“Tee…”
“I’ll be right there. Hang in there.”
I float in a sea of heat and rushing sounds until a growl rises from the deep. Wait, not a growl—a motorcycle.
There’s a knock at the slider, then a hissing sound, and suddenly she’s over me.
Azure eyes and platinum hair as bright as heaven over leather dark as sin.
She crashes around me like a wave, and I can breathe again.
Her claws slice through everything binding me, and her skin against mine is pure relief. When her heat engulfs my length, my back arches in a wordless scream. She’s so tight, so hot.
Her mouth claims mine, tongue sliding down my throat, claws tangling in my hair. I reach up and find her leather gone, soft skin and the swell of her breasts open to my palms.
As her hips rock, my cock throbs overhard, locked in her grip. I tumble into a gasping climax that offers no relief. If anything, it only makes the aching worse. My hips press upwards in time with Christine’s grinding, milking out another peak, but something’s missing.
I cling to her, scratching, clawing, desperate.
Her low growls and moans rattle against my ear, sending hot shocks through me.
My ass clenches around nothing, aching at the emptiness.
That’s it, that’s where I need her: her tongue, her fingers, anything, everything…
I finally crest a climax that shakes me to my core.
Christine’s palm slides into my mouth, muffling the scream I can’t control.
I bite down hard—hard enough to draw blood, to taste that coppery tang, to crave it, to know that I should be tasting her blood as she tastes mine, fangs sinking into the base of my neck…
“Tee…” My hands slide around her shoulders, pulling her down toward my neck. She pushes away with the hand in my mouth, keeping me pinned. But then she wavers, dipping lower, hot breath on my skin.
“Mylo…”
My name drips from her lips, sliding down my spine, sending me shuddering.
I pull harder, until her fangs hover just above my neck, our cheeks brushing. A labored, shaking breath washes over me, like a wind from a forest fresh with rain.
Then the aftershocks slow, and the heat drains out of me in a chill rush.
I realize what I’m doing, and I drop Christine’s neck and push her away—but she’s immovable, still breathing heavily.
“Christine, stop it!” I push again, and this time she yields, rolling to the foot of the bed.
I scramble upright, pulling the sheet over myself.
Christine quickly puts her clothes back on, then runs a hand through sweat-damp hair, not looking at me. “I should go.” She stands.
I lunge after her, grabbing her arm. “Wait—” It doesn’t make sense, but I can only blame the hormones still raging through my body.
Christine whirls and looks down at me. I swear she’s even taller than usual, her eyes eerily large with slitted pupils sweeping wide. Her long, pointed ears swivel toward me, thentwitch to a sound outside, and her chest rises and falls with every heavy breath.
I’m frozen, prey in a predator’s gaze.
She grabs my wrist so hard it feels like my bones will shatter, but as she pulls my hand off her arm, that grip gentles to something tender.
I can even believe there’s regret in her voice as she says, “Mylo. I have to go.”
