His hands loosened their grip on her hips, sliding up her body to caress her stiffened nipples.
“Roke, I—”
Her words were lost as his tongue dipped into her body, thrusting in and out with a rhythm that destroyed any hope of savoring the moment.
She hissed between clenched teeth, reaching down to shove her fingers through his hair, pressing his wicked tongue even deeper.
“Yes, sweet Sally,” he growled between strokes. “Come for me.”
As if his words were magic, the pleasure swelled to a critical level and with a last thrust of his tongue, Roke catapulted her into ecstasy.
Stunned in the aftermath of her cataclysmic climax, Sally lay in a boneless daze as Roke kissed his way back up her stomach, lingering to lavish her sensitive breasts with detailed attention before he covered her with his hard body.
“I think I’m addicted to peaches,” he teased, his fangs scraping lightly over her throat.
Sally shivered, her hands sliding beneath his heavy leather jacket to shove it away from his shoulders.
“Off,” she murmured.
With liquid grace he shrugged the jacket off and tossed it on the floor. The leather garment landed with a thud, revealing he had a weapon tucked in a pocket. Probably more than one.
He gazed down at her with smoldering silver eyes. “Happy now?”
She slowly shook her head, her hands tracing the smooth planes of chest. Beneath her fingers she could feel his muscles flex at her touch, his body shuddering in pleasure.
“Not yet.”
He smiled. “More?”
“My turn.”
She yanked the tee up and over his head, her breath catching as she stared at the width of his naked chest.
She’d expected the chiseled muscles and smooth, bronzed skin. What made her breath catch was the magnificent dragon that had been tattooed over one pectoral muscle and down his rib cage.
Softly, she traced the outline of the golden, mythical creature before moving to the brilliant crimson wings and dark jade body.
“The mark of CuChulainn?” she asked. She’d heard of the mark given to those vampires willing to endure the battles of Durotriges to become clan chief, but she’d never actually seen one.
He made a choked sound of pleasure at her light touch. “Yes.”
She stroked to the tail that curled around his side. “Is it sensitive?”
He held her gaze as he slowly extended his arm. “Not as sensitive as this.”
She shivered at the sight of the mating tattoo that ran beneath the skin of his inner arm, the memory of his lips tracing the crimson marks stirring the desire she’d assumed to be well and truly sated.
Holding his gaze, she lifted her head to use her tongue to trail over the intricate curves of the crimson lines, her heart racing as his eyes darkened to a beguiling smoke.
“Shit . . . that feels good,” he muttered.
She continued to nuzzle the marking, her fingers moving to skim over the curve of his ribs and then down the hard ridges of his stomach. Reaching the waistband of his jeans, she popped the snap and unzipped his jeans.
Immediately his cock sprang free.
“And what about this?” she teased, curling her fingers around his impressive width. “Does that feel good?”
“Oh, hell yes.” He shoved himself up to perch on his knees, straddling her as he watched her explore his rigid length. “But, this isn’t—”