“You canalwayssay no,” he promised her. “If you say stop, I’ll stop. No questions asked. I never want you to do something because you feel like you have to — which isn’t the same as being pushed out of your comfort zone. I mean when I ask you to do something that you really, truly don’t want to do. The games we play are about doing what I say becauseyouwant to. Because you trust me. Because you know that your pleasure and happiness are all I want at the end of the day, not my own. If that isn’t there, then it’s worthless.”
“You’ve done this a lot.” It wasn’t a question, but he wasn’t sure what else it was.
“Yes,” he replied. “I’ve had a lot of subs. Does that bother you?”
“Not really. I figured as much.” She tilted her head toward the bedroom. “You have a lot of weird shit attached to your bed, Luis.”
Thinking back to what felt like a lifetime ago, when she’d kissed him and run away, he asked, “Is that why you wouldn’t give me a chance?”
Francesca stepped away. He let her go, though he hated doing it.
She padded over to the shower she’d cleaned dozens of times and pressed several buttons on the control pad, activating the overhead rain and the steam. Not looking at him, she answered, “Yes and no. No, because Iobviouslydon’t mind that side of you. Yes, because…” She paused, choosing her words. “Because I know how a man like you operates, Luis, and I don’t have any interest in having my heart broken.”
Breath shortening, Luis padded behind her. “And how do I operate, Frankie?”
She turned to face him. “You play,” she answered, calm and terribly certain. “You play with people. You play with your role. It’s a tidy way to excuse the fact that you don’t want to get attached to your partners or have them know you as a real, multi-faceted person.”
A soft hand touched his chest. In a gentler voice, she added, “If that’s what you need, if that’s what makes you happy, then that’s okay. But it’s not for me.”
Luis grabbed the sides of the undershirt she wore. Lifting it over her head, he exposed her naked breasts and plain black panties to his hungry gaze.
“And what if I don’t want to play?” he growled, hooking his fingers in her panties to drag them down her thighs.
Francesca’s breath hitched. “Then that’d be very out of character for you, I think.”
“You’re right. Idowant to play. Just not the game you think I do.” A rueful smile crossed his lips. Shrugging out of his ruined shirt, he swiftly freed himself of his dress shoes and socks before he began unbuckling his blood splattered trousers.
“I want you,” he told her, flat and honest as a man like him could be. “Always have, from the moment we met. But I don’tthink you understand what kind of game we’re playing here, kitten.”
Stepping out of his briefs and trousers, he placed his hands on her hips and began to slowly back her into the steamy shower. The sound of water raining down from the showerhead embedded into the ceiling was a soothing addition to the panting breaths she released.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“I didn’t really either until tonight, but that doesn’t mean anything’s different. I’ve just been making moves blind until now.”
He knelt on the shower floor, a supplicant before her. Gently lifting her left leg to balance her knee on his shoulder, he pressed his lips into the divot of her bellybutton to sip the sweet water that gathered there.
The steam tasted like her, too. She invaded every one of his senses, filling his lungs, his mouth, his ears withher.Sliding the tip of his tongue between her slick folds, he found her swollen and needy already, like she was attuned to him as he was to her.
And we aren’t even mated yet.The thought sent a roaring fire of satisfaction through him.
Soon, she’d be his completely. Her blood would be even sweeter than it already was when it was saturated with his venom. Her scent would change, telling all the world who she belonged to, and soon enough she’d be able to carry their children — a task that called to the most base and pervasive instinct in all vampires.
One he’d happily see fulfilled at her earliest convenience.
Francesca’s fingers curled in his wet hair, twisting to the point of pain as he lavished her clitoris with the attention it was due. One hand crept up her thigh to gently tease her entrance before pushing a finger in, ever mindful of his claws, and curled against her inner wall.
She moaned, hips rocking. Seeking more.
His finger fluttered as he gently scraped his front teeth against that sensitive skin. Francesca jumped a little, a cry tearing from her throat, and clenched hard around his digit. Desperately pleased with her responsiveness, he rewarded her with painting circles with his tongue, teasing her gently until she couldn’t take it any longer.
His neglected cock pulsed against his thigh, rock hard and leaking a steady stream of pre-come. It didn’t matter. He’d mastered the art of self-denial years ago. His pleasure always came secondary to his sub’s, and Francesca’s was the most important of all.
Her stomach rippled above him, the muscles tightening in a wave moments before they locked. Her orgasm was hard and fast. It shook her thighs and forced her walls to milk his finger as he prolonged it as much as he could.
When it began to subside, he reluctantly peeled his mouth away from her center. The taste of her lingered on his tongue, salty and sweet and perfect, when he caught her glossy stare.
“I’m playing for keeps,” he promised, giving himself a slow stroke with the hand that’d had the privilege of being inside her. “You’re mine, kitten. Always.”