I want your heart and soul.
The whisper would have stolen her last defense if she'd had any. You have them.
You are safe in my keeping. And she was. As long as he lived and breathed, beyond that even, he would protect and cherish her.
His tongue found slick heat, warm honey, and he indulged himself, holding her there easily while he took what he wanted. Her hips bucked, her breath came in sobs, as he devoured her. Her body was primed for him, already shuddering with her first climax, and he was throwing her into the second one with the dancing of his fingers over and in her. She cried out his name, music to him, the soft, ragged, breathy sound, barely audible when she ground against him in an attempt to get relief. Her releases only added to the pressure building, forever building until she was chanting, Please, please, please.
Manolito raised his head and pulled her around to him, lifting her upright into his arms, pushing up with his body while he held her until he was standing. "Wrap your legs around my waist, MaryAnn." His voice was rough and mesmerizing.
"I don't have any strength." She didn't, her arms and legs heavy, her body still shaking from the series of orgasms. Even so, she locked her fingers on his shoulders while she circled his body with her legs.
"I have the strength for both of us. Just hold on, sivamet."
She locked her ankles and closed her eyes as he lowered her over him. The broad head of his cock drove through her soft, tight folds, the friction on her already-sensitive nerve endings making her cry out and bury her face against him. "I don't know if I can do this," she whispered. "It's too much, every time, too much."
How could she survive when her body was already in meltdown? Her need seemed unrelenting, the pressure building and building as he withdrew and her muscles tried to grip and hold him to her.
Manolito caught her hair and pulled her head up so he could find her mouth with his. He needed to kiss her. To feel part of her, to be inside of her. He looked into her eyes and saw need there, hot and yet filled with such love. His heart jerked in his chest, and he kissed her again, using a gentle rhythm to entice her to ride him. His hands gripped her bottom, lifting her, showing her, feeling the silken heat flash through him when her muscles clamped down.
So hot. A searing fire streaking up his cock and spreading to every inch of his body. The primitive need to possess her was a dark lust that wouldn't-couldn't-be stopped. Heat, lust, love, passion and arousal all mingled together as the bite of her muscles clamped around him and silken walls tightened until he was strangling somewhere between pleasure and pain.
Manolito shifted again, tipping her back onto the bed so he was bent over her, watching them come together, watching her body stretch impossibly to accommodate his. The sight of her body accepting his was so erotic it shook him. Her tight sheath was velvet soft but scorching, so that he lost his ability to think, to control, until he was pumping into her, deeper and deeper, while the white-hot pleasure burst around him.
She rose to meet every drive of his hips, every thrust and surge, urging him to a harder, faster ride, until he felt her release ripping through her like a firestorm-catching him up in the vortex, sucking and milking while streaks of lightning raced over his cock and he exploded deep inside her, jet after jet pulsing while her body gripped him hard. He lay over her for a long while, gasping her name, stroking her back, fighting for control when his body no longer belonged to him.
Gently he lifted her all the way onto the bed and lay down beside her, his legs too weak to hold him up any longer. She burrowed close to him, her arms around his neck, her breasts pressed against him, body still
shuddering with pleasure.
"I think I am alive," he said, faint humor in his voice.
"I'm not." She was tired. Exhausted, but every time he shifted, her body reacted.
He moved against her, his mouth trailing down her throat to the swell of her breast, and she held her breath as she felt his incisors prick her skin. Instinct was taking over and she wanted what he was offering. She arched closer, but he merely flicked her breast with his tongue, pulling back as he rolled over.
It was too late for him. He had taken her blood numerous times, so much so that he knew the infection raged in his body. His Carpathian blood prevented him from feeling too many of the effects, but still, the wolf was in him now. But MaryAnn, it wasn't too late for her. He just had to maintain control at all times. Making love to her was the most dangerous of times because the need, the craving for her blood was on him all the time.
She lay in silence for a long while, listening to the combined rhythm of their heartbeats. Finally she propped herself up onto her elbow, levering up onto her side so she could look at him. "Manolito, I'm in your mind and I can feel your need to convert me. You don't just want to do it; every instinct you have is demanding it."