needed me as I have you.” The underlying vulnerability in his words was almost her undoing.

But then he went back to aggressive Lothaire. “Fuck this. I’ve got a week’s worth of seed for you—and you’re already on the verge.” He began stroking between her legs again. “You might not beg with words, but your body’s pleading.”

Wait. A week’s worth? Realization surfaced in her desire-saturated mind. Then Saroya truly hadn’t pleasured him tonight? Sex was obviously important— critical—to him, and Saroya wasn’t putting out.

Maybe Ellie had been right and Saroya had never put out. Perhaps the goddess of blood wasn’t a goddess in bed? “Lothaire, tell me that I don’t compare to Saroya.”

His fingers slowed. “What?”

“You heard me. You’ll tell me directly after we come, so I just want to get it out of the way now. Tell me, ‘You don’t compare to Saroya.’ Then I can relax—I’ll be all yours.”

“I’m busy right now.” Another rapturous stroke.

Concentrate, Ellie! “Just tell me those five words, and then I’ll do anything you want me to.”

“Soon you’ll do anything that I want anyway.”

He can’t say it. Lothaire was beginning to feel something for her.

When she’d mentioned another man, the vampire had seemed jealous. Earlier, she’d asked him about tender thoughts toward her, and he’d deflected that question as well.

Which means the game—with my one available move—is still in play.

Seduction.

Perhaps she should give the vampire exactly what he’d wanted. Ear horn, Sadie? Well, Ellie had something she desperately needed to communicate to him.

I want to live, to be free of Saroya!

“Lothaire, I think I do compare to her in your eyes.”

“Think whatever you like.” Drawing his hands away from her, he lay back, tense with frustration. But again, he didn’t deny it.

I still have a shot with him! “She doesn’t desire you like I do, does she?”

His fists clenched, his expression heralding another rage.

* * *

“What have I said about watching your tongue?” Lothaire hadn’t wanted this mortal to know Saroya didn’t desire him, but of course, nothing escaped Elizabeth.

His nerves were frayed, his fury escalating. His cock and balls were so swollen with pent-up need they felt like they’d been battered. Suckling her plump breasts and hard little nipples had only made the pain grow. . . .

She turned to her side, cupping his face with her palms. When he eventually shifted to face her, she said, “Saroya can’t want you as much as I do, Lothaire. No one can.”

So similar to what he’d said about Elizabeth.

In a breathy voice, she murmured, “I’ve been aching for you.”

Gods, how he loved hearing that, like a balm on his pride. “Say it again. Tell me how much you ache.”

“I’ll show you.” When she leaned in and pressed her lips to his, he worked to control himself—taking her mouth in a slow, languorous kiss, their tongues lazily tangling.

Just as in the past, she melted for him. Yes, Lizvetta! This is what I need from you.

But why give it to him now? He broke away. “What’s brought about this change?”

“Do you care?”

“Normally? Do pizdy. Now I’m suspicious.”

“I thought you’d just been with Saroya and were trying to get with both of us in one night. I was pissed. And damn it, I was as jealous as the day is long.”

Jealous? Finally! And only fitting, since jealousy still seethed inside Lothaire for Elizabeth’s imaginary man, and he couldn’t comprehend why.

She rose up and kissed his ear, nuzzling it with sultry breaths, then she pressed her mouth lower to his collar bone. Another kiss on his chest followed.

An imaginative male could think she was taking those lips all the way down. He turned to his back, his shaft surging in readiness.

“My poor, poor vampire”—she tongued one of his nipples, making him shudder—“all you ever wanted was me in a red teddy, giving you head.”

Somehow he tensed even more. Voice gone hoarse, he asked, “Am I to have what I want at last?”

“No.” She removed her gown all the way, tossing it aside. “Only the head.”

“I suppose I’ll have to make do.”

Her lips curled. “I’m hungry for you, Lothaire.”

“Are you, then?” His tone was dubious.

“When I sucked your thumb, I imagined it was the crown.” She continued her trail downward. “I’ve dreamed of it, too.”

So that is what she dreams of? “Your behavior is . . . unexpected.”

“Now, I’ve never done this before, so I won’t be quite as expert at it like I was at riding you.”

Insolent chit.