The Last True Vampire(16)
“Submit to me. You are mine.”
“Yes.” The word rang true, resonating deep within her soul. She was his and he was hers. Claire knew it as well as she knew herself. “I’m yours,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.
He entered her at the exact moment he sank his teeth into the flesh at her throat. Claire cried out, a ragged, desperate sound that tore through her. She broke apart. Shattered. A million particles of matter that separated and re-formed, changing her. Pleasure screamed through her, the orgasm so intense she didn’t think she’d survive it. Heat radiated from her throat where Michael suckled at her flesh as though the very act was all that could sustain him. He thrust in time with each deep pull, increasing Claire’s pleasure. One large hand reached up to cup her breast through the fabric of her T-shirt and she arched into his touch, letting out a low whimper when he brushed his thumb over the sensitive peak of one pearled nipple.
“Oh, god,” she gasped. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop, Michael.”
He thrust deeper, impaling her on his hard length. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a wild, animalistic sound that shivered over Claire’s heated skin. The sound of her pulse rushing in her ears quieted, though another wave of pleasure crested over her, stealing her breath. She tilted her head to the side, if only to give Michael unhindered access to her throat, which he continued to bite, to suck, each pull of his mouth sending Claire further over the edge until she couldn’t form a coherent thought. She never, ever wanted this moment to end—
His name burst from her lips, but not the one he’d given her. “Mikhail!” This was his true name, and finally, in some unspoken way, he’d given it to her. As though she was worthy of knowing it. Of speaking it. He pulled away from her throat with a triumphant roar, crimson drops of her blood coloring his lips and dripping from the dual points of two sets of fangs.
Wait. Fangs?
Panic surged within her, banishing the pleasure Claire felt like the wind against blustery clouds. His eyes flashed silver, a predator’s eyes glinting in the darkness, and with the same animal ferocity he buried his face against her throat once more, the sharp bite of his fangs piercing her skin. He attacked her without mercy, drawing with ravenous sucks, and Claire’s arms became weak at her sides, numb. Her legs fell from his waist, though he continued to pound into her, each deep thrust laying claim. Her head lolled on her shoulders and Claire’s thoughts began to cloud as her breathing grew shallow. The slow thrum of her pulse slowed even more. One beat … Two. Thump … thump … Until it stilled in her chest completely and darkness swallowed her.#p#分页标题#e#
Claire came awake with a gasp, her heart hammering against her rib cage in a violent staccato. She clutched at her throat, her fingertips searching for puncture wounds at the same time that her body was coming down from the high of orgasm. Her sex pulsed, clenching around nothing as though it missed his absence even as her fear and panic sent her blood racing through her veins. Despite the fear, the utter lucidity of her dream, Claire wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her entire life.
Holy shit. She’d had some weird dreams, but this one took the cake. The entire dream was so visceral, every moment ingrained in her memory. It had felt so real. Her body ached as though she’d just spent the last hour having the best rough sex of her life. God, how he’d pounded into her— Claire’s breath caught as a rush of wetness slicked her thighs. And though she’d been terrified by the sight of him, fangs protruding, her blood staining his wicked mouth, she’d only wanted more. Wanted the sting of his bite at her throat, yearned for one more deep pull that seemed to fire all of her nerves, thrumming low in her core.
Was she sick, or what?
No one grew wet with desire at such a twisted thought. But Claire was wound tight with the need for release, despite the fact that she’d come again and again in her dream. She was insatiable, it seemed. But apparently only when it came to mysterious strangers who fondled her in public places.
Mikhail.
The name rang with truth. But how could she possibly know that? Claire rolled over and checked the time on her alarm clock: just past seven in the morning. She’d slept less than six hours, but it felt like days spent in another world. A world she was desperate to return to.
How could she feel so connected to someone she didn’t even know?
With a couple of bicycle kicks she disengaged the sheet and comforter from her body. Beneath her worn secondhand Nine Inch Nails concert tee, her skin was clammy and slick with sweat. Jesus, she was burning up. She brought her hand up to massage her aching brow and the heavy Patek watch slid down her arm to almost her elbow. A very large wrist had sported this hardware at one time, and it only made Claire remember how big and imposing the rest of his body was as well.