Shadow's Claim

“I want you to make love to me.” Her cheeks and throat flushed with blood, tempting him to take a nip. But he wouldn’t have, even before she’d voiced her concerns. “I-I really want you to. But I just need to take other things slowly.”

Now that he understood what she was talking about, he could recognize the new tension in her body, the blunted desire. She wasn’t nervous—she was afraid.

“Look at me, love.” When she did, he said, “I can’t drink from you anyway.” What I do tonight affects us eternally.

“You can’t?”

“I have to keep control to make this good for you, perfect for you.” He wanted to make love to her till dawn, to give her memories to last an immortal’s lifetime—and to coax more of her affections. Capitalize on her passion . . .

If it proved perfect, she would fall for him. He had to believe that. “Remember when I told you how often I’ve envisioned this? I never once considered biting you during your first time.”

“You don’t think about it?”

A humorless laugh. “Ah, Bettina, it’s a fevered fantasy of mine. And it will remain so for now.” Because perfect would be hard won tonight.

Already his injuries would hamper him. With both his cock and fangs deep in her body, he’d probably come in an instant, and he feared that once he emptied himself inside her, he’d weaken even more.

She cast him a brilliant smile. “Then you do understand?” He could feel her relaxing beneath him. “My human friends told me that there’d be pain—and they’d only been with mortal males.”

“I’ll do everything I can to spare you hurt,” he said, drawing back to sit up. “Come.” When he held out his hand, she rose up on her knees and climbed over to him, her sweet breasts quivering.

Pulling her sideways across his lap, he leaned back against the headboard, hissing in a breath from the pain in his wounded neck—and from the pleasure of her bottom gliding over his engorged shaft.

Once he had his arms around her, he brought his forehead against hers. “I’m going to touch you inside, make you ready for me.” He cupped a possessive hand between her legs, massaging her there.

Eyes languid, she nodded. So trusting. So innocent.

With teasing caresses, he rubbed the pad of his forefinger over her clitoris. When he felt the little bud swell, he dipped his finger to her opening, just inside her core, stirring her. “Do you like that?” Her first time to be penetrated . . .

“Yes!”

“Deeper?”

In answer, she eased her thighs open for more.

He began sliding his finger farther inside, stunned by the snug heat that gloved it. She was already slick—but so tight. His cock jerked beneath her. Like me, it’s hungry for the virgin flesh I’m exploring.

When his finger moved deep inside her, she gasped. “Oh! That feels . . . good.” Her lids were growing heavy, her breaths shallow. Her irises sparkled.

“Another finger?” he grated.

She bit her lip and nodded.

He gingerly wedged a second one inside her, then delved the pair into her glistening sheath. With his thumb, he rubbed her clitoris until her head lolled.

Once he began slowly thrusting, she arched her back over his arm, jutting her breasts, beckoning his mouth. Had her little nipples ever been so stiff? He nuzzled them, licked at them, then latched on to one, suckling the peak hard.

She worked her hips, brazenly meeting each thrust. Her ass grinding over his aching shaft nearly robbed him of his seed.

No! Must make this perfect. My Bride, my prize.

Once he’d taken her to the very edge, when she was whispering, “Please, please, please,” he slipped his fingers from her. Laying her back down, he knelt between her spread legs.

No silk to bar my way.

She reached for him with outstretched arms. Her lashes lowered over her glittering eyes as her soft palms swept across his chest. The utter hunger in her gaze rocked him, humbled him, made him want to roar with satisfaction.

With a shaking hand, he tilted his length down—

Slick heat greeted the crown; when his shaft pulsed in reaction, the tip grazed up and down her cleft, as if stroking it, kissing it.

Where I would kill to be . . . The instinct to thrust was nigh undeniable. Cock throbbing for that kiss of wetness, he just prevented his hips from slamming home. Want inside!

No, control, Trehan!

Restraint took its toll. His body quaked; sweat beaded his skin. And still he shuddered with abject pleasure as he eased forward to her maidenhead.

Fixed tight. Silken folds hug the head. Don’t hurt her tender little sheath—

“Trehan, I need . . . I need you.” She began to undulate on the tip.

His frenzied gaze pinned hers. “Eşti a mea! Eternitate.” You are mine! Forever. With a shallow pump of his hips, he claimed his Bride.

* * *

Bettina’s eyes watered from the tugging pinch. Then came the sensation of being filled beyond her limit.

She was stretched so tightly around his penis that she could feel it pulsating inside her.

His every muscle bulged with strain, his face tense. He gazed down at her with a tormented look. She flashed him one of her own.

Before, pleasure. Now, pain.

He eased back, withdrawing; unexpected tingles radiated inside her, drowning out some of the twinges.

“More, Bett?” His voice was almost unrecognizable.

“Um . . . okay?”

As he slowly fed his shaft back inside her, she held her breath, trying to determine whether she liked this.

Undecided.

Another withdrawal. “Love, I’m going . . . to do it . . . harder.”

When she reluctantly nodded, he groaned and thrust; she didn’t know whether to expect pain or . . .

Pleasure! This time his shaft brought heat, fullness, friction. Her hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging in. In a strangled tone, she cried, “I-I love that!”

Whatever she was saying or doing made his tortured look deepen. “Waited a thousand years for this. Want to last the night through.” He withdrew once more, taking his hardness away. So she followed his hips, raising her own.

“Dragă, still!” He gripped her waist, holding her down. “You must not move!”

She froze.

Luckily, he didn’t. He kept rocking his penis in and out until she was panting, “More, vampire!”

He gave more.

“Ah, deeper.”

“Like this?” He sank himself as deep as he could, grinding against her clitoris with the most exquisite pressure. “Tell me what you need, love,” he rasped, his accent as thick as she’d heard it. His body was bowstring taut, muscles rigid beneath her nails. “I will give it to you—I swear.”

“That! Keep doing that . . .” Her clitoris ached for even more stimulation; he did give it to her, circling his hips, moving his body like a sinful dream.