A partial truth would have to do.
“I don’t drink from living beings,” he said raggedly. “Never have. I’m not starting now.”
She seemed to accept that, even if it disappointed her—and fucking hell, that disappointment burned him alive. Mary wanted it to happen and that made him twice as ravenous. “You don’t w-want to get the taste for it,” she stammered.
Ah, honey, you have no idea.
“That’s right.”
Her small hands twisted in his chains and they’d never felt like an extension of him before, but they did now. The gold digging into the back of his neck, combined with the eagerness on her face and the flex of lithe female thighs was the equivalent of a pumping fist around Tucker’s cock. And they fell into a hot, seeking kiss that accelerated like a fire doused with gasoline.
She purred every time their tongues brushed, the sparks of her radiance ramming into each other drunkenly, her hips lifting to entice him, fingers clawing. They rocked and rubbed against each other with no plan in sight, only to get as close as possible, feel everything—but that was dangerous. With no rules, no plan, Tucker was going to pull down his zipper and fuck this beautiful girl who called to him on an otherworldly level. Who pulled his pitiful soul behind her like it was attached by a leash.
Every time he rocked into her, his cock stiffening with more and more urgency, taking his mate became a real possibility. But he couldn’t do that. Could not. He didn’t have the kind of willpower he’d need to take Mary’s virginity, to make a home inside her body…and stop himself from tasting her blood.
Tasting. Right.
He ran the risk of draining her.
Tucker sank himself into that addicting purr of her mouth, stroking their tongues together hungrily, surprised to find Mary pulling on the hem of his shirt. Trying to get it off?
His self-consciousness led them to a tug-of-war, Mary doing her damnedest to rid him off the garment and Tucker trying to keep his belly covered.
“I want to feel you against me,” she complained breathily against his mouth.
Off went the shirt. Because if Mary wanted something, she got it. Despite him hating his body or wishing his physique was less David Harbour circa Stranger Things and more Ryan Reynolds circa anything. “I know what you’re thinking with all this man meat at your disposal. You’ve never wished so hard for eyesight. Let me tell you, I’m a feast to behold—”
Mary pressed a finger over his mouth, shutting him up. “Trust me to know what I want. Every inch of you. On every inch of me.”
Having Mary address his insecurities out loud stripped away yet another barrier between them and there he was, exposed. A man wanting nothing more than to worship a woman. The fact that this blind fairy saw him better than anyone with eyes made him quake all the more. With hunger, with homage and lust and gratitude.
“Mary,” he groaned, licking into her mouth, pulling away with a hiss when her fingernails speared into his chest hair and raked down to his belly, a whimper kindling in her throat as she struggled to unfasten his jeans. “No, no. Those have to stay on.”
Faint glimmers appeared in her eyes and he recognized the warning. It was the same thing that happened right before she screamed in the woods, only this time she wanted his pants off and was ready to shatter the sound barrier over it. Which was pretty fucking hot, but that was totally beside the point. He needed to distract Mary before she got too fixated on wrenching his zipper down.
Tucker kept their lips loosely interlocked. “You loved being fingered, didn’t you, honey?” He dropped his lower body and thrust into the gap of her thighs, dislodging her hand even while sending a bolt of need to his loins. “Yeah, I remember you bucking those hips and begging. Remember you so wet and tight around my finger.”
She exhaled shakily, but the glimmer in her eyes remained.
“Can I taste you down there?” He ground his bulge down on top of her sex, their moans colliding between them, her knees flying up to dig into his sides. “Please?”
Mary blinked, her breath stopping. “I didn’t know you could.”
“Oh I can.” To demonstrate, Tucker sank his tongue into her mouth, flickering it and listening to her heart rate skip, skip, then race. “I’m going to lick you, clit to asshole.”
With a shaky gasp, the approaching need to scream faded from her eyes fast and she gripped the sheets on either side of her hips, those white teeth burying in the rosy pillow of her bottom lip. “O-okay.”
Tucker grinned against her mouth, kissed her one final time and walked backwards on his knees. On his way down Mary’s body, he couldn’t help but stop and bathe her rapid-fire pulse with his tongue, desperate for the aroma of her blood, but well appeased knowing he’d be tasting her pussy soon. And fuck, she was excited for it, too, her stomach rising, falling, shuddering, hands ripping at the comforter. Tucker ran his open mouth over her belly button, clasping her hips in his hands, massaging, memorizing the grooves and curves, scooped his palms beneath her ass cheeks and lifting until she was flush to his face, inhaling her with a groan.