Page 74 of Vampire so Virtuous (Boston Vampires #1)

He could’ve closed the gap in a second, but he didn’t.

Instead, Antoine casually picked up one of the towels she’d ignored, and in a flash, it flew from his hand, landing back across the railing, now damp. Not a trace of water remained on his skin.

“Showoff,” she teased.

“Just efficiency, ma chérie. There are better ways to spend my time.”

Cally turned away, letting him follow at his pace, and walked into his bedroom. The bed was a vision of luxury: white silken sheets beneath a black duvet, which she tugged off, letting it catch the air and fall, crumpled, to the floor.

He paused in the doorway to the bathroom, watching her, and the hunger in his eyes made her thighs ache with her own need.

She climbed onto the bed, each move slow and deliberate, giving him a show of what he could have—what he would have. It wasn’t just his eyes that revealed his desire; there was tension in every muscle in his body, as if he was fighting to hold onto his control.

But he was still too far away.

She beckoned to him. “Come here.”

Antoine seemed almost hesitant, taking slow, measured steps into the room. His eyes roamed over her, flickering from pale blue to red before settling on lilac, otherworldly and almost ethereal. If that meant his control was slipping, all the better.

She thought he would join her, but instead, he stopped with his knees pressing against the side of the mattress. He raised a hand toward her, then let it fall.

“It is not too late for you to change your mind , ” he said, voice thick with something deeper than mere caution.

“Far too late,” she murmured, as she crawled toward him.

He didn’t move, only watching her as his eyes shifted again, darkening from lilac to deep purple, and she wondered what he would do when they turned fully red. She felt a strange mixture of power and vulnerability—his eyes held her in place, but she was the one driving this now.

Cally knelt on the edge of the bed, close enough for the warmth of his breath to brush across her damp skin.

She reached out, resting her palm on his chest, over his heart.

But he didn’t touch her, didn’t reach for her.

His muscles tensed, coiled with control, as if he didn’t truly believe he had any right to touch her.

She slid her hand up over his collarbone and around his neck, inching closer to him, her breasts brushing against his chest, and the heat between them grew sharper.

She wanted to kiss him, but the way they were positioned, his lips were just out of reach.

Instead, she nuzzled against the underside of his jaw, feeling the rough scrape of his stubbled chin against her skin as she pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the side of his neck.

And then, on a whim, because it felt right, she bit—hard enough to make him hiss. He didn’t pull away.

“ Ma chérie,” he breathed, his voice husky. “ Mon amour.”

The change in his endearment sent a jolt through her, a reminder of how much was still unspoken between them. But she stayed pressed against him, her mouth soft against his skin, fingers curling around his neck, holding him to her as he shuddered.

She slid her other hand down his chest, her fingers brushing lightly over his body until they reached where she knew he’d respond. Her touch was slow, deliberate, squeezing gently. She heard him catch his breath.

And finally, he touched her. His hands slid around her back, pulling her closer, as if encouraging her to bite harder, offering himself the way she had offered herself to him.

But she didn’t want to bite harder, nor did she have any desire to draw blood.

Instead, she licked softly at the imprint she’d left, and he shuddered again.

“I’ve marked you,” she whispered, though she knew the mark would fade in seconds. It didn’t matter. They both knew it was there, a symbol of something far deeper than merely a bite.

“You marked me when I first saw you,” he replied, voice soft but laden with meaning. “Even if I didn’t realize it.”

“You called me ‘ mon amour’ .”

“ Oui . It means—”

“I know what it means.” She pulled his head down, lifting her chin to meet his lips.

His fingers skimmed her cheek, sending another shiver through her as their lips met.

His kiss was gentle, but she ached for something fiercer.

She dug her fingers into his hair, tugging him closer.

“No more hesitation,” she murmured against his lips .

He straightened, exhaling heavily. “You are right. I am sorry. It is just… it has been a very long time.”

“So long as you haven’t forgotten how.”

He chuckled, but this time there was something darker behind it. His hand slid down her back, and then, with a sharp slap to her ass, he pulled her closer. “I think I remember the basics, and I recall promising to make you pay. Over and over.”

She shivered, her breath catching. “You did say that, didn’t you?”

Barely had she said the words before he’d bent and grasped her thighs with both hands, lifting her effortlessly. He lowered her to her back, her legs parted as he settled between them, and his eyes were lilac again, the corners of his mouth curling.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, his gaze full of admiration and something more primal. “So passionate, so strong, so utterly fearless. I can’t help but want to taste you.”

She knew he would, and braced herself for the sting of his fangs, and the rush of pleasure that would follow. “You can feed whenever you wish.”

His eyes flickered blue. “There is more than one way to taste you.”

It took a second for the meaning to sink in, then he placed his palms on her thighs, gently parting them before lowering between her legs.

She gasped at the first lick, then again as his tongue pressed inside her.

Her hips bucked, but he slid his arms beneath her legs and held her helpless, just as he wanted her.

She could do nothing but surrender herself to him, her mind swept away in the wave of sensation, until a whimper slipped from her lips.

Antoine released one trembling thigh to slide a finger inside her.

He proved he hadn’t forgotten a thing, unerringly finding that spot within her, curling his finger as he stroked in slow, deliberate movements.

Her body arched, fists clenched in the sheets, and she wasn’t prepared for the sting of his fangs piercing the soft, delicate skin of her thigh.

Pain and pleasure mingled as he fed from her, the pressure in her core building so rapidly that it erupted all at once, and she cried out, the world blurring into light and heat.

He licked at the bite he’d made, soothing it, and she knew he’d taken little of her blood, yet her body still thrummed with the pleasure he’d bestowed with tongue, touch, and teeth. She drew a ragged breath, trembling beneath him, unable to find words. Her breath escaped in a shuddering moan.

