This Side of the Grave (#5 Night Huntress)

I sank my fangs into him, reveling in the shudder that went through his body and the shout that seemed to erupt from his throat. The ambrosia of
his blood teased my tongue as, very carefully, I rocked my mouth against him, taking his cock deeper without enlarging the punctures I’d made in it.
This had taken practice to perfect.
That blend of ecstasy and pain swarmed back over my emotions. He groaned, hips lifting in time to the rhythmic movement of my mouth. I pulled
my fangs out to sink them in again at the base of his groin, only my vampiric lack of a gag reflex making it possible for me to enclose him
completely. Then, I sucked once more, running my tongue along his length while swallowing the drops of blood that leaked past my fangs from the
punctures.
“Turn around,” Bones said hoarsely as his hands urged me up toward him.
I resisted, knowing what he wanted and also knowing I’d lose all sense if I let him do it.
“No. Just you, or I’ll stop,” I said, the words somewhat garbled, but punctuated with another slide of my fangs into his flesh.
He moved so that he was on his side, his body curled toward mine, hand reaching between my thighs. A choked moan escaped me as he
rubbed my cleft, thumb circling my clitoris even as his fingers penetrated my depths.
“You’re so wet,” he muttered. “I want to drown in your taste and cover myself with your scent.”
The graphic imagery made even more things inside me tighten, but I had a reason for not wanting him to go down on me, even if I couldn’t recall
it at the moment.
“No,” I said again, taking him back inside my mouth and grazing his length with my fangs.
He groaned. “Soon. Don’t stop, Kitten. Deeper. More.”
I encased him to the hilt again, sucking even more strongly. His hand stayed where it was, fingers moving over my flesh with greater insistence,
making my hips arch with each accompanying stroke. An ache began to build in me, a familiar tension that spoke of needs that couldn’t be denied.
Each rub wound me tighter, inflaming me. I continued to draw on the hard length of him, licking and biting the spots I knew he liked best, trying not to
give in to the urge to feast on his blood. His hand moved faster, until cries spilled from my mouth even though they were muffled by his flesh.
“I can’t wait anymore,” Bones all but snarled.
I barely had time to pull my fangs out of his skin before he yanked me up, sliding down at the same time. His arms lashed around my waist,
holding me in a viselike grip, mouth latching onto the soft, tingling flesh between my legs.
Pleasure slammed into me like a dam had burst. His fingers dug into my hips, molding me closer. Tongue and fangs and lips became a blur of
sensations that whipped me with rapture, stealing all thought under the chaotic flood. The more I moved, the higher it took me.
Harsh cries took on the cadence of breathing, fed by a million nerve endings that urged me on for more. Had his hands not held me, I would have
fallen from the tremors that started to rip through me. They culminated in an orgasm that felt torn out of me.
Some measure of coherence returned, enough to make me mildly embarrassed at how his head was now compressed several inches into the
mattress. He finally released his grip and I fell back onto the bed. When he crouched over me, his eyes were still fierce, flaming green. A chopped
inhalation escaped me when I saw traces of blood around his mouth. Mine? Or his?
“Bones—”
“Don’t.” Something lurked in his tone that shivered me. “Don’t say anything, especially ‘stop.’ You’re in for it now.”
He gathered me to him, pulling me to my knees and turning me around. One pale arm curved around my waist, holding me firmly. In the next
moment he thrust into me, sheathing himself in one rough stroke.
It made me cry out, as did the next one and the next, so hard and fast I felt tears leak from my eyes. He ran his mouth along my back before
dragging it to my ear.
“Don’t hold back.” His steady tone belied his movements, driving into me with more force than I thought I could bear. “Scream for me.”
“Too much.” My reply was panted at his frantic pace.
“Like hell,” he growled, licking my neck. “You pierced yourself on my fangs and you loved it. I feel your body, and you’re not in pain. Let go, like
you did before. Give in.”
He bent me forward, his hands on my hips the only thing supporting me. True to his prior directive, I began to scream at the ceaseless, blistering
passion of his body cleaving into mine harder than he ever had before. His grip immobilized me, accented voice muttering rough endearments
between groans of his own as the intensity built to a staggering pitch. When it crested to the point of overwhelming me, he leaned down and buried
his fangs into my neck, drinking my blood with strong, almost feral pulls of his mouth.
I collapsed onto the mattress, no strength, mindless, my release hitting me in pounding surges. It was so intense that I was only vaguely aware of