Taken by a Vampire (Vampire Queen) - By Joey W. Hill Page 0,194

wrist. His mouth was a firm, sensual curve. “You’re being very forward, lass.”

“You didn’t come to bed last night.”

“I thought I might be skewered.” His smile became rueful. “I drank too much, muirnín. For a third mark, that’s saying something. I wasnae much company for anyone. Mel left me sleeping in the field above the lake. Woke up with ants crawling in my arse.”

“You could have come home.” She touched his face with the other hand. “I’m here. Evan and I are here. I need you to . . .”

He took the lemonade away from her, sat it on a flat rock. “What do you need from me, Alanna?”

“For whatever time I have, I want . . . I’m not trying to demand things. But I need you . . . to treat me as yours. The only thing I’ve ever wanted is to belong to a vampire.” Only now she understood how much more that word belong meant. It was a specific, targeted need. “I’m yours and Evan’s. Yours,” she emphasized, because she liked how it sounded. She curled her fingers in the sleek arrow of hair on his upper abdomen as his hand covered hers.

“I’m not a vampire.”

“The two of you are the same, even if you’re different. Treat me as yours. Please. Like Evan said, but . . . I want that, too.”

He studied her for another few pounding heartbeats, then he lifted his hand. She sat still, though her breath caught as he slid his fingers along her throat. When she lifted her chin, he curved them around, holding her collared. Another trio of heartbeats, more rapid this time, and he constricted that grip, letting her feel the hold. The heat of it swept over her, tightening her nipples, making her bear down so her body pressed closer to his, her dampening pussy against the hard muscles of his stomach.

“Aye. Ye might belong tae both of us at that.”

In one quick move, he’d turned them so she was under him, her legs finding a place along his hips and thighs, his body seated firm against the core of hers. She gasped when she realized how hard his cock was, hard and thick, throbbing against her. Rubbing herself against him earned a quiet noise of reproof.

“You’ll be still. You’re mine, are ye?”

“Yes,” she whispered. She tried to put her hand on his face again, but he caught both wrists, pulled her arms over her head.

“Ye leave them there, muirnín. If you’re mine, I’m going to have full pleasure of what’s mine. I woke up with a huge cockstand and no snug, wet cunt to take it. Then there ye are, coming across the compound, a beautiful angel I want to profane with every lustful thought I have. Next I know, you’re fighting Mel like a wee demon. Nothing stiffens a lad’s cock like seeing two women fighting over it.”

He gave her an arrogant grin then, one she should have answered with a proper cut down to tease him, but she honestly couldn’t think beyond the fire burning inside of her. I’m going to take full pleasure of what’s mine.

“Please,” she whispered, showing that fire to him. “I need you inside me.”

Evan and Niall had taught her to wear her desire on the outside like this, but hadn’t warned her how it could consume the insides. Fortunately, seeing her need in her face ignited the same in Niall. He was done talking, but not done teasing her.

He pushed up the tank to find her naked beneath it, something he registered with a sound between conservative disapproval and full male approbation. She bowed up into his mouth as he covered a nipple, began to suckle, while his hands wandered down her body, opening the shorts. When his fingers quested under the waistband of her panties, finding her cunt swollen and wet, she breathed into his mouth, a wordless plea. With a quiet oath, he shifted off her enough to rid her of the garments, then he was moving down her body.

They weren’t in the vampire world, where being taken in the open like this was beyond remark. When that penetrated, she made a reluctant movement, a reminder, but his grip held her fast. “If you’re mine, lass, then you’ll be mine whenever I desire. In the end, I’m just a rough and crude lad who wants my way with ye.”

A rough and crude lad whose tongue was capable of wringing a poetic symphony from a woman’s body. He immersed