Just when she thought he had finished, his tongue found her again .

“Enough, please,” she gasped, breathless. “Too sensitive.”

“But you said no more hesitation.” He resumed his torment.

It began as soft, gentle licks, but soon grew into a relentless storm, driving her to unbelievable heights as his tongue played over her with a hint of his vampiric speed.

She cried out again, forced to endure as pleasure and pain collided—but pleasure won.

She fisted her hands in his hair, pulling him tight against her as he drove her into another crashing release, so overwhelming that her cries fell silent, her body shuddering beneath his mouth.

Antoine rested his forehead against her thigh, giving her time to catch her breath, before placing a kiss where he’d sunk his fangs and gently licking her skin.

“You sadist,” she breathed when she could. “There’s no doubt: you still are a monster.”

He chuckled. “Your monster.”

“I can’t move. Do I have to move?”

“I’m not done with you yet.”

He crawled up with his usual fluid grace, gathering her hands as he came, pinning them above her head, his grip gentle yet unyielding.

She was too limp and sated to resist, but even if she weren’t, his strength left her little room to fight—and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Instead, she lifted her chin, offering her lips, and he claimed his kiss.

She tasted herself on his tongue and moaned into his mouth, lifting her legs to open herself to him, rubbing her calves along his thighs.

His arousal brushed against her, both hard and soft, and she realized she wasn’t sated at all, but hungry for more. She bucked her hips against him, seeking him, but instead, he drew back—always so aggravating.

“I told you, mon amour , some things cannot be rushed.”

His lips nuzzled the side of her neck, and she knew what would follow. She longed to feel the sting of his fangs again, and the pleasure they brought.

But Cally wanted him to know that she wasn’t his docile prey. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

She turned her head into him, blocking his access to her neck, then squirmed beneath him as if trying to escape.

It made no sense to play at it, not when he was so much stronger and faster.

She threw everything she had against him, bucking and writhing, the illusion of resistance exciting her in a way she couldn’t deny.

His grip tightened on her wrists, his weight pinning her to the bed, preventing her struggles.

With one hand, he pressed her wrists to the sheet, the other trailing down her body to her breast. His thumb brushed over her stiff nipple, teasing it.

“Say ‘stop,’ otherwise I will think you are not so serious.”

Antoine had read her perfectly, and she had no intention of saying stop. Instead, she arched her back, pressing her breast into his palm. “I can’t fight you,” she said, closing her eyes. “You are too strong. And besides, I don’t want to.”

He released her then, freeing her hands, but she lay as she had before, eyes still closed, surrendering. Not just to him, but to the idea of him—as a man, as a vampire, as her bonded—recognition that he was what she wanted, a renewal of her acceptance.

And he’d called her ‘my love’.

“You are perfect,” he breathed, then lowered his head to take her other nipple between his lips.

“I’m yours,” she responded, as much to hear herself say it as to tell him.

Her hands traced over his shoulders, feeling the heat of his skin, the hardness of his muscles beneath, hearing his soft sighs at her touch. His hands were roaming too, one caressing her flank while the other palmed her breast, and his weight on her was an anchoring comfort.

“You’re always so warm,” she marveled, but her words faded into a gasp as he rocked his hips against hers. She clutched him to her, her feet pulling at the firm curve of his ass, trying to entice him into her. “Please, Antoine, no more teasing.”

He raised himself up on his hands, gazing down at her with such tenderness that it made her heart clench, and his eyes shifted from lilac to deep purple… then to red.

It was all the warning she had before he entered her, pulling a gasp from her lips.

Her back arched as she clutched at his shoulders.

He slid all the way inside with such delicious friction that they both shuddered.

Then he stilled, allowing her to adjust. But she didn’t want gentleness.

She rolled her hips, pulling him closer with her feet, and he responded, drawing back before pushing into her again.

Cally threaded her fingers into his hair, pulling his mouth down to hers, kissing him fiercely. She whimpered as he thrust again, drawing back with graceful control then driving into her welcoming body. Over and over… she realized she’d breathed the words into his mouth.

“Yes, mon amour . Tonight and every night.”

Her pleasure began to build again, her body so attuned by his touch, and it felt like they were merging, physically matching the supernatural bond they already had.

“Body and soul,” she whispered between kisses, and his response was a guttural sound, a growl of approval.

He collected her hands, pinning them to the sheet, and his head tilted to the side, lips nipping at the sensitive curve of her neck.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Just there.”

The sting of his fangs was exquisite, and the rush of pleasure that followed drove her into a release so powerful her vision fractured, light exploding behind clenched eyelids. It went on and on, each pull of her blood causing her body to clench around him even as he thrust into her.

“Harder,” she gasped, and it was all she could do to get the word out. A throaty, animalistic sound escaped him, vibrating against her skin, and he responded at once, surging into her with fierce urgency.

She clutched him desperately, using him as her tether, certain she would be lost in the storm of ecstasy if she didn’t. Wave after wave, she rode the peak of her pleasure, and then, at last, he tensed over her, swelled inside her, and erupted in his own release, flooding her with heat.

Tears slipped from her eyes, squeezed out through tightly clenched lids. Her heart raced, her body alive in a way she could never have imagined.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, unwilling to let him pull away, even as his body gradually unwound, relaxing over hers, his breath soft against her skin. He licked softly at her neck, soothing the bite he’d left as if it were something sacred.

She slid her hand into his hair, holding him to her, and her head rolled to the side as she offered herself. It wasn’t just about feeding, it was affirmation.

He kissed her neck beneath her ear and breathed, “ Je t’aime. ”

Her heart swelled, for she knew what that meant, too.