Her heart lurched in her chest with such ferociousness, she almost gasped.
With Tucker, every emotion was heightened. Like her consciousness was alerting her of something. Growing louder each time she didn’t acknowledge it. But she had to ignore what it was trying to tell her, didn’t she? The truth, that this man did make her feel like a queen…a queen with her king standing right in front of her…could prove far too problematic.
Acknowledging that truth would affect more lives than merely her own. It would be selfish. And so she would ignore whatever greedy message her heart was trying to convey.
But she couldn’t ignore her body’s directives.
They weren’t merely emotional, they were violently chemical, and the elements took charge now, electrifying every molecule that made her up. She could feel Tucker’s stiff arousal beneath her bottom, the stroke of his fingertips through her hair growing more and more insistent, like he was being compelled to touch her any way possible. What was he looking at? Her mouth? Her breasts? The towel was loosening with every one of her expansive breaths, her nipples peaked, aching for his attention. And when she turned in his lap and he growled, wetness coursed down, down, pooling between her thighs.
“Were you touching yourself in the bath, Mary?” Tucker breathed against her temple, placing his hand on the knot of her towel. “Were you using those fingers you trace all over my face and chains and rubbing them on your little clit, instead?”
“Yes.”
The word whooshed out of her.
This man speaking to her in such coarse terms was Tucker, but he was a sexually frustrated version of him. And she thrilled to the difference, squirming her backside on his erection when she shouldn’t. Hadn’t he told her that physical contact between them only led to one-sided pleasure? Was she really so self-centered?
Why couldn’t she stop tempting him, even though it wasn’t fair?
Because she could sense his want. His need. His desperation for her. Would he be feeling this intense hunger for her if nothing good would come out of it for him?
It didn’t make sense.
But sense didn’t matter in that moment, only touching Tucker did.
Being touched in return. Putting out the fire that built and built inside of her.
Mary arched her back and twisted, loosening the towel as much as possible without the use of her hands. No, they were busy gripping Tucker’s collar, trying to haul his mouth down for a kiss. Why wouldn’t he kiss her? Couldn’t he tell she would die otherwise?
“Tucker.” Lust rose like a mallet and landed a sensual blow, her intimate muscles constricting painfully. “Oh please. Please.”
Finally, their mouths surged together, tongues invading without preamble and she turned in his big lap, yanking off her towel and trying to straddle him. Needing friction between her thighs and needing it now. Now.
In a blur of motion, she was thrown down onto a soft surface. Face up.
The bed. Elvis.
Even without the song playing, she could hear the gentle strains of the melody layered beneath the shallow pulls of her breathing, the knocking of her heart. And then Tucker’s palm scraped down the middle of her nude body, between her breasts, down her stomach, ending up at the juncture of her thighs where he squeezed her sex with ownership. “All hot and bothered, aren’t you?” His lips sipped at her nipples, one at a time, sending her nerve endings into a frenzy of delight. “I’ll make it better, Mary. That’s what you need and I’m done fighting. I’ll keep you satisfied on this trip because it’s my fault. Somehow I’m doing this to you and I’ll go insane if you go on needing me without satisfaction. But Jesus, honey, there has to be rules, all right?”
“Like?”
His open mouth dragged to her neck and he inhaled roughly. “I can’t drink from you.”
Drink from you. The mere suggestion sent a wave of longing through Mary, winding her middle up like a cork screw. I can’t satisfy his lust, but I can ease his thirst.
Without considering the consequences, Mary wrapped her legs around his waist and whispered in his ear. “Why not?”
Chapter 10
Why not?
Why couldn’t he drink from Mary?
His mate was naked, the most gorgeous creature on the planet with her glowing skin, supple flesh and wet, wonderful womanhood and his thoughts were supposed to make sense?
With her sweet thighs perched on his hips, the cushion of her pussy welcoming his hardness like a long-lost lover, he couldn’t readily remember the answer to her question. Not right away, at least. But it came screaming back when he felt the telltale tingle in his gums that let him know his fangs were about to come firing out. Ready to imbibe what had to be the sweetest blood on this earth.
He’d already decided he couldn’t tell Mary the truth. To drink from his mate would either equal servitude for her or certain death for him. What to tell her instead, though?