Bane's Choice (Vampire Motorcycle Club #1) - Alyssa Day Page 0,100

it continued down his body. As it wrapped around his cock. He jerked, his head falling back from the electric rush of the contact. Her touch branded him with pleasure. Her laughter brought him back to life.

Her kisses filled him with more warmth than he’d ever known in the bleak emptiness of his entire existence.

A nasty voice in the back of his mind asked him what he’d do when she finally realized what a monster he was and left him. Or when her angelic father showed up and tore her from him.

No.

He grasped her shoulders and pulled her up on her toes until they were face to face. “Don’t leave me, Ryan.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough to counteract the sudden terror that enveloped him.

“Promise me,” he demanded. “Swear it.”

She stared into his eyes for what seemed like an eternity, and then she nodded. “I promise.”

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly for a long, long while, until he could force his traitorous body to stop shuddering. And then, when he finally relaxed his grip, she flashed him a very naughty smile, bent down, and took his cock in her mouth.

He groaned, long and harsh, and his hands tangled in her hair, holding her in a gentle grip that she could escape at any time—desperate to feel all of it. Everything. Her lips and tongue tasted him, and then she gave a tentative suck, and a stronger one, and a sound he’d never made before wrenched its way out of his throat.

He was drowning in sensation—sure he might die from it—and then she wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and took his balls in her other hand, stroking and stroking, and licking and sucking, applying pressure and movement and friction, and he was almost certainly going to climb out of his skin, she was driving him mad.

He bucked against her, helpless to stop himself, sure she’d stop what she was doing since he was basically fucking her mouth, but instead she tightened her grip on his cock and moved her hand up and down in short, strong strokes, sucking his cock, licking the head, still stroking his balls, until he had no idea how he was still standing, and the stars themselves pinwheeled behind his closed eyelids and he shouted, he was coming, he was coming so damn hard his brain would surely burst, and she sucked on him and licked him and sucked it all down, and he convulsively jerked, again and again, beneath her hands and mouth, until finally, he was drained of both seed and strength.

This time, it had been he who shouted her name.

He stood there, leaning back against the tile wall, touching her hair and her face, gasping in air, unable to think or breathe or speak, and she stood and put her arms around his neck.

“Bane,” she said proudly, her beautiful face alight with a smile. “I am a goddess.”

Before she could say another word, he was fucking her.

…

Ryan gasped when Bane yanked her up off her feet, put her legs around his waist, and drove his cock inside her. First, she lost her breath.

Then she lost her mind.

And her body—all of it—lit up from within with sensation.

Lit up with actual, honest-to-angel, light.

“You—ohhhhh,” she said, her eyes rolling back in her head. “Am I hurting you? The electric shock, I, you, ohhhhhhh.”

“Definitely not hurting me,” he growled, thrusting into her body again and again. Kissing her face, her neck, her lips.

“You certainly recover quickly. I didn’t think—oh, yes—that the blood supply to the corpora cavernosa could—”

“Ryan,” he growled.

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

Normally, she would have protested, but her body had different ideas and kept arching up to meet his deep, deep thrusts, and he was holding her and driving his body inside her, over and over, in a timeless rhythm that had little to do with skill or finesse and everything to do with want and need and now.

She felt her inner muscles accommodate him, pulsing around him, welcoming his invasion into her most private place, and she leaned her head back and moaned, closing her eyes, becoming a creature of pure sensation—pure pleasure—pure desire.

Slowly, and then with an almost-impossibly rising heat and frenzy, her passion rose to meet his, and they came together in a symphony of magical sensation.

“More,” he growled. “Take more of me. Take all of me.”

And she nodded, widening her legs even further, adjusting the angle of her hips to