Page 105 of Claimed

I should feel exposed but I feel worshipped and hunted and furious that I want both. Hell, I want everything.

His fingers slide through my cunt, and my hips jerk. ‘Already so wet,’ he says, voice dark.

‘Trauma response.’

His eyes burn. ‘Do not joke about that, Eira.’

The gravity in his voice robs the next volley of snark from me. Again we stare at each other, eyes screaming what minds and mouths fear to utter. Then he drops down and buries his face in my pussy. My clit, hole and slit become his buffet.

And the Vampire King of New York feasts on me until a million sparks dance behind my closed lids. I relearn the use of my vocal cords as I gasp and cry out and then scream when he sucks on my swollen clit, then grazes it with one fang. And when he sucks my blood into his mouth, groaning deep and long and broken like he’s in the best and worst agony, my fingers dive into his hair.

And when he commands, thick and hoarse in my mind, Come for me, Eira, I throw my head back and scream my release.

His lips are wet with blood and release when he surges above me, eyes on fire when he plants one hand on my crown and the other on my hips.

Then, holding me in place, Valentin thrusts into me.

Hard and savage and tear-jerkingly beautiful.

I cry out again, head snapping back, body taking him with a desperate, aching relief that makes my eyes sting. He stills once he is buried deep, grip still locked on me, his jaw locked as if the feel of me around him is both cure and punishment.

Heartbeats tick by and neither of us moves. The bond hums for an eternity. Then his forehead lowers to mine.

Eira.

My name in his mind sounds different now. Less accusation. More plea and… awe?

My throat tightens. ‘Valentin.’

I catch a torrent of emotions through the bond, flitting by at such insane speed I can’t decipher them all. But they’re profound enough to rob what remains of my breath.

Then he starts to move. And it turns frantic fast.

There’s no softness in the rhythm, but there’s care in the way his hand stays behind my head, in the way his other arm hooks under my thigh to keep my body angled for pleasure instead of force. He fucks me like he is angry at every second he almost lost me. Like he’s trying to drive fear out through sweat and skin and the brutal joining of our bodies.

I meet him just as fiercely.

Nails in his shoulders. Teeth at his throat. My hips lifting into every thrust because if we are falling, I’m apparently determined to make the descent loud.

His cock fills me, drags over nerves that spark pleasure through my spine, and each hard stroke takes me further from the dungeon, from Selphine’s lies, from the memory of my own blood choking me.

‘You feel too good, vampire,’ I pant. ‘That’s suspicious.’

His laugh is low and broken. ‘Investigate thoroughly.’

‘I hate you a little.’

‘You are clenching too hard for that to be convincing.’

‘Shut up.’

‘With pleasure.’

His mouth covers mine as he changes the angle, and the next thrust punches a cry from me. He swallows it. Gives me another. Then another. His thumb finds my clit, rubbing with devastating precision until my body goes tight around him.

I feel him feel it. His pleasure moves through the bond in a savage, molten rush and mine answers.

The second orgasm hits like a collapse. I come with my mouth open against his, cunt locking around his cock, thighs shaking, mind filled with him. Shuddering, he drives deeper, buries himself to the root and comes with a roar torn from somewhere ancient.