Dark Obsession (Vampire Royals of New York #3) - Sarah Piper Page 0,27
felt so bloody perfect, he wanted to weep.
They hadn’t been together like this since before Sasha was taken, and even though it had only been a few days, he was absolutely starved for her. After everything he’d recently endured—fighting off the grays in the alley, carrying her wounded body out of that dumpster, watching Colin stitch her up, bearing the weight of Isabelle’s crushing proclamation about her soul, torturing Rogozin’s demons, the fight at Estas’ place tonight—being inside her felt like a safe haven, a respite from every last one of life’s torments.
If Dorian could’ve stayed there for an eternity, he would have.
But Charlotte was already moving again, rolling her hips to bring him in deeper, desperate to lose herself to this momentary pleasure.
“More,” she demanded. “I want more of you.”
Wrapping a hand around her throat, he pushed her backward, her shoulder blades hitting the dash. The new angle of her body gave him even deeper access, and he thrust inside her, making her gasp. He slid his other hand beneath her shirt, running it up her taut stomach, then palming her breast. Beneath the lace bra, her nipple rose at his touch.
Charlotte closed her eyes.
“Fuck, yes,” she breathed. “Don’t stop.”
He had no intention of stopping. Not if Cole and Aiden emerged from the cabin and caught them in the act. Not if the grays returned and surrounded them. Not if the very pits of hell opened up and swallowed them whole.
The thought of hell reminded him of the demon mark, setting his heart ablaze.
I will not let you go, Charlotte D’Amico...
He fucked her deeper, harder, but it still wasn’t enough. Bringing her upright on his lap again, Dorian hooked his hands around her shoulders and pulled her down hard against him, thrusting to meet her desperate writhing, driving into her wet heat again and again, giving her everything she wanted.
It was so hot, so intense.
Already his fangs throbbed, aching to break through, aching to sink deep into her flesh.
Please don’t ask me to bite you, love. I won’t be able to say no…
Dorian was damn near delirious with the thought, but Charlotte wasn’t looking for the bite tonight. Only his cock, which she claimed with a wild, feverish desperation, as if she could ride him to some distant, foreign shore where nothing bad could ever touch them again.
The fog of their breath coated the windows, hiding them in their own private paradise.
And still, they didn’t stop.
Kissing. Teasing. Touching. Fucking. Devouring.
“Charlotte,” Dorian moaned, his balls tightening, so fucking close. Wherever she’d gone, he’d fucking follow, chasing her through all the darkness to the very edge of that achingly beautiful precipice.
He slid a hand between them, seeking her clit. At his touch, Charlotte let out a cry of pleasure, her body tightening around him like a fist.
“Fuck,” she whispered. “Right there. Right… God, Dorian. You always know how to… Yes…”
“That’s it, love,” he murmured, quickening his touch. “Come for me. Let me feel you break.”
“I’m so close. I’m… Dorian! Fuck!” She gasped and dug her fingers into his shoulders, her whole body shuddering as the orgasm took hold. A pink blush rose on her cheeks, her mouth parted in sheer ecstasy, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on her brow.
Dorian couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She was stunning—like an immortal goddess. And in that moment, he wished she truly was immortal.
He couldn’t bear the thought of a world without her.
Couldn’t bear the thought of his world without her—not even for a single day.
He brought his mouth to hers, capturing her final moans in a kiss. She writhed in his lap, and he dragged his lips down to her chin, to her throat, lingering in the hollow above her collarbone, drinking in the taste and scent of her skin.
“My vampire king,” she whispered dreamily, her body clenching him tight, and Dorian was gone.
“That’s…I’m… Fucking hell, woman!” He came hot and hard inside her, marking her. Claiming her. Reminding himself that she belonged to him, as surely as he belonged to her, and no one—nothing—would shatter that bond.
Not Estas.
Not Rudy D’Amico.
Not Alexei Rogozin.
And certainly not some pathetic demon lord lurking in the bowels of hell.
As the last, blissful tremors finally receded, Dorian stilled inside her, once again sensing the pulse of her heartbeat, the perfect heat, the softness.
She smiled at him in the darkness, and he lifted a hand to cup her face, holding her as if she were the most delicate summer rose on the vine.