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Chapter 6

As wet and ready as I was, a bolt of sweet pain still shot through me—but it was a good hurt, so good, and I gasped, trying at once to lift myself slightly to lessen the reaming and to steel myself for more. My moans blended with his short, growling cry, almost like the ones he emitted during his most violent workouts.

We grew still, fused and trembling, knowing that if either of us moved, we would climax immediately. My hands, resting on his shoulders, crept around his neck, then my arms, and I pressed into his warmth, my breasts pushing softly against his chest, my parted lips seeking the fragrant skin of his throat. I wanted to kiss every muscular, dangerous inch of him, to kiss and lick and taste, to make him feel the way he’d been making me feel with his fingers and lips and tongue. But this was not the time, and I knew that, before I could begin to make love to him, he would be overcome and, out of control, he would be the one doing the tasting. I craved that moment, but I also wanted to make this one last as long as possible, so I settled for planting soft, open-mouthed kisses around his lips and on his neck and shoulders.

He shuddered. “So sssweet...” His voice was almost unrecognizably deep, a rumbling sigh.

My answer was a kiss on his open lips, and I could feel the hard length of the fangs behind them. I lightened the pressure and licked softly at the corners of his mouth, then, tentatively, at the points of his fangs. My hands moved to his hair, running its silky length through my fingers, caressing the back of his neck, the soft down on his cheeks. My heart was bursting with love, my body bursting with lust, and I whimpered into his mouth and moved on him, unable to remain still a moment longer.

He gasped a breath and let it out as a moan, crushing me to him, bearing me down on him until I cried out in pain and ecstasy. I let go of him and he let me lean back, dizzy with the sensations coursing through me and the swirling heavens above. He held me, strong hands hot on my back, then suddenly lowered me to the floor and stretched atop me, still buried deep within. He let me take more of his weight than usual, pressing me into the cool boards, and wrapped his arms around me, fusing us even more tightly together. I could hardly move, and the delicious idea of being trapped and held down and taken in a frenzy of passion blanked my mind to everything else. I tightened my legs around him, writhed against him as best I could, tried to undulate my hips, and felt the small muscles inside me clasping him harder, caressing him.

He was propped on his elbows, his forearms beneath my shoulders, his hands buried in my hair, cradling my head. I felt his fingers slide around my neck, stopping on pulse points, and I knew he could sense where the blood rushed through me, where every vein and artery throbbed beneath my skin. I knew the demon would demand an artery. I knew that Aloysius would allow him only a vein, and not even a major one...unless he lost the battle of wills. I was betting my life on my husband’s ability to overpower the demon’s death lust, and I felt safe. Such is his force of will, his strength, and I love him for it.

“You...are mine.” His breath was hot in my ear, his voice now a soft, growling moan, each exhalation a husky pant. “You belong...to me.”

“Y—yes,” I breathed, barely able to draw enough breath to expel the single syllable.

“...kill...the man who...touchesss you...” He raised his head and his eyes blazed into mine. “Any man who...looksss at you...”

I could not speak. His eyes were glowing silver and red through the white curtain of his wild hair, and his lips had pulled back enough to bare his fangs. The demon was speaking. Aloysius was losing control, overcome with lust for me, and the sight of him in that state sent waves of unfocused orgasm radiating through me. I sobbed in ecstasy, still wanting more, trying again to move against him, and he finally gave in and let himself go, raising his hips until he was completely free of me, then thrusting into me so hard I felt my back slide a little on the smooth boards. He pumped hard enough to hurt, angling himself higher to better massage my clitoris with each movement, whispering in pants and groans.

“...ssso...tight...hot...yeah...yeah...”

I could only answer with a joyful cry as the sweet throbbing increased to unbearable and kept increasing until bolts of quaking, rending pleasure shot through me, now localized and focused in my sex, which felt like a pool of hot, turbulent fluid, and I felt his explosion, felt his fluids pumping into mine, heard the howl of the demon, looked up into a beautiful blazing visage of mad passion, saw his head dart toward me, felt his keen fangs penetrate my throat, and came again, screaming, because it was too much, it was overload, it had become wonderfully painful and painfully wonderful and I bucked beneath him as he sucked at the punctures in another kind of orgasm, moaning and growling and lapping, and I turned my head to give him better access, wanting to give him everything, needing to give it...and I finally felt his muscles bunch as he steeled himself to stop...felt his fangs slip from my flesh...heard his deep inhalation and the shaky exhale that followed. But I knew it wasn’t over.

The night was young, and the demon was loose, and would focus its lusts on what Aloysius wanted. Aloysius wanted me.

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