Page 37 of Blood Moon Bound

“You looked so handsome lying there and I…I couldn’t stop myself from…from touching you.” I ran my fingers along his length again. “Please, don’t tell me to stop. Let me make you feel good. Please.”

The muscle in the side of his jaw jumped. “Spit on it.”

“What?”

He cupped the back of my head, pushing me closer to the hard length of him. “Spit, Delphine.”

It seemed a strange thing to do, but I did as he said. His hand, the one that was wrapped around my wrist, slid up to cover mine, and he guided me, moving my hand over his hard, silky length, my spit now easing the way.

Color slashed his cheeks and he groaned. “That’s it. Don’t stop.”

“Does it feel good?” I asked, though I thought I knew the answer.

“Yes.” He spread his legs wider. “Grip me tighter, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

I ate up the sight of him, how he looked as I curled my fingers tighter around him. He made a hissing sound. He was made so differently to me. This part of him was big, so I used my other hand as well, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him, from the way he reacted. His muscled body flexed and tightened. His stomach looked as if it were carved from stone, and his chest strained.

Clear liquid pooled at the tip, and I quickly looked up at him. “Should it do that?”

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth.

My hand was no longer gliding easily, I needed more spit, but my mouth was dry from just the sight of him, so handsome and strong, and god, out of control. So I let my fangs slide down, and sunk them into my palm, using my blood instead.

It slicked his skin, painting his length red.

“Fuck,” Constantine groaned. “Faster.”

I did, watching the hard flesh between my hands as I stroked him even faster.

“I’m close,” he growled.

I wanted to ask to what, but the wild, taut expression on his face stole the words from my lips. I thought I knew what would happen, the same thing as in the shower. He was going to orgasm. That was something we could both do despite our physical differences.

Watching him this way had made me impossibly wet, and the empty feeling inside me grew more insistent. I thought about the way I was made, then studied the way Constantine was made. It was almost as if—as if we were made to fit together.

He groaned, his thighs flexing, his bottom lifting, and a snarl burst from his lips as that same creamy liquid I’d seen come from him in the shower spurted from the tip again.

It landed on his stomach, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it. He liked the taste of me, would I like the taste of him? Some of the rigidness left the appendage in my hands, but it didn’t soften completely. I reached out and slid my finger though the creamy liquid on his stomach. “What’s this called?”

“Come.”

“And this?” I squeezed his length again and he groaned.

“My cock.”

I slid my finger through his come again, then lifted it and licked it from the tip of my finger. It was unusual, but not unpleasant. “Hmm…I think I like it.”

“Jesus,” Constantine said, and his cock pulsed in my hand.

“What?” I looked up while I sucked the last of it from my finger. “Am I not supposed to do that?”

He dragged in a deep breath and released it. “You can do whatever you like to me, nothing is wrong, remember?”

I studied him again. “I was thinking, the way we’re made, it’s like…it’s like we’re made to fit together,” I said, telling him what I’d been thinking when I stroked him.

He said nothing for the longest time, then he hooked me under the arms and pulled me up his body, his hand sliding between my thighs, instantly making me moan. “Enough talking now, my wanton little bride.”