Darker After Midnight (Midnight Breed 10)

Now he could hardly think straight as the pleasure of Tavia's body and the daggers of his blood thirst did battle for his soul.

He risked another look at her and found her watching him intently. Her climax had ebbed, but he could feel her balanced on the edge of another. He knew he should end this - before the punishing lash of his rising blood thirst proved too much for him to bear. But his libido had other ideas. His hips rocked forward, a powerful thrust that seated him to the hilt.

He pressed deeper, staring down at her, his voice little better than ash in the back of his throat. "More?"

Tavia's reply was a rapt hiss through bared teeth and gleaming fangs. "Yes."

Her permission was its own kind of torment. Because Chase didn't think he had control enough to stop now. Not even if she begged him to.

TAVIA CLUNG to his thick shoulders as a tide of bright ecstasy crashed over her once again. Wave after wave, flooding all her senses, whisking her out of her own skin with the intensity of all she was feeling. She couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe, except to close her eyes and let go of the pleasured sigh that seemed to originate from the very core of her being.

She felt electrified, every nerve ending exploded and ragged, tingling with sensation.

There was a dull pain between her legs, but she was only dimly aware of it, too swept up in the overwhelming transformation of her entire person. Her whole existence was tangled up in a vortex of pain and pleasure, clarity and confusion.

She opened her eyes and saw the source of it all.

Chase. Unearthly, demonically handsome, he hovered above her as her body absorbed the battering impact of his thrusts. She couldn't tear her gaze away from him, the slender thread of her conscious mind mesmerized by the unholy beauty of his fiery eyes and the skin markings that fanned over his pecs and onto his thick arms braced on either side of her.

Skin markings that were surging with dark colors, just like her own.

It all seemed like some kind of dark dream, yet she was living it. Feeling it, in every awakened cell and fiber of her body. She rocked beneath him, helpless to his urgent rhythm. The tension spread from his wild features, into the hard bulk of his shoulders and down along the rigid line of his big body.

With a low growl, his tempo intensified, and the daggerlike lengths of his fangs stretched even longer behind his parted lips. His cat's-eye pupils thinned to barest slits as his gaze drifted lower, settling on her throat. Heat radiated from that feral gaze, like a hot blade pressed against her neck. His mouth grew taut, full lips peeling back as he drove into her with relentless, mounting aggression.

She knew she should be afraid. She knew that none of this should be happening - not in any kind of reality she could comprehend.

But she knew no fear now. Only an instinctual anticipation as her body cushioned his, her head tilting to the side as though drawn on unseen strings, giving him full access to her neck. "Yes," she heard herself whisper as his strokes became more frenzied. His eyes were fixed on her throat, unblinking, ravenous. Tavia swallowed, feeling an overwhelming need for his fangs to penetrate the tender flesh. She licked her parched lips, hungry for him again too. When she reached up and took hold of the back of his head, he went rigid, hissing as if she'd burned him. He grunted an angered sound, his face contorting in a pained grimace as his pace quickened even more. His gaze grew hotter, searing her exposed throat with a heat she felt running all through her now.>MORE.

It was all she knew in that moment, the only thing that mattered.

More.

More of the quenching fluid that cooled the desert that was her throat. More of the power that was surging into every particle of her being, soothing the ache of her racked bones and muscles, calming the fury - the violent tempest of animal rage - that had first awakened her from her sleep overnight and left her shivering and confused, huddled on the floor of the room.

She wanted more of the pleasure that had started with her first taste of the spicy dark elixir that flowed over her tongue like liquid velvet from some exotic other world. It was blood. She knew this in the part of her mind that was still tethered to reality.

It was his blood. Sterling Chase. The man she should fear and probably despise. The man who was no man at all, but something dangerous and wild.

She wanted more of him.

Her pulse spiked at the thought, drumming harder in her veins. She felt her blood pumping, hot and alive, into every organ and muscle. Could practically hear the suck of her body's cells, drinking in his dark strength, claiming it as their own.

And oh, he felt good.

Everywhere they made contact, her skin buzzed with arousal. She couldn't deny the pleasure, any more than she could deny the need to slake the thirst that felt as though it had been building inside her all her life.

She'd felt so ill before - dying, she was sure. But now she felt no sickness. No quivering weakness, or the anxiety that so often had her scrambling for medicinal relief. She felt alive now. Infinitely, powerfully alive.

She drank urgently at his open vein, unable to be gentle. Nor could she curb the other craving that was lashing itself around her, a smoldering need that licked across her skin and into her heightened senses.

Everything seemed more vivid now. Her head filled with the dark scent of his skin and the blood that pulsed so forcefully against her tongue. She breathed him in, savored the wild taste of him. Indulged in the hard power of his body beneath her, the muscled planes of his bare chest warm and satin smooth under her fingertips.

His heart was hammering as hard as hers, a beat she could feel, somehow, throbbing in her own veins too. She could feel the power of his desire, a need that made the molten pool in the core of her burn even more intensely.

Tavia moaned, losing her hold on what little control she had left.

"More," she murmured against his skin. Her hips were moving of their own accord, wanton despite her inexperience. All she knew was the yearning, the ache that swelled to consume her as she moved her virgin body against the large, unyielding bulge that nestled between her spread thighs. Pleasure burst inside her with the delicious friction, but it wasn't enough to sate her. Not nearly enough.