He was inevitable, the most devastatingly sexy word she"d ever applied to a man. When he stopped before her, the first words he spoke made it clear he understood it as much as she did.
It wasn"t a pickup line. The three words were command, intention and destiny, all at once.
“I want you.”
That yearning she felt in the small hours of the morning, the answer was this man. When the third point of the triangle came, the one who would be her slave, who would surrender and utterly belong to her, she was certain that yearning would become something even sweeter, sharper, even more impossible to describe. Fulfillment, a three-point star so powerful its light would explode inside her, bringing unimaginable emotional and physical pleasure.
Of course, on the reality of that night, she hadn"t had that clarity, but in the drifting fantasy of her dream, she knew it as truth, her desires meeting her memories.
She"d taken him to the Rose Room. It was remarkable that she"d chosen that room that night. Wall-to-floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the only prop a pedestal in the center with a vase of bloodred roses, a trail of petals scattered across the reflective floor.
He"d glanced into the room, a warrior"s caution, but it hadn"t given him pause. She"d barely crossed the threshold when his arms closed around her. She turned in that embrace, let out a small shudder of desire as he lifted her up against the wall and tore the side of her snug skirt all the way to the hip. She hadn"t worn any panties under it, because of the tightness of the garment and because she liked to feel her thighs compressing her labia as she walked, that pleasurable friction of skin on skin.
There were inviolate rules about protection, safety, boundaries. She knew there would be none of that between them. When he lowered his hand to touch her, she arched with a moan.
Finding her cunt, he pushed two fingers into soaking wet heat that clamped down on him, a shuddering spasm of response.
He freed himself from his jeans. She dug her fingers into his shoulders as he gripped her hips, pushed forward and pinned her deep and hard. He dove deep, to the hilt, and a sound between a breath, a moan and a cry wrenched from her throat. She refused to close her eyes, wanting him to see, to know that she did all of this willingly. That she was giving him control, not surrendering it.
His lips curled back from sharp fangs, a crimson flicker going through the dark eyes. The pupils were expanding, taking over the whites, those traces of hellfire threading through them.
As he pressed her up against the smooth mirror, she realized she couldn"t see him in any of the hundreds of reflections. It was just her, and yet she"d never felt more . . . not alone. His hand wrapped in her hair and exposed her throat. Crimson became flame in those wholly dark eyes, and then his fangs were there, sinking deep, just like his cock. Sensation exploded through every nerve ending, starting where they were joined.
That was all it took. She came hard on him, her fluids gushing over his thick length, her body wracked by convulsions as the pleasure gripped her in relentless hands, like his. He was still moving inside her, thrusting with brutal purpose, his mouth taking blood from her throat.
There was no opportunity or desire for games, no sense that she needed to prove to him that she was a Mistress, used to holding the reins. He knew all of it, knew all of her. It was frightening and thrilling at once. Handling him would be the challenge of her life.
She had no knowledge of paranormal beings, hadn"t really given them any thought, but she accepted who and what he was as if she"d always known. Her heart had been waiting for a vampire.