The Savior (Black Dagger Brotherhood #17) - J.R. Ward Page 0,95

he watched her.

And it was about that purring sound.

As she licked her way up his shaft again, he hissed, his upper lip peeling back. Fangs. He had real, live honest-to-goodness fangs. And as she got a close look at them, so sharp, so white, she wondered what he was going to do with them—and had no fear. She wanted to know everything, feel it all, be a part of him, and not just for research purposes.

Because it was him.

God, the idea that he hadn’t been with anyone for a while made her feel again like they were connected. More similar than dissimilar. In spite of the obvious differences.

“Enough,” he groaned as he sat up in a rush and pulled her on top of him. “I need in you.”

The next thing she knew she was on her back on the couch and he was on top of her, his great weight bearing down, her thighs split wide around his pelvis, that sex of his a firebrand at her core. With some trick of the hips, he angled himself properly, and she braced herself for a powerful penetration.

No regrets, she thought.

She had no regrets about any of this. If anything, he was a blessing she never would have had the guts to pray for.

“I’m ready,” she told him as he hesitated.

“I just don’t want this to be over.”

Funny, she knew exactly what he meant.

With a groan, he dropped his mouth to hers and kissed her as he slid inside, inch by slow, delicious inch. No pounding after he’d filled her, either. Just a retreat and re-advance, gentle … sweet. And she was glad. As much as she wanted the raw passion, he was very large and it had been a long time.

The self-control cost him, however. Sweat broke out across his shoulders, and the muscles in his arms tightened up until they spasmed, the veins in his neck looking like ropes.

It was incredible, though. The in and the out, the friction, the heat—

Pleasure, already at a stinging level, grew inside of her and snapped free in a glorious release, the waves of sensation radiating outward from her core, sure as if her body were a vessel catching golden rays.

Against his mouth, in the middle of the orgasm, she whispered, “Don’t hold back. I can take it.”

Because she wanted him to experience the same thing, at the same time.

But he just held his course, slow and steady, letting her ride out her release.

When it was over, he closed his eyes and dropped his head into her neck. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Sarah cleared her throat. And then tilted her head to the side. “Do you want to …”

“What?”

“This,” she said as she stroked up her own throat.

As he stared at her in alarm, she said it again. “Do you want this?”

That purr came back, louder, deeper, more urgent. And the sound of it was what put her over the edge again, especially as she imagined those razor-sharp points buried in her vein. Throwing her head back, she moved against his static body, stroking herself on his arousal, riding out the pulses until he started to orgasm along with her.

As he kicked inside of her, filling her up, her sex gripping and releasing his erection, he started to move again, faster now. Faster and harder.

The next thing she knew, he had locked her in a tight hold, one arm under her shoulders, the other wrapping around the back of her knee and pulling one of her legs up. His power, his strength, his heavy body, was an erotic cage that she nonetheless knew she held the key to: She was unafraid of him while she soared.

She trusted him.

And he did not stop.

Whereas a human man would have stilled after his first orgasm, Murhder just kept going, more of the releases coming for him as they did for her, the pleasure seemingly unending, the sex suspending them both in an infinite now that was full of sensation.

Eventually, though, he locked against her hips one last time, and then he collapsed, draping his torso over the back of sofa as if he didn’t want to smother her.

In the silence, they both breathed hard, their bodies throwing off heat, their limbs entwined.

The peace that followed was as profound as the passion had been.

Except when he finally looked over at her, there was a sheen in his eyes that had nothing to do with happiness.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered, running a hand up his biceps.

All he

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