Make Me

by Sierra Dafoe

  Dear God, he was going to do it. He was going to make her come just by rubbing her breasts.

  Cupping them both in his broad, sturdy hands, Adrian squeezed them as his thumbs worked over the tips, rolling them, pinching them against his forefingers. Panting, Larissa hung powerless in his grip, feeling the fire inside her roar upward as he increased the pressure, kneading them ruthlessly.

  It was so easy to imagine his mouth upon them, sucking, licking, tormenting as he thrust inside her. God! She wanted him. She wanted him so badly. She wanted him to touch her, taste her, take her…

  The tension building between her thighs was like an inferno, blinding in its intensity. She could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing but his fingers ceaselessly tugging her nipples, sending the need in her higher and higher…

  With a sharp, yearning cry, she felt the tension snap, ecstasy flooding through her like a breaking wave, filling her veins with hot, pulsing, honey-gold light. Trembling, she reached out blindly, clinging to the strength of his wide, solid shoulders as rapture washed through her again and again.

  Slowly, she came back to awareness of external things and found herself cradled close against his chest. Her head lolled laxly against his shoulder, and it was only his hands firmly cupping her ass that kept her upright—without his hold on her, she would simply have crumpled to the floor. His cock was straining against her belly, pulsating under the cloth of his pants.

  Where had he learned such incredible control? His hunger was as acute as hers—it showed in the throb of his pulse in his throat, in the rigid clench of his hands on her ass—and yet he held it in check with a resoluteness that seemed almost superhuman.

  What would it be like, she wondered faintly, to make this man lose his self-restraint? A wild, wanton lust poured through her as she pictured it, his cock pounding into her, his hands pinning her down…

  Smiling mischievously to herself, Larissa realized she knew just how to reduce the stern, self-controlled Adrian Dane to absolute savagery.

  If she dared. She shuddered nervously as she remembered