Dark Seduction (Vampire Royals of New York #2) - Sarah Piper Page 0,30

pushed her over that bright, tingling edge…

She fell, hard and fast.

The orgasm exploded inside her like fireworks, starburst after epic starburst, leaving her wet and trembling, chasing the very last breath from her lungs.

Through it all, she remained silent.

And in the end, when the last tremor rolled through her body, Dorian broke their gaze and rested his forehead on her shoulder, and Charley closed her eyes and tried, in vain, to count the stars swimming before them.

The moment was sweet, but fleeting, and after a few more blissful heartbeats, he finally pulled out from between her thighs and tucked himself back into his pants.

Charley wasn’t ready to lose him, though. Not yet.

“I’m not afraid of you, Dorian Redthorne.” She turned around to face him and lifted her hand, fingertips tracing a path from his brow bone down to his mouth. He opened at her touch, and she slid her thumb inside, grazing the edge of a razor-sharp fang.

At the barest pressure, it sliced through her skin, blood beading on the surface and dripping onto his tongue.

Another low growl vibrated from his chest, and his eyes turned from their rich honey-gold to a deep, dark red. It felt like watching the sun rise over the ocean, and it filled her with wonder.

My vampire king...

It was mysterious and impossible.

It was the sexiest, most incredible thing she’d ever seen.

Charley slid in deeper, and Dorian closed his lips around her thumb and sucked, moaning reverently. She brought her other hand to his cheek, and he fell to his knees, suddenly lost to the taste, the pleasure, the feed.

His soft, warm tongue stroked her skin, the delicious pressure of the suction winding her tight with new desire.

With power.

She let him take it—just for another minute—then dragged her thumb out of his mouth, lingering on his lower lip.

Dorian glanced up at her, his red eyes gleaming with so much hunger, she was certain he’d grab her exposed thigh and sink his fangs into her femoral artery.

But instead, he fisted the hem of her sweater and brought his mouth to her belly, kissing a hot path up to her breasts as he slowly rose from the floor. In a flash, he tugged the sweater over her head and tossed it behind him, then cupped her face, his mouth descending in a searing kiss.

She tasted her blood in his mouth, tasted his desire for her, tasted his pain. It was all wrapped up together, pulsating through his vicious kiss until there wasn’t a single lie left between them—not one their bodies could tell, anyway.

Charley finally pulled back, staring deep into his eyes, once again bright and golden. His fangs had receded.

“Tell me you meant it,” she whispered, knowing she was skating on the knife’s edge, begging him for something she had no business wanting, but unable to stop the words. More than the story of the planned robbery, more than the desperate apology she’d rehearsed in her mind for hours, more than the pleasure he’d coaxed from her body, this felt like the true confession. The ultimate baring of her soul. “Last night… Tell me it wasn’t a dream, Dorian.”

His eyes clouded, and she knew at once he understood her meaning.

She was asking about his own true confession, a ghost that still whispered in her ear.

I’ve bloody well fallen in love with you, Charlotte D’Amico…

“Not a dream,” he said, closing his eyes. “Only a momentary lapse in judgment. I assure you—it won’t happen again.”

“Liar,” she whispered, taking his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her again. She could see it in his eyes—the embers still burning for her, the tenderness.

The love.

It was as new as the dawn on New Year’s Day, as fragile as a soap bubble, but it was real.

Not a dream. Not a lapse in judgment. Not something that wouldn’t happen again.

Despite everything, it was happening right now.

Fresh anger blazed in his eyes, as if he resented her for recognizing the truth, and he kissed her again, desperately working his way down her neck. Her hair hung low in front of her breasts, and he pushed it behind her shoulders, clearing the way for his hot mouth.

But then, without warning, he stopped. Pulled back. Gasped.

His fingers hovered over her collarbone, as if he was afraid to touch her.

His eyes widened, then filled with hot, new rage.

This time, it wasn’t directed at her.

It was directed at the man who’d marked her.

Chapter Eleven

“Who… did… this?” Dorian could barely get the words out, fangs burning through