Page 27

“Yes!” she gasped.

The Vamp went instantly still behind her, and at that moment, Fey wasn’t sure which one of them was more shocked by her answer. She hadn’t been expecting him to use persuasion, hadn’t been ready to wash his words away before she could answer.

And she sure as fuck hadn’t been expecting to say that.

Fey clenched her mouth shut, embarrassment replacing the desire that had been building in her body. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she prayed to the Goddess he would just let her go. Or maybe the ground could open beneath her and swallow her up. Maybe she could just drop dead. Anything to get her out of this humiliation.

She couldn’t even feel him breathe anymore; he was so still behind her. But something in his stance had changed, and when he pressed her forward against the desk again, she felt something hard against her back that she hadn’t noticed there before.

“I didn’t mean that,” Fey said. His hand shifted against her hip, gripping her harder, and she whimpered. He still held her hair in his fist. When he pulled her head back again, he brought his face to her cheek.

“Oh, I think you did, little Witchling.”

His lips were torture, a soft caress against her skin. Fey trembled against him like a bird, feeling the heat return to her blood.

“And do you want to know why I think that?” he asked.

Fey couldn’t answer. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

She felt him take a deep breath, inhaling her scent, his nose against the space between her ear and her neck. “You smell like sex, Witchling,” he purred into her ear, and a moan escaped her throat before she could stop herself.

This time it wasn’t his fangs she felt against her neck, it was his lips. The barest touch as he whispered against her skin. “Tell me, Witchling—are you wet right now?”

“No.” she snapped.

His laugh was a taunt. “Lying, again.”

His hand moved from her hip and onto her stomach, pressing hard against her abdomen and moving lower. Every movement of his fingers as they snaked down her body felt like a threat.

“I think you are. I think when I reach my fingers down there, I’ll find you dripping wet and ready for me.”

He moved his hips back, peeling her away from the desk just enough to slide his hand down the front of her dress a little more. Fey knew he was right.

Without him pinning her against the desk, she had more freedom of movement, and she used that freedom to grind herself back against him. She found his cock hard against her ass, and he hissed through his teeth as she moved against it.

“I don’t think I’m the only one who got a little turned on,” Fey taunted, craning her head so she could look back at him with a mocking smile. “So why don’t you let me go, and we’ll call it even?”

He growled, and Fey briefly wondered why she would be stupid enough to make him angry again when he suddenly spun her around to face him, the desk now against the small of her back.

His fist still clutched her hair, angling her head up so she was forced to look him in the eyes. His stare was full of anger and lust, and Fey wasn’t sure which one terrified her more.

Fey brought the tip of her tongue out once more, poking at the wound on her bottom lip and wetting the drying blood she found there, her eyes never leaving his.

The noise he made was nothing short of animalistic as his lips crashed against hers. Every thought in her brain abandoned her as he bit down on her bottom lip, drawing a fresh burst of pain and blood to the surface. He took her bottom lip between his and sucked greedily before kissing her.

He kissed her like it was a battle, and Fey could taste her blood on his tongue. She found she didn’t care. She didn’t care that he was a Vampire, didn’t care that her lips would be bruised tomorrow. Fey didn’t care that her sisters were waiting for her. Joy was probably beside herself with worry. She didn’t care about anything but what his lips and tongue were doing.

Letting go of her hair, his hands moved to her ass, lifting her onto the desk without breaking the kiss. He pushed her legs open to bring himself closer, pressing himself flush against her body. His hands moved up her thighs, shoving her dress to her hips.

Fey moaned against his mouth, pulling him closer by his shirt. His thumbs were a searing heat on the inside of each of her thighs. He started to move them in slow, luxurious circles against her skin, and Fey thought she’d go mad if he ever stopped.

She wanted. More than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. The heat of him was driving her insane.

He broke the kiss then, moving back just a fraction to look her in the eyes as his right hand moved higher up her leg. The hunger was still there, burning in his golden eyes, and so was that cold rage, but both were nothing compared to the lust she saw in his stare as he looked down at her.

“You’re going to tell me what you were doing here in my office,” he told her. His right thumb moved up to the top of her thigh, brushing over her panties. Her back arched involuntarily as he touched her.

“Fuck you.”