Page 147 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

I take her the way I want to take her with my cock: harder than I should, deeper than is kind, relishing the helpless buck of her hips. When she is right on the edge, I slow my pace and draw my fingers out.

“Still want me to stop?” I ask, leaning back to meet her gaze as I brush her soaked folds with my fingertips.

Her glazed eyes refocus, fixing me with a glare, but the lift of her hips betrays her attempt at composure.

“I’ll take that as a no?”

She opens her mouth, lips drawing back in a snarl, but whatever she means to say breaks apart as I drive my fingers back inside her. A fractured sound escapes her, high and needy, and she immediately clamps her mouth shut.

I want to hear it again. It is mesmerising. I would tell her so, but I cannot afford such earnestness.

So I disguise the truth as cruelty. “You moan like a slut,” I whisper. I hate myself even as I say it, though it is a little true, and she trembles when she hears it, fury and heat colliding.

“I do not moan,” she spits.

“No?”

“No—ohh.” She grits her teeth as I press the flat of my palm against her heat, rubbing her from the outside while my fingers remain buried within her. It must feel good, because she shuts her eyes for one long second before answering.

“I’m going to kill you,” she promises.

“You already tried.” My gaze trails over the line of her throat, the smooth olive skin beneath her jaw.

My fangs throb. So do my balls, my cock already hardening again.

“I nearly succeeded,” she growls.

I laugh. “Oh, pet…” I lean closer, unable to resist, and brush my mouth against the side of her throat as I work my fingers into her again and again. “If you had put half as much effort into killing me as you did sucking my cock, we would not be having this conversation.”

I remove my fingers and wipe their dampness across her cheek. She goes rigid, a storm of fury gathering behind her eyes. For one alarming moment, I think she might headbutt me. Instead, she moans softly as another tremor tears through her. There it is. She is on the very edge.

“Not just yet,” I say. “But very soon.”

I make her wait for it. I remain half-kneeling before her, kissing her neck slowly, as the firelight burns my back. I’m dying to sink my fangs into her flesh, to taste her blood as it coats my tongue. With a shuddering breath, I resist, focusing on her face as I drive my fingers inside her—once, twice, three times—making her cry out. Then I retreat, using just my palm now to torment her in languid, circular strokes.

“I. Hate. You.”

A dark chuckle escapes me. “As you should.” I could lift her from the chair. Carry her three paces. Lay her across my bed and fuck her until the room fills with the sound of her fury. But if I take her to bed, I might never let her go. She would have a real reason to hate me then. I pull back enough to see her face.

Her eyes are unfocused again, her breathing ragged.

“I have a secret to tell you,” I say, teasing one fang with the tip of my tongue.

“I doubt it will be worth hearing,” she mutters, but her voice is soft and breathy as she watches my tongue glide over my teeth.

“You came here believing you would kill me—”

“I still might,” she interjects.

“And I think it is only fair that you should have the opportunity.”

Reaching behind the armchair, I retrieve the concealed dagger.

Kira stiffens when she sees the curved, vicious blade.

The hilt goes into her palm. I curl her fingers around it, my hand closing over hers like a shackle.

“Wh-what are you doing?”