Captivated (Deep in Your Veins 6)

The thought of her fracturing like that, of her losing part of herself and being hunted by the legion, made my stomach curdle. “I’ve heard of other vampires breaking. I’ve never seen it happen before.”

“None were mated, and Antonio thinks that played a big part in why they broke. They were alone for so long—they had no one to lean on, confide in, or ground them. He said some stay detached like that, as if it will save them from one day snapping. But Antonio believes we’re better off not alone; that we should grab some happiness for ourselves. I happen to agree with him. But like I said, I’m in no rush to Bind myself to someone.”

She would do it, though. And Sam was right. I’d have to watch it happen. I’d have to pretend I was happy for Paige and whoever she chose as her mate. Would have to pretend I didn’t want to beat the piss out of him.

Feeling my blood begin to boil, I shook off the matter. I didn’t want to think about the future, I wanted to concentrate on the now. Because at this moment in time, she was here with me. She was sitting in my kitchen, wearing nothing but my tee, and she was wholly mine for another thirty-six hours. I’d be a fool not to make the most of it.

(Paige)

“Come here.”

The low, deeply spoken order was so unexpected, I almost jumped. “Will I get another orgasm if I do?” I asked.

His eyes flared. “Yes.”

“Then I’m game.” I slipped off my seat and set my hands on his bare shoulders while I straddled him. The gorgeous bastard was wearing only his jeans. We’d shed most of our clothes earlier when we first arrived. He’d no sooner closed the front door behind us than he’d slammed me against it and fucked me right there. He’d also eaten me out before we got to the whole ‘fucking’ part.

He smoothed his hands up my thighs. “I like seeing you in my tee. But I like you naked more.” He tugged on the material. “Take it off. Hmm, that’s better. Now undo my jeans for me.”

Oh, I was more than happy to do that. His cock sprang out, hard and thick and ready. I curled my hand around it, and he hissed out a breath.

“Take me in you. That’s my girl.”

I bore down on him, taking him inside me inch by slow inch. He didn’t help me. Just watched, the red tinge to his irises glowing slightly. Once I was finally impaled on him, I teasingly squeezed my inner muscles around him.

His jaw went tight, and a groan slid between his clenched teeth. “Lean back and put your elbows on the table. Very good. Now stay still for me.”

To my surprise, he didn’t cup and shape and squeeze. No, he skimmed his hands over me—stroking, indulging, exploring. His touch was both soft and blatantly proprietary. I shouldn’t have liked it, but I did.

“Perfect,” he said.

“Do I get to touch now?”

“No.”

Motherfucker.

“But you will get to come in about, hmm, five minutes.”

Oh, well then he wasn’t a motherfucker.

“It might take a while before you do actually come, though.”

“Why is that?”

His eyes danced with humour. “Because I’ve noticed that wickedly slow fucks tend to irritate you.”

“Then why, pray tell, will there be another wickedly slow fuck?”

“Maybe I like to irritate you.”

“You know, I was thinking the same thing.” In which case, he was a motherfucker.

Soon enough, he had me spread over the table while he stood between my legs, fucking me with excruciatingly lazy thrusts. But I didn’t get snippy or snarly. I didn’t complain or whine or beg. Nor did I play him at his own game, no, I played my own. And my game? Well, it basically consisted of me stomping all over his patience.

I feigned disinterest in what we were doing—idly tapping my fingers on the table, whistling a merry tune, commenting on the décor, saying the alphabet backwards, singing the Ghostbusters theme song.

At first, he was amused. But it wasn’t long before annoyance crept into his expression. That was when he started trying to distract me by pinching my nipples, playing with my clit, and moulding my breasts … which did make it a lot harder for me to fake indifference.

The singing, of course, became impossible when he shoved a finger in my mouth and ordered me to suck it. So I bit it. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough for it to hurt. What I hadn’t expected was for his cock to flex inside me. The dude might not be willing to admit it, but he wanted to mix sex and feeding—he just wouldn’t.

So, me being me, I withdrew his finger and—moving so fast he had no chance to react—I reared up and lightly clamped my teeth around the life-giving vein in his throat but without biting down to feed from him. And Jesus Christ the man lost it. He fucked me like I was the first woman he’d seen in decades.