Bled Dry (8 page)

She groaned, echoing his own.

“Corbin, I... ”

“Shh, I know.”

“You’re making me dizzy, it’s too much,” she said, her voice breathless.

“That is good.” Corbin was wondering if it was much too soon to make love to her fully. Surely not. After all, she was carrying his child, would soon be his wife. It was logical that they would be intimate again. Though he imagined logic was not what was driving him.

“We shouldn’t... ” she murmured, but there was a clear lack of conviction in her voice.

Corbin moved his lips over her long, pale neck, loving the scent of her dewy flesh, the hint of rich, strong blood pumping through her juicy veins. “We shouldn’t have the first time, but we did and I do not regret it. This time there is nothing to stop us.”

“I’m not normally easy.”

“Of course not,” he reassured her, hearing the doubt in her jumbled thoughts, but feeling the compliance in her body. He brushed his hand over her breast and reveled in the shiver she gave. “It is just you and I have something different, yes? We desire each other very much, have from the first day we met.”

“That’s true... you looked so sexy in your suit. But it was terrible of you to leave me on the roof like that.”

He had left her on the roof because her cheerful acceptance of his vampirism had appalled him, but it
had
been uncalled-for behavior. Corbin kissed the corners of her mouth, slid his tongue along her bottom lip. “That was the second time we met, not the first. But it was bad of me, and I most humbly apologize. Perhaps you’ll allow me to make restitution for my earlier rudeness, as well as for my rushed lovemaking.”

Brittany gave a hearty sigh that veered into a moan when he rubbed his thumb across her nipple. “I’m definitely feeling like I could use a little restitution.”

Corbin loved the way she reacted to him, the way her body leaned toward his, the way her fingers gripped the sleeves of his shirt. And he was well aware this might be his only opportunity for intimacy with her in several months. It suddenly felt akin to taking a last swallow before a long drought. “Then this is good timing, Brittany.”

Eyes half-closed, she murmured, “I’m really, really tired lately. You know, since you got me pregnant. So I’m just warning you, you’re going to have to do all the work.”

Corbin felt his body—actually, a very specific body part—greet that information enthusiastically. “Of course. I am making this up to you, remember? All you need do is tell me what you like and what you don’t like and leave the rest to me.”

“Okay, then.” She pushed his hand harder against her breast. “I like this.”

Corbin never had to doubt Brittany’s feelings. She never hesitated to share them, and he liked that. No guesswork.

The shirt she was wearing, a tight pink T-shirt, needed to disappear. Corbin lifted the bottom of it and dragged it off over her head. Brittany’s bra matched her T-shirt, a vibrant, energetic pink satin. Her breasts were pale luscious mounds, pushed up and together by the magic of the modern bra. It almost matched the beauty of what a good corset could do, and had the added benefit of allowing her total movement, and him free access to her waist and navel.

Brushing his lips over her warm flesh, Corbin breathed deeply, enjoying the warmth of her dewy skin, the rush of her heated blood. She felt different to him, her waist tapered, ribs more prominent, skin pale, and it was clear she’d lost a few pounds. But in contrast, her breasts had swelled, were rounder and more robust than they had been before, and her scent was different.

The bra was cutting into her flesh, and Corbin traced his tongue between the fabric and her skin, feeling the groove it had left behind. “This has gotten too small, yes?”

“I know, but I’ve been too tired to go shopping.” Brittany’s hands rested on his shoulders.

Corbin raised his head and kissed her, strange feelings of compassion, guilt, desire rushing through him, running alongside something confusing and deep and strange. “Poor Brittany. This is all my fault. You should yell at me. Punish me for taking advantage of you.”

She let him nuzzle her neck, her fingers digging into his flesh in a way that enflamed his desire. A slight smile crossed her face. “No one takes advantage of me. I wanted what you gave me, Corbin. And I want it again.”

No, Brittany wasn’t shy about revealing her feelings. Corbin swallowed, his mouth dry, his body taut with anticipation. “I am delighted to give it to you.”

With that, he bent over, scooped her up into his arms, and started down the hall toward her bedroom.

She kissed him on the neck, the chin, the mouth while he strode faster and faster, not really seeing where he was going. At one point, he bumped against the wall, misjudging the door-frame. Instead of apologizing, he simply used it as a prop, a way to hold some of Brittany’s weight, so he could kiss her back, fierce, hard, his fangs dropping down in his pleasure.

The swell of her breast was too close to ignore and Corbin licked her skin, suckled and kissed, before allowing his teeth to sink into her and then quickly withdraw. Just a little taste of her blood, just a tease for both of them.

Brittany groaned. “Why does that feel so good?” She swallowed hard, pushing his head back toward her breasts. “It’s like... like almost as good as when your... goes into me. It’s that same sort of... I don’t know.”

Corbin held her tighter, his erection throbbing, his control slipping, his mind going blank with desire. “It feels good because it is a joining, just the way it is when I thrust my manhood into you and you accept it with your body... this is the same.”

“Manhood?” Brittany whispered. “Can you thrust something less icky-sounding into me?”

Corbin was tempted to laugh, but he didn’t. He wanted Brittany to understand, to acknowledge and enjoy what was between them. “When I slide my teeth into you, we’re feeling each other’s pleasure, feeling the connection between us.”

