Dying to Date(37)

Her fangs lengthened, and she scraped them gently against his skin.

“Do it,” he whispered against her ear.

She bit down without any further urging.

Melissa moaned in pleasure as his blood touched her tongue. Had she ever tasted anything as good as him? She drew a deep sip, savoring the richness.

Tarian’s hand fisted in her hair as she drank. A vampire’s bite could be pleasurable for their victims if they wanted it to be, and Melissa couldn’t help herself from sharing the joy she felt with him.

Every sip she took tasted like pure energy. She felt her body grow stronger and repair the damage the sun had caused. But more than heal, Tarian’s blood excited her, thrilled her.

He waltzed her backward until their legs bumped against the bed. They tumbled onto the soft mattress without Melissa ever giving up her prize.

Without conscious thought, she kicked a leg astride him as she drank. His taste was intoxicating. The desire she felt being around him amplified a thousand fold with his blood on her tongue.

Melissa rocked against him as she moved in time to her swallows. Lust laced through her veins, enthralling her as much as the blood did. The urge to laugh, to touch, to pleasure pounded through her. Given the rock-hard erection between her thighs, it was a craving Tarian shared.

Melissa wanted to drink forever. All too soon she reached the point where his heart shuddered as it tried to pump less blood through his body.

The predator in her demanded she finish what she’d started. She could take it all, every last drop.

But then there’d be no more. No more blood. No more Tarian.

And she had a horrifying suspicion she needed them both.

With a last long pull, she reared back.

“My God,” Tarian breathed, his eyes glazed with pleasure.

Melissa drew her tongue over the small puncture wounds to clean them of every last drop. Pressing her hands against his chest, she pushed herself up even though all she wanted to do was snuggle closer.

“I never knew,” he said. Tarian reached up to run his thumb over her mouth. She saw a smear of red across his skin when he removed his hand and instinctively caught it in her mouth.

Her tongue swirled over the pad of his thumb as she swallowed the last taste of him.

“Good?” he asked.

“Delicious,” she replied. She fought back the desire to roll her hips against his straining erection. Vampires could get blood drunk when they found a truly excellent victim, and she feared Tarian might just be her drug of choice.

“Your eyes are red.”

Melissa blinked, knowing what it meant. When a vampire’s true nature pushed to the surface their eyes reflected that loosening of control. Her eyes hadn’t changed color during a feed since she’d been a young fledgling. Rarely did they darken even during a night of great sex.

Yet Tarian shattered that tight rein she used to hold herself in check.

“I like it,” Tarian said as he hooked a hand around her nape.

She should resist, but when he tugged her down, common sense deserted her. His blood pumped through her veins, creating a connection she’d never experienced before. All she wanted was one more touch.

His lips met hers and ignited the desire she was trying to keep banked.

Melissa writhed over top of him. Her hands tugged at his T-shirt in an attempt to work it over his head.

His mouth left hers for the briefest second as he pulled the material over his head. Melissa nearly purred with pleasure when she looked down at his sculpted body. His golden skin offered stark contrast to her pale fingers. They were different in every way.

But that didn’t stop her from pressing her mouth to his chest and licking his essence off his skin.

“Yes,” Tarian hissed when her tongue lapped over a nipple. One hand tangled in her hair while the other fisted in the sheets. He was trying to be good, and she appreciated the gesture. It gave her free reign to play with him as she’d dreamed about.

Her fingers glided across his body, and she felt the muscles in his abdomen tighten at her touch.

Instinct urged her to remember he was a necromancer, not a lover, but the longer she spent in his company the further the line blurred. Right then she wasn’t undulating against an enemy. He was simply Tarian. A man she wanted to be hers.

Melissa traced one light fingertip along the waistband of his jeans, pausing just under his navel.

She rolled her eyes up to his as she began to kiss her way down his chest. Tarian bucked beneath her, urging her on with his body, if not his words.

Her fingers reached for the fly of his jeans, just as the world spun before her eyes.

Desire drained away as it became an effort to keep her head up.

“Tarian,” she breathed, resting her forehead against his chest.

“Melissa?” He reached down for her and rolled her onto the bed. “What are you—?” He paused and glanced at the electric clock on the nightstand. “Bloody hell,” he said. “Sweetheart, it’s dawn.”