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was….

    “Apparently, I’m your Bride.”

    “I was wondering if I could get you to turn for me,” Myst purred to him, as he struggled to hide his shock.

    She’d found him to be a cool, disciplined man, but she’d heard a new heartbeat was deafening for these unblooded vampires, the sudden rush of sexual desire
    overwhelming, their breaths unpracticed and rough at first. With soft touches, she eased him against the wal. His eyes were half-lidded as she rubbed up and down his chest.
    “How does the air in your lungs feel?”

    He inhaled deeply. “Cold. Pressure, but it feels good.” He looked at her with such gratitude for blooding him.

    They always did.

    “How does your blood feel, heating and moving?”

    “Stronger. It’s…searing.”

    She palmed his erection through his pants, and his entire body jerked as he threw back his head to yel out. She was almost as shocked. She’d known Wroth was very wel endowed, but hard, he was overly so.

    Like Demon or Lykae endowed.

    He held her hand in place over his shaft, making her fingers curve around it as he slowly thrust against her palm. Her body softened when she imagined the onslaught of need clawing at him. In a sensual whisper, she asked, “And how does this feel when it hardens and distends?”

    “Good,” he grated with a shudder. “So damn good.”

    “It’s been three centuries? Wel, you are due I suppose.” She unzipped his pants just enough to wiggle her thumb inside and rub the broad tip of his penis, making it grow slick. His eyes roled back in his head. “I can only imagine how heavy and tight this feels, throbbing with pressure, close to exploding.”

    “Why are you doing this to me?”

    Because I can.

    Soon he would have no more thought than an animal. His eyes were growing black. She stroked his length through his pants, relieved she would never have to take his uncomfortable size within her body. Five, four, three, two…

    Wroth attacked, groaning, and he was surprisingly strong as he pinned her arms over her head. He kissed her, deeply, possessively, seeming to brand her with his kiss. He left her panting when he bent down to lick her nipples, sucking at them through her blouse. His other hand cupped her sex.

    With a growl, he yanked himself from her, and took her elbow. “Come with me.”

    Damn it, dawn neared. Where were they? She had to keep him here. “No, Wroth,” she said.

    “Won’t claim my Bride in a dungeon.”

    “But I can’t wait,” she cried. “Tel the guard to leave.”

    “No—”

    “Wroth,” she gripped his shaft hard while whispering in his ear, “my body weeps for this thrusting inside me.”

    He belowed out that order, then tore open her blouse and bra, suckling and tonguing her nipples roughly. Involuntarily her back arched, pressing her breasts into his gorgeous lips. When had she begun undulating her hips for him?

    “I’ve waited for you,” he bit out. “So long I’ve waited.”

    One hand pinned her wrists above her, the other shot up her skirt and ripped her panties completely from her. His fingers roved, hot and slow over her, teasing. He knew exactly how to set her on fire, using the moisture from her own body to slide his thumb around her clitoris in slow, slick, mind-numbing circles.

    “So wet,” he rasped against her breast. “As soon as I saw you, I wanted it to be you.” His lips took her hardened nipple, sucking on it til it throbbed. He turned to the other one for the same attention.

    Myst made a decision then. There was simply no way she was going to miss this.

    She moaned in truth, unable to control herself as lightning fired outside in conjunction with the emotion inside her. When he plunged one finger into her, withdrew, then thrust two deep within her, she wanted to come around them. He slid them into her unhurriedly but with enough force that she was rocked to her toes each time.

    She arched her back more, wanting to offer up her breasts. She spread her legs,