Bracing himself for the impact of her taste, Tucker dragged his tongue through the valley of her sex, so warm and soft from her bath. But nothing could have prepared him for the flavor of Mary. It had nothing to do with the body wash. It was all her. All cinnamon and sugar and arousal. The combination coated his tongue and steam shot from his nose like a bull about to attack. His cock was distended and aching between his thighs. He could do nothing but helplessly fuck the bedclothes while he raked his tongue up and back in her damp flesh, seeking out that pearl and polishing it eagerly, listening to her cry out above him, seeing her thighs warm to a glowing honey color in his periphery.
Damn, the clit wasn’t that hard to find after all.
Were fae females built differently or were males just lazy?
He was doing this to her.
For her.
His mate.
He could say it in his mind, when no one could hear.
Could let that powerful word boom in his mind and fill his hollow chest.
Mate, mate, mate.
I’ll lick my mate until she comes. I’ll lick her day and night.
Tucker closed his lips around her clit and savored the slope and texture, rubbing it adoringly with his tongue, sucking it lightly, then using his thumb to stroke it until her greedy fingers were twisting in his hair, her lower body rolling, voice turning hoarse.
She was close.
“Goddamn, honey. Look at you move. I could have you pinned in a hot second, though, couldn’t I? Squirming underneath me. Such a wet little thing.”
His hips slammed into the mattress, which in turn thumped the headboard into the wall. Her pussy started to tug against his tongue. A sign of what was happening inside of her? And he increased the pace of his strokes, his palms scraping up the softness of her stomach to test the ripeness of her breasts, to worry her stiff nipples between his knuckles—pinching harder when she seemed to love it and earning a whimper of his name.
Tucker closed his eyes, anticipating the flood against his lips, but it never came. Instead, Mary used her fingers in his hair to drag him up her body. There was no choice but to go. Not because she outmatched him in strength, because if she wanted something bad enough to drag him, he better get moving. Her face was dewy and beautiful, awash in awe, but he was only given a scant moment to marvel before she rolled Tucker onto his back.
Straddled him.
Melded their mouths together and kissed him like she’d die without his taste.
And her fingers went back to work on his zipper.
“Mary,” he growled, panic ripping up his spine. This girl, she wanted him. Badly. And it fucking astounded him, but he couldn’t allow this to happen. She didn’t understand the consequences, but he did. He did. “No, honey, no.”
“Please.” She kissed him from above, her belly flush with his much bigger one—and his extra girth didn’t appear to turn her off. The opposite, actually. She writhed against it, dragging her tits side to side on top of his thick chest. “I just want to feel you between my legs.”
Jesus H. Christ. One of his hands flew to the headboard and gripped, the other found her buttocks and kneaded. A study in contradictions. Right and wrong. “Rub yourself on me,” he rasped against her mouth. “Ride it however you want, but don’t put me in.”
If he had the ability to ejaculate, her frustrated mewl would have caused an eruption. As would her tits swinging back and forth above his chains, her eyelids drooped so low, he could barely see the blue of her irises. Tucker stared in wonder at the naked goddess raking her hips back and forth on his lap, strands of red hair stuck to her lustrous body, still damp and rosy from the bath. Her pussy pressed hotly to his shaft, hips rolling, dragging her slick flesh up and down the pulsing length. She was destroying him with every glide and yet, his hand gripped her backside and urged her to ride faster, harder, aiding his own destruction.
“You’re so thick for me,” she whimpered against his mouth.
His fangs were out before he could stop them, aching in his gums.
Begging for him to tap her vein. Claim her fully as his own.
Forever.
Oh God, I’m going to drink from her.
How was he supposed to stop himself? No man alive could withstand this sweet torture. No immortal, either. Pleasure swelled deep in his stomach, demanding release, and now he was in two kinds of agony. Sex. Thirst. He’d never been more of a vampire in his life.
Roll her over and fuck her.
Drink deeply.
She’s yours. Believe it or not, she’s yours.
Tucker moved so fast to get on top of her, he barely tempered his strength in time to keep from hurting her. He made a hoarse sound from above and demanded to know if she was injured, but Mary only looked up at him with wild excitement, her hair settling around her on the pillow, her radiance lighting up the room with more power than the moon.