He really was a drug, I thought foggily—he was a drug and I was addicted and didn’t even care. He fell backward on the bed, taking me down with him, not breaking contact. One quick move and he was on top of me, his thigh parting my legs, completely exposing me. I eyed his fangs and pleasure shuddered through me. I turned my head to the column of my throat was exposed to him.
Is that really what you want, Selena?
Oh shit, I’d been so into this I’d totally forgotten the whole I’m in your head part of our relationship. He cupped my face, tipping it back to he could clearly see me.
If it is…I’ve wanted to taste you for days.
His tone, as always, was neutral, leaving me to make the choice. It would have been easier for him to take control, but leaving me the choice…
Yes, I thought. I want your teeth in me the same time your cock is.
Where that bold statement came from, I wasn’t sure, but tonight, I wanted all of Bastian Forge. I wanted his ferocity; I wanted his intelligence and his humor. I wanted to drink whisky together and talk about malting and fly to Scotland with him.
God help me, but I wanted it all.
You have me, love. All of me, for as long as you want.
His eyes flashed as he said it, his face turning leaner, the angles sharper. In return, I spread my legs and bared my throat to him, my hands lightly resting on his shoulders. Will it hurt? I wondered, his hips settling between my legs, his cock pressing against my clit, the hot, grinding pressure inside me ramping up inside as he moved against me.
No.
Keeping up the slow rubbing, he unbuttoned the shirt, exposing me inches at a time, until it fell open. I knew what I must look like right now: my hair a wet tumble of snarls, my face bruised, nothing to my name at the moment, not even clothes. But I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was how Bastian looked at me, reverence in his face as he reached down and cupped my breast, his thumb teasing circles around my nipple.
“Please…” I begged, writhing against him as my aching need grew more intense.
“I’ve got you, love.”
I really, really liked that.
“Tonight, I’ll give you everything you need.”
Sliding his hand down my body, he positioned himself at my entrance, rubbing the head of his cock in my slippery folds, finally notching himself into the opening, then pushing slowly in, filling me up. My hips jerked up, impaling him even deeper, as I clutched his shoulders.
He lowered his mouth to my throat, licking a path from my jaw to my collarbone, then did it again, leaving my skin cold and sensitive. His mouth closed over my throat, then there was a warm rush as he fed—no pain; not so much as a needle prick. I turned my head further, giving him more access, feeling like I wanted him to have every part of me tonight.
Anesthetic in my fangs. Particular to some of the old Scottish clans.
I like the way it feels.
I did. Bastian’s slow pulls at my throat kept in perfect time with him plunging into me; the sensation of him taking and giving at the same time was a heady aphrodisiac. My inner muscles bore down on his cock, the pressure almost too much as he slowly moved in and out, each stroke driving me higher, my hearing muffled, my fingers digging into his muscles as he rode me relentlessly.
This was what I’d craved, this out-of-control, on-the-edge-of-the-world-about-to-plunge feeling. My orgasm hit me out of nowhere, muscles spasming helplessly, as Bastian licked my neck again and picked up the pace as he fucked me. This one went on forever, until my legs cramped and my head was about to explode and every muscle in me felt tight and loose at the same time.
With a low growl, Bastian dipped his head and pounded into me, sparing nothing as he came, hot liquid coating my pussy, the insides of my thighs and the bottom of my stomach.
He dropped his head to the curve of my shoulder and collapsed, both of us panting.
There was no doubt about it: I was totally and completely in love with Bastian Forge.
And that was before we moved on to round two.
Epilogue
I rose up on my toes and waved to Bastian over the huge, boisterous whisky-drinking crowd, just as Seamus swept in from the side, looking like something out of a fairy tale. He’d opted for bright green attire tonight, from his hat to his shoes, making him look like a drunken, shiny leprechaun.
Bastian and I were in green as well, my lover’s kilt a sedate plaid, my dress solid emerald, but the swath of plaid across my shoulder matching his. When Bastian reached me, he took my hand, grinning at Seamus until I kicked his shin.
“You look…festive tonight, Seamus,” Bastian said, trying not to laugh. He looks like a rabid leprechaun.
Stop it, Bastian. He’s so happy to be here. As am I.
“It’s the final night,” Seamus said. “Of course I look festive. Had to get prettied up if I was to hold a candle to you two.”
Glasgow’s Annual Whisky Faire offered a wide assortment of scotch whiskies, from newly bottled blends to vintages a hundred years old. Part of me wished we hadn’t drunk Ambrose’s last bottle, but that couldn’t be helped.
Besides, we were just here to have fun.
The crowd parted as a huge pair of shoulders appeared, Cade’s glowering face looming above them as he joined us. “Bunch of worthless humans,” he growled, leaning in for effect. “Drinking all the whisky.”
“It’s a whisky tasting, Cade,” I said. “That’s why they’re here.”
True to form, Cade ignored me and instead gave Seamus’s green suit a withering