Moving his lips over her nipple, which had popped up out of her bra, he said, “You feel it, too, don’t you? This bond between us.”

“Yes. I definitely feel it.” She stilled his movements, his casual brushing, by gripping his head. “Suck it, Corbin, please, you’re torturing me.”

This was why he could not resist her. There was no man with an ounce of testosterone who would refuse such a delicious and demanding invitation from a woman he desired. And he obviously had a reasonable amount of testosterone since he had in fact gotten her with child, which made him feel no small amount of pride and possessiveness.

So he tore off her bra with vampire speed, and covered her nipple with his mouth, drawing the taut bud fully into him and sucking hard.

She made a sound, sort of a growl low in her throat, that compelled him to set her down in the hallway so he could push his erection against her jeans as he moved from one breast to the other. The change in her body was even more apparent without the bra restraining her. Her chest was full and lush already, and clearly sensitive. Every move he made, every touch, every lick and suckle, had Brittany squirming, panting, gasping, and protesting when he so much as paused for a second.

Corbin undid the button on her jeans, slid his hand inside, and cupped her mound with his hand. She was very warm, and thrust forward to meet his touch. He pulled back, wanting all that denim gone, yet wanting to step back and slow down, so he could savor the experience, the taste of her.

“No,” she murmured. “Don’t stop.”

“I am taking you to the bed,” he murmured in her ear, nipping at the lobe.

“Oh, okay, then. Good plan.”

Just to impress her, Corbin picked her up and moved to the bed with his undead speed, laying her down and discarding her jeans before she could so much as blink.

She licked her lips. “Cutting to the chase?”

“Yes.” Corbin stood at the bottom of the bed and drank in the sight of her. She was amazing, delightful. Her full pouty lips were swollen from his kisses and her cheeks were flushed with color, two bright pink spots on either side. Her hair was spread out around her thick and lustrous, dark and exotic. Her legs were long and slim, going on and on, and he reached out and peeled her pink panties down a mere inch.

“Just don’t cut too much to the chase, or I might miss all the action. I’m still mortal, remember? I don’t want to blink and have the good stuff over with.”

“That is not something you need to worry about. I plan to make love to you all night.”

“Score.”

Corbin paused, lips hovering right over her panties, unsure of her English. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, it means that’s a good thing that you’re going to make love to me all night.”

“It does?” He pondered that. He supposed it was a reference to sports and the winning of a point. “I am not well versed in modern slang.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll stop using it.” She moved her legs restlessly. “Just stop talking and cut to the chase.”

Corbin grinned, rubbing his lips over her panties, knowing it would torture her. “I thought you didn’t want me to cut to the chase. And that is slang as well.”

The groan of frustration she gave pleased him. “Corbin... ”

“Yes?” He peeled pink satin down in front, holding it with his thumbs, and took his time studying her sex, taking in the scent of her desire, rubbing his mouth over her softness. “What is it, my dear?”

“Nothing.” Her voice was breathy, her hips thrusting up toward him.

He pulled back. “Are you certain? I can stop if there is something you are uncomfortable with.”

Eyes closed, her head went rapidly back and forth. “Don’t stop.”

“No?” Corbin moved his tongue over her sensitive flesh, closing his eyes to savor the taste of her, the triumph of her shudder, the pleasure of feeling her thighs relax, settle open farther for him.

“No,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

Disposing of her panties, he traced her thigh, first one, then the other, with his tongue, enjoying the way she spread her legs, the way she arched to him, the way her fingers moved into his hair and gripped hard. When she was shifting back and forth, making little sounds of impatient distress, Corbin finally brought his mouth back to her, stroking his tongue over her clitoris.

Brittany groaned, her voice rising as he moved over her, tasting her thoroughly, stroking up and down with long leisurely licks, then pulling back to tease her. When she yanked at his hair, trying to drag him back, he gave her what she wanted, moving in with increased speed and intensity, nipping and sucking at her, plunging his tongue inside her warmth, pulling it back out. He knew she was going to orgasm, felt the tightening of her legs, her inner muscles, and he maintained his rhythm, his own desire hot and thick and hard as she exploded under him. Her cries were loud and unrestrained, her fingers fisting her bedsheet, hair spread out in all directions and tumbling over her cheeks and lips.

Her passion was beautiful. He loved that she wasn’t insecure or shy about her body, about her desires.

“Oh,” she said, eyes popping open, thighs settling back onto the bed. “That was hot. Take your pants off and give me another one.”

No, Brittany wasn’t shy. Corbin went up on his knees and unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it toward a wicker chair resting in the corner of her bedroom. “It would be my pleasure.”

She pried at his belt buckle, obviously intending to speed up the process. “Take off your watch. It scrapes my skin,” she said as she undid the belt.

Corbin paused, knowing he needed to tell the truth, but feeling a sense of shame. “It cannot come off,” he told her bluntly, turning his wrist a little to show her the titanium-faced wristwatch. Most of the time he was not aware of it, but suddenly he felt its weight most acutely. “It is the way the Nation keeps track of my whereabouts while I am still under the terms of my punishment. To take it off would be essentially a parole violation.”