Page 114 of Thirst
The aphrodisiac was a fever in my blood now. Cain brought his mouth back to my pussy. A few slow circles of his tongue and I shattered, chanting his name, my inner walls clenching in hard, rhythmic pulses.
I was still scattered in tiny pieces around the room when he rolled me onto my back and entered me with a low, hungry sound.
“Yes,” I whispered, tightening my arms and legs around him, taking him as deep as I could. If tomorrow night went south, this might be all I ever had of him. Our forever in a single night.
He buried his face in my throat, stubble scraping against my skin, grounding me in the ache of now. In this bedroom with draped gauze and soft shadows and the man I loved.
The bond stirred again, tried to claw its way out of my heart. I slammed a lid on it, keeping it caged, silent. The effort made me gasp, and Cain lifted his head.
He stilled. A beat stretched. I held my breath, waiting for him to demand what the hell was going on.
His eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. “Not now,” he said. “But when this is over, we’re going to have a long talk, you and me.”
Relief flooded me. I forced a smile, praying he wouldn’t pick up on it, wouldn’t catch the truth bleeding through. “As long as we can do it with your dick inside of me.”
He cursed. “You are such a bad girl.”
“You like me bad.”
“Fuck, yeah, I do.” His fingers slid into my hair, tugging my head back, baring my throat to him. His mouth closed over my skin, hot and claiming. Reminding me that he was in control. That if he wasn’t pushing me for more, it was his choice, not mine.
He propped himself on his forearms and started moving again—a measured rhythm that was somehow both perfect, and not enough. Beneath my fingers, his back flexed with each thrust and retreat. Stroking deep until I felt myself rising again.
A low sound escaped me.
His mouth brushed mine. “Good?”
“So good,” I breathed, tightening my inner muscles around him.
“Firefly,” he returned hoarsely.
That name—mine alone—made my heart constrict.
“Cain,” I whispered back.
He broke first, driving into me with short, uneven bursts, his restraint thrown aside.
“Take it,” he gritted. “Take me.”
A fierce, possessive instinct flared. I tightened my grip on him.
I’d done that, made him lose his control. The realization cracked me wide open. Waves of pleasure slammed into me. My sex clamped greedily around him.
“That’s it,” he said hoarsely. “Come for me. Now, love.”
He came down fully on top of me, hips still working, face buried in my neck, and groaned out his release just as I soared, star-lit and ecstatic, over the edge.
After, he rolled onto his back, drawing me into the curve of his body, my cheek pressed to his chest. I curled up, my bent leg over his thigh, breathing in his spicy scent. His heart slowed to a vampire’s pace, a handful of beats per minute.
He let out a rough exhale. “I missed this,” he murmured against my hair. “Missed you.”
“Yeah?” I snuggled closer.
“That night in Paris? I should’ve never let you leave. I went back the next night, but it was too late. You were already gone.”
A corner of my mouth tipped up in a small, regretful smile. “You couldn’t have stopped me,” I said into the warm hollow of his throat.
“No?” He caught one of my curls, winding it around his knuckle. “There’s something I’ve been wondering. That night on the island—you wanted me to know you were there, didn’t you?
