Taken by a Vampire (Vampire Queen) - By Joey W. Hill Page 0,34

repetitive bump against her clit.

When at last he came to a stop, she estimated they’d covered several miles in less than a half hour. Her breath was unsteady, her palms damp against his chest. In the not-so-casual insertion of his thumb beneath her clasped hands, the intimate rub against the damn creases of her palm, he acknowledged the arousal she was sure he could scent.

“Look up,” he said. “This is our first stop. The one where the moon’s track is important.”

Reluctantly shifting her grip to his shoulders, she tilted her head back. The clearing was so small the tree branches laced together around it. The moon was directly in the center of their circle, a halo of yellow-white light radiating out from the white pearl.

“Like a moon goddess in a circle of ancient witches, reaching up with bony fingers to adore her.” Evan was behind her. “Lean all the way back and let go, Alanna. Keep your eyes on the moon.”

Tightening her thighs over Niall’s hips, she obeyed. Compliance had long ago made the issue of trust irrelevant. As she dropped her head back, she let go of the Scot’s shoulders. A short drop of her upper body through space, and then she was at a forty-five degree angle. Niall held her ankles locked securely around his body as Evan’s palm supported her between her shoulder blades. “Lift your hand,” the vampire said. “Toward the moon.”

He’d sent a command to Niall, because the servant turned inside the grasp of her legs. As his groin rubbed against hers from the movement, her body contracted in reaction. His large hands rested on her thighs as her ankles crossed over the rise of his buttocks.

“Alanna.”

She jerked her hand up, obeying Evan’s command. The vampire intercepted it, catching her wrist, stroking it, soothing her, and then eased her hand upward along the track he wanted before he let her go.

As her fingers reached toward that full sphere, Niall’s met them. His forefinger crossed her middle finger, his ring finger crooking around her smallest one. The branches formed the backdrop, the moon casting different types of light against pale skin, tanned skin, the gray-toned bark.

“There. Keep them still.” She heard the camera clicking from below and realized Evan was crouching beneath them, working the camera one-handed as he kept the bracing hand on her back. “Now, move your fingers with Niall’s however you like. Just keep them inside the moon’s sphere.”

Complying, she saw their fingers were becoming part of the tapestry of the tree branches. When the pictures were developed, she wondered if it would be hard to distinguish what part was human hands, and what digits belonged to the trees, reality concealed by the twist and turns of the shadows, the light breeze moving those thinner branches, the haze of the moon’s aura behind it all.

Move your fingers with Niall’s however you like . . . She started in a functional way, a predictable pattern, not certain what Evan was seeking, but Niall slowed her pace, made it a more random, sensual dance, like that of the trees. His fingers slid under and over hers, tracing her knuckles, the tender flesh between. The wind moving the branches became something different, spirits dancing for the moon, a dance in which they were also a part.

Niall’s thumb slid down the center of her palm, gliding over her wrist pulse, then went back up, following her straightening fingertips, exercising enough pressure her fingers uncurled and responded to the strength of his, like the branches giving way before the breeze. Her thighs constricted further on his waist, his hips, responding to his hardening cock with a rhythmic undulation. It felt natural, like part of the dance, and Niall’s other hand pressed into her hip, underscoring it.

Evan set aside his camera to free her hair. He combed out the braid, putting her in a state of bliss at the stroking caress. When the hip-length tresses came loose, they drifted to the forest floor, the weight of it pulling her head back so her throat arched. She wanted to look at him, but kept her eyes on the moon, her lips parted with pleasure.

Niall met her fingertips in a tent shape, sliding back down between the crevices, clasping her hand, holding that unified shape, an octagonal space between their palms through which the light of the moon funneled, spreading its glow on what should be the dark side of their grip. The camera clicked again, Evan’s other hand leaving her