Page 81

“Can’t,” I groan. “Cas, please. I can’t. I need… I need…”

“Who am I to resist when you beg so prettily?”

With no more warning than that, he sinks his fangs and fingers into me at the same time.

I’m full, so impossibly full. With his fingers, with the sharp invasion of his bite. With the waves of pain and pleasure that mingle and spread, fanning out from where he draws long, hot swallows from between my legs, into my belly, my chest, tightening my nipples and twisting in my core.

Only a few short seconds later, a fast, brutal climax rips from me. Instant, devastating, breaking from me with a rasped sob and my back bowed so far off the chair I’m surprised I don’t go tumbling onto the floor.

Cas stays with me the whole time. Fangs still sunk deep, he keeps one hand knuckles-deep in my pussy, crooking his fingers forward and drawing wave after wave of pleasure from me, the other soothing over my hip, my stomach, the leg I have draped over his shoulder. He draws from me in steady, even pulses that radiate from the fading sting of his fangs into my muscle, my sinew, my bones. My soul.

When the aftershocks slow, he pulls back an inch, swipes his tongue out to heal the marks, and smirks up at me.

“That’s one.”

Before I can ask what he means, his mouth is on me again. Not a bite this time, but with lips wrapped around my clit, sucking hard. His fingers work mercilessly over that sensitive spot inside me, keeping me full and writhing on him, chasing the pleasure that’s already starting to build again.

As good as his bite feels, this might be even better.

All his single-minded focus, the rapt attention he fixes on me as he learns my curves and contours, discovers the places that make me moan and the ones that make me scream. The wet, obscene workings of his mouth, his tongue, slipping into the damp heat of my pussy and stroking deep.

I grind shamelessly against him, and when I grab for his hair, he doesn’t correct me this time. He growls his approval into my skin and works me even harder, determined to throw me over that edge again.

One more crook of those fingers, a particularly skillful twist of his lips around my clit, and I shatter. It lasts even longer this time, wrings me through and leaves me panting and boneless, slumped helplessly against the chair.

Cas presses wet, messy kisses against my pussy, my thighs. He teases me with his fangs, laps at me with enthusiastic abandon, drawing out each little wave of pleasure.

I’m still shaking from the last tremors of my orgasm when Cas rises from his knees and scoops me up in one smooth movement. I tuck my head into his chest and feel the tender press of his lips on the top of my head as he carries me up the stairs and to the same bedroom he brought me to last time.

He sets me gently on the bed, and I can’t help my groan as I stretch out on the plush duvet. I’m nearly lost to that bliss and my post-orgasm haze when I notice him lingering beside the bed instead of joining me, hesitating like he’s not sure if he’s allowed.

I’m not exactly sure how I get my muscles to cooperate, but somehow I manage to drag myself up and kneel at the edge of the bed. Cas stays right where he is, though his eyes darken and his mouth falls open on a tight, breathless inhale as I turn around and give him my back.

“Help me with the zipper?”

I feel the warmth of him behind me just before he touches me—mywarmth, the warmth I gave him with my blood. He runshis hands over my hips, my waist, fingertips trailing up to the nape of my neck.

I shiver as he slowly works the zipper down, then grin at his low, rumbling growl when he doesn’t find anything underneath. The dress is tight and structured enough that I don’t really need a bra, and since he already tossed my panties aside somewhere downstairs…

“Ophelia,” he breathes, and I can almostfeelthe last threads of his restraint getting ready to snap as I slide the sleeves down my arms and shimmy a little to get it the rest of the way off me.

I toss the dress aside and turn to face him, kneeling in front of him in all my naked glory.

“Cas,” I murmur, and the pulse of hunger in his eyes sends a shock of arousal all the way through me.

His hands are on my hips a moment later, though instead of crushing me to him like I might have expected, he pauses. He takes a long, slow look at me, and when he meets my gaze again, there’s something almost like awe in his expression.

“You’re exquisite,” he says, and the words sound like worship.

I reach for the row of buttons running down the front of his shirt, and he drops his hands to tug at the bottom of it where it’s tucked into his tailored black pants.

But it’s my turn.

I grasp his wrists and smirk up at him.

“Let me,” I tease, echoing his words from downstairs.

For a moment, I think he won’t comply. Those crimson fires in his eyes burn brighter, and he goes utterly still—a predator trying to decide if he’s going to let his prey have a little fun.