Lothaire

“Gods, yes!” he roared, his back bowing.

Undeniable. As Lothaire’s delicious blood drenched her tongue, his mighty heart thundered in her ears, a drumbeat to his groans of ecstasy. “Suck, Lizvetta, until you can’t anymore. I’m strong for you.”

She did, drawing a rich, sultry rush from him. She felt as if she’d waited her entire life to drink like this. With each swallow, her breasts and sex swelled, her nipples jutting wantonly. She was aflame, her body seeming to throb with each beat of her heart—or of his?

Lothaire’s blood was affecting her in ways she couldn’t understand. She felt more alive than ever before, but her emotions were out of control.

One moment she thought she’d cry, the next, laugh hysterically. She sucked harder.

“Don’t stop, don’t release your fangs.” Easing onto his back, he rasped, “Must kiss you in turn.”

She kept him under her bite as he maneuvered her body to his side. “Scream, Lizvetta, scream for me.” When he burrowed his head between her legs, pressing his opened mouth to her, she did scream.

“Ah! Keep feeding,” he commanded her with a lash of his tongue, “and I’ll reward you.”

Dimly, she remembered the last time he’d said that. She wanted her reward, wouldn’t stop her suck until he pried her away.

He thrashed with pleasure when she kneaded her claws into his torso, drawing with greedy pulls. And then he covered her clitoris with his mouth, suckling her.

Rapture. Never take this away from me. She sank her claws into his ass. Never want this to end.

When he growled against her flesh, the vibrations pleasured her even more. About to come. To orgasm as she never had before.

His blood on her tongue. His flexing muscles snared beneath her claws. His shaft in her ravenous mouth.

She could feel his seed rising, thought she tasted it.

And when she perceived a tiny prick of his own fang, her eyes flashed open. She toppled over the edge.

Screaming . . . sucking deep . . . screaming more.

He snarled against her as his semen began to pump over his torso, reaching his chest.

The scent of seed, of sex. Of blood. Heaven.

Even after he’d come, he remained hard between her lips.

Between harsh breaths, he grated, “Love, you’re going to have to give me this back for your reward.” He cupped her face, pressing a thumb against her jaw muscle to make her release him.

She reluctantly did, giving his shaft longing licks as he pulled it from her. Losing my mind.

He carelessly wiped away some of his seed marking his chest, then traced between her legs. “Now that we’ve gotten that first frenzy out of the way . . .” He slipped his finger inside her slick core.

“Lothaire!” He gave her no quarter as he wedged a second finger deep inside. With flicks of his wrist, he wickedly thrust them, faster . . . deeper. The veins in his bulging arm and neck muscles now looked doubly sexy to her. “Is it . . . is it always like this?”

Human orgasm, firecracker. Vampire orgasm, atomic blast.

“Once we learn what your body can do? It will only get better. I’m going to make you love this, going to make you thank me for turning you into my kind.”

She shook her head hard. “I still haven’t accepted this—”

He tickled the top of her channel until she screamed.

“What was that, Bride?”

When he paused, she cried, “That’s not fair!”

“Should I be unfair once more, Lizvetta?” Another stroke, another pause.

Staring into his eyes, she again felt like she was making a deal with the devil, her soul given over in the space of a plea. “Please don’t stop. . . .”

50

Elizabeth’s irises were dark with emotion as he stroked her heat, her breaths shallow between her bloodstained lips. Simply looking at her made that ache return in his chest.

But Lothaire couldn’t allow himself to savor that unfamiliar feeling—or the staggering release they’d just shared. He had an agenda. He must convince her that this was the right course.

If his Bride had a fatal flaw, it was her stubbornness. Of course, now he loved that trait in her, found it admirable. Didn’t mean that she shouldn’t be coaxed from it at times.

He was up to the challenge.

Again he curled his finger inside her. Because his blood coursed within her, that little ridged spot had swelled—so much so that he would be able to feel it against his shaft when he took her, would feel it catch the rim of his engorged crown.

And, gods, how she would feel it. . . .

“I will shower you with pleasure, with wealth.” He began circling his thumb over her clitoris as he rubbed her inside. “You will never regret this. Tonight, I’m going to make you come a dozen more times, each one stronger than the last.”

A flicker of distress passed over her face. He’d heard from turned humans that sex as an immortal was a thousand times more intense. No wonder she feared.

“Shh, shh, love, you can take it now. I’d never do anything to your body that you wouldn’t thank me for later.”

“Like changing my species.”

Unashamed, he said, “Just so.” Removing his fingers, he shoved his hands under her ass and lifted her. With one swift thrust, he mounted his female.

* * *

Lothaire withdrew and delved his shaft deep, twisting those lean hips to make Ellie feel things she’d never known she could.

“Yes, yes! Yes?” She began to orgasm before she’d even comprehended how close she was. “Coming . . . oh, God!” She could feel her sex clenching his shaft again and again, while he shuddered and sweated above her, already on the verge himself.

“It won’t stop, Lothaire!” His cock was sliding over that spot inside her, making the orgasm go on and on.

He was merciless, kept plunging, plunging, until she was sobbing for mercy—while raising her hips for more.

But he gnashed his teeth, slowing his pace. “Do you accept this?” He threaded his fingers through her hair, gripping it, lifting her face to his. “Accept me?”

She could almost imagine he was saying forgive instead of accept. “I do! Oh, yes!” She would’ve told him anything at that moment, anything to keep him moving inside her.

He dipped down to kiss her, licking her lips, her sensitive fangs. As rich blood streamed between their tongues, she shredded the sheets with her new claws.

The first time they’d had sex, she’d begged him to be more gentle. Now she demanded, “Harder!”

“You want it hard?” His tone warned her that she might not.

Yet she found herself scoring his back to spur him. He shuddered, arching into her claws. And for the briefest moment, he cast her a look of . . . wonder?

Then the ruthless Lothaire returned. With a growl, he shoved her hips into the mattress, pounding against her. The sounds of their sex grew deafening—their skin slapping, her continuous moans, his guttural words in Russian.