The Vampire Dimitri (Regency Draculia 2)

“Here?” He forced an edge of disdain into his tone. “Whatever for?”

She shook her head as if to clear it, her eyes steady on him, as if to somehow read the lie there, even in the dark.

And then she touched him. Her fingers, settling gently on his bare wrist next to the edge of the mattress, released him from his paralysis. He was done.

His arm lurched, moving before his conscious thought, and his hand whipped out, dragging her onto the bed. His other hand moved around to slide fingers into her hair, guiding her lush warmth down onto him. Yes.

Maia didn’t pull back, didn’t resist. If she had, he’d have released her immediately. But, foolishly, she came willingly, sliding onto the bed, her knees pinning her blousy night rail to the mattress before she collapsed next to him, tangled in the soft cotton.

Dimitri was aware of a rushing sound in his ears, of a warning voice in his head, but it was too late. He had her. In his arms, wrapping Maia in the warmth of his body and the tangled bedclothes, their flesh separated only by a flimsy gown. Wild need surged through him, and he ignored all of the reasons he should send her away.

Taking care not to cut her with his fangs, he covered her mouth with his, drinking desperately from the corners of her lips, sliding over and across them, nibbling and sucking as she shifted against him, her mouth hot and teasing in a slick, sensual kiss, her br**sts rounding against his chest.

He gathered her close, imprinting her body against his, capturing her against him with one bent leg and his hands, sliding along her slender back, pulling her onto him, into him, close. She burned him.

His breathing was out of control, his body tight and throbbing, his fangs jutting so far that his mouth hurt.

“Maia,” he managed to say, focusing on the sudden sharp pain from his Mark. Ah, that was it. If the pain became worse, then Luce was unhappy with his actions. And right now, now that he’d stopped, now that he was set to do the right thing, to send her away, the pain was white-hot, blasting and searing down his side and around by his left hip. An incentive for him to change his mind. “This is your last chance. Leave now.”

Perhaps her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, for she focused on him, met his gaze. “I’m not going to leave,” she said. “Unless you truly do not want me.”

Even then, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t send her away.

“Very well,” he said in a harsh voice, horribly aware that his Mark eased. That Lucifer approved. “I will give you nothing, Maia. Do you understand? This is nothing more than me, taking what you offer.”

“Is that not how it’s always been?” she replied.

“You must wed Bradington,” he said, grasping the front of her gown as he twisted around, shoving her back onto the bed, curving over her, pinning her down with the weight of his hips. “I can give you nothing else,” he said again. “Nothing. And wedding him will save you.”

“I make no promises,” she replied.

“Nor do I.” And, his patience gone, his goodwill trampled, he shoved his conscience away. She’d come to him. He’d warned her off. He grabbed her gown with his other hand and yanked, renting it down the middle with a loud, violent tear that made her slender body jerk.

With a little more care, but no lesser intent, he whipped the cloth away and bent to her again, covering her mouth with his. She reached up and slid her arms around him, pulling him down so that they were skin to skin, her soft, pale and silky curves rising up into his hard, hirsute body. So warm. Her long hair caught beneath them, and he tugged it away, threading his fingers in and around it.

He buried his face in her neck, tasting the hot, sensitive skin there, his lips tracing the curve of her shoulder as he struggled to keep from sinking his fangs deep. The need pounded in him, in his swollen gums and thrusting teeth, through his veins, in his cock, tight and raging against her thigh. Maia shuddered and sighed as he sucked hard on the delicate rise of her shoulder, still fighting to keep from sinking deep and drinking of her.

Dimitri moved to her breast, covering the taut rise of nipple with his mouth, sliding his tongue around the sensitive little tip. She dug her fingers into his hair, arching closer as he licked and gently sucked, his fangs gently surrounding the areola, brushing her skin with their tips. One little nick… She exuded heat, and the musky, sweet scent of desire filled his nostrils as she writhed and moaned against him.

He slid his hand down between her legs, finding her slick and swollen. She shifted against him, lifting up into his palm, and he pressed down into her, trembling a little at her passionate response. Sliding a finger inside, into the tight heat, Dimitri shifted as he teased and slid in and out and around, releasing her lush musky scent, turning his vision red and cloudy. Desire pounded in him and his gums throbbed, his c**k shifting insistently next to her. Maia gasped something, reaching out blindly, her hands pulling at his shoulder, drawing him close.

He could wait no longer. Dimitri moved quickly and decisively, rising back up to rear over her slender white body and sliding his leg between hers. She curled her fingers around his shoulders, pulling him down as he fitted himself inside her. Maia’s gasp was swallowed by the roaring in his ears as he slid in, deep, filling. His muscles shuddered with the effort of control…she was sleek and tight and he found his face buried once again in her throat as he moved rhythmically: away, then closer, away…closer. Hot, damp, smelling of her, that sensitive, erotic spot…

It was too much to resist. His fangs brushed her skin and as he slammed deep between her legs, he bit into the warm, silky skin at the juncture of neck and shoulder, the points of his teeth sliding in with ease. She jolted and gave a soft cry, shuddering, but he was too intent, and he held her steady as the warm flow of lifeblood rushed into his mouth. The pleasure was heavy, the taste of rich, lush earth and life laced with Maia’s own particular essence, filling his senses, over his tongue, down into his body.

There was no holding back, no waiting. His world turned into a frenzy of pleasure, rising uncontrollably. His veins sang, swelled, his body slid against hers. Dimitri was vaguely aware of her nails scoring into his back, her head twisting and rolling on the pillow as he drank, as he thrust in and out, driving closer and longer until he could no longer think.

The explosion, when it came, was white-hot and red, draining him of awareness. He barely remembered to pull free of that hot, sleek place just before his seed spilled, twisting his hips away as he released her neck. Heavy, warm blood still in his mouth, he gave a soft groan of release as he pulsed and throbbed, damp and warm. He swallowed the last bit and closed his eyes.