Page 35 of Blood Moon Bound

“What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

I tightened my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek again, then leaned around and planted one on his lips, unable to hold back my joy. Laughter bubbled up inside me, and I didn’t even try to hold it in. When I kissed him again, his hand shot up and gripped the back of my head, stopping me from pulling back.

Then he opened his mouth over mine and kissed me back. But it wasn’t like the little pecks I’d been giving him, it was one of his deep kisses that made me breathless and my body heat, with tongues and fangs and blood.

I climbed onto his lap and pressed closer. I couldn’t seem to get close enough to him. One of his hands stayed in my hair while the other dropped to my bottom, to tug me tighter to him, as if he felt the same way, that close wasn’t close enough.

We stayed like that, kissing, while I restlessly rocked against the hardness in his pants. When the car finally stopped, he shoved the door open and carried me inside, taking the stairs up to his room.

He set me on the bed, kneeling in front of me. His hands slid up under the skirt of my dress, then he gripped the sides of my underwear, tugging them down my legs and tossing them aside. “Hold your skirt up and spread your legs for me, Delphine. Show me how wet you got rubbing that pussy on me all the way here.”

I did, eagerly, and he cursed. “Am I wet enough?”

He licked his lips. “You’re perfect.”

He rubbed his thumb along the seam of my folds and pressed in, making me gasp. One moment he was looking at me, the next his mouth was between my legs, his fingers sliding deep inside me. I fell back on the bed with a groan. Constantine was relentless, bringing me to a screaming orgasm in moments, then again, and again. His fingers inside me, while he licked and sucked until I was trembling, sweaty and smeared with blood from his delicious bites.

“Once more,” he said.

I groaned and shoved at his head, then with the first lick, I yanked him back. I couldn’t get enough of him, of this feeling he gave me. I came again, crying out his name and collapsed back in a boneless heap.

I lay there unmoving, sensing Constantine stand over me before he lifted me, shifting me up the bed, then tucked the covers around me. I passed out moments later.

* * *

I woke to the sound of running water.

Constantine’s room was dark, and I was in bed alone. I didn’t know how long I’d been asleep, maybe an hour or so. But my body ached, in a good way. The things he’d done to me… I shivered. I loved the way he touched me, never imagined the kinds of pleasure he was able to give me.

A low groan came from the bathroom.

I bolted upright.

It came again, deeper this time.

I shoved back the covers, pulled on Constantine’s discarded shirt, and rushed to the bathroom door. I’d never heard him make that noise before. Was he injured? The thought sent a wave of fear through me, and before I could think better of it, I pushed the bathroom door open.

I froze at the threshold.

Constantine stood in the shower. I’d never seen him naked before. I’d seen his bare chest, had explored it, but I’d never seen him like…this.

Through the glass, I could see the way every muscle rippled under his smooth, tan skin. He had warrior tattoos on his back and chest, his arms and hands, a couple on his thighs as well. One of his hands was against the glass wall, veins bulging in his forearm, his biceps bunched tight. His back was to me, and his well-muscled buttocks were clenched, his long, strong legs braced apart.

His head was dipped, and he was standing in an odd way. His other arm was moving. He groaned again, and concern had my feet moving me forward. I rounded the shower. He still hadn’t seen me, his eyes closed, so focused on whatever it was he was doing. Then I was standing in front of him.

His hand was wrapped around the part of him I’d felt under me whenever we kissed, the part that grew hard. It was long and thick, and he had his fingers wrapped around it, sliding it up and back brutally.

His head shot up, his violet eyes snapping open and clashing with mine. His fangs were extended, his forehead broader, his cheekbones and chin sharp blades. I’d never seen him like this before. He looked so different. I stumbled back a step, my hand flying to my mouth.

He didn’t stop what he was doing, he straightened, something in his wild eyes shifting, his lids heavy, lips peeled back. My gaze slid over him again, all of him, and a pulse began a steady urgent beat between my thighs. Pleasure, that’s what I was seeing on his face. Raw and undiluted.

The kind of pleasure he gave me, he was giving himself now. He was touching himself, the way he’d encouraged me to touch myself, to make myself feel good. His gaze didn’t waver from me, and I took a step closer, helplessly drawn back to him. There was a look in his eyes, as if he were pleading with me for something I didn’t understand.

I closed the space between us, only a glass wall separating us now. His hand slid down the glass, palm wide, fingers long. He pressed his forehead to it with a snarl, and I dipped my gaze to what he was doing between his thighs. His hand moved faster, and that part of him seemed to grow thicker, longer.

I stepped closer still, and something came over me. I felt empty, the pulse deep inside growing more insistent, my thighs now slick from my own need. I let his shirt fall open, then lifted my hand, pressing it against his through the glass. My other hand went to my breast, and I squeezed my nipple the way Constantine had.