Page 122 of Immortal Bastard (The Order of Vampires)

Because the more records they kept the higher the risk. She understood the need for secrecy and why they were limited by any chance of exposure.

She had no choice but to trust him. “I don’t want to get pregnant, Christian. Tell me you understand my wishes.”

“I understand.”

“Promise me you’ll take precautions.”

“I can’t.”

Not expecting him to deny her, she gaped at him. “Why not?”

“Because the only precaution is abstinence. When an immortal female is fertile, she has needs. As your mate—”

“You must meet my needs. I get it. But consider this permission to ignore my needs in that instance.”

“I couldn’t if I tried. Your craving for my seed will be too strong. You’ll be in agony without the proper care.”

“You’re making it sound like I’ll be an animal in heat.”

“We are animals. And it’s very similar to what smaller creatures experience, but much more intense.”

“Well, this is just great.” She scoffed and paced into the den. “I have no control over anything.” Dropping into the chair where Christian liked to sit and read, she scowled. “There has to be another option. What about condoms or an IUD?”

“Your body is more of a medical marvel than mortal science could ever comprehend. Those methods won’t work for immortals.”

“So, it’s just sex or nothing.”

“I’d prefer it wasn’t nothing.”

“This is bullshit.”

“That’s two.”

She scowled. “I’m not in the mood.” With a huff, she left the den and marched up the stairs.

After witnessing the happiness of the other females, Delilah was more inspired to conform. She was coming to like her new clothes and tried thinking of subtle embellishments she could make to add a touch of originality. Maybe Gracie could teach her how to sew, and Delilah could eventually add little embroidered details to the cuffs.

She carefully braided her hair and pinned it in place, centering the thin white bonnet on top. Stepping back, she studied her reflection. “Holy…buttermilk.” Her closest friends wouldn’t recognize her in this getup.

When she returned downstairs, Christian was once again in the yard. He was always working on something around the house. She puttered around the kitchen, looking for anything to keep herself busy. He had a beautiful garden out back, so she helped herself to the crop.

Fat carrots and cucumber as long as her arm, tomatoes bigger than her fist. The harvest was more than she could hold in her apron. As she walked back to the house, Christian spotted her. Although he stood several yards away, she sensed his surprise at finding her in the gardens and then scented his desire mingling with the fresh earthy air.

He approached the small gate. “That’s quite a harvest.”

“I was going to make a salad. Did you plant all of that?”

He nodded and stepped into her path. She held the corners of her apron out, the material sagging under the weight of so much food. Bending forward, he pinched her chin and kissed her. “You look beautiful.”

The compliment burrowed deep in her heart and she smiled. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I should wear this bonnet or the black one—”

“White is proper for mated females. You look perfect.”

No one had ever used words like perfect to describe her, but Christian spoke and thought that word a lot. “I tried.”

“It shows.” He glanced down at her harvest. “Is this for supper?”

“Yes. There’s plenty if you want some.”

His eyes darkened. “I want you.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks warmed as her smile pinched tight. “Now?”

He nodded, leading her into the house. When she reached the kitchen, he unloaded the produce from her apron, setting it on the table then took her hand, towing her into the den.

“Here.” He sat in his chair and loosened his pants. “I want you on my lap.”

Her body instantly responded to his request and she bit her lip, glancing at the windows to make sure no one would be able to see in. “Okay.” Sliding off her undergarments, she kicked them aside and gathered her skirt at her knees.

He helped her climb onto his lap, fitting her legs outside of his as he gripped his shaft, stroking slowly. “Lift up.”

She did as he asked, bunching her skirt at her waist and leaning forward. The engorged tip of his thick cock glided through her arousal and she gasped as he pressed her down.

“You’re in control, pintura.”

She looked up at him, surprised he would say such a thing. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to take your pleasure.”

A shy smile crossed her lips as she rocked slowly. “Like this?”

“However you want.”

He typically took the lead so she wasn’t sure what to do. Gathering her skirt, she reached between her legs and rubbed her fingers over her clit , riding him slowly and moaning softly as she tried to find a rhythm that worked. He studied her, his chest expanding with each heavy breath and his pleasure rolling into her in waves. But it wasn’t enough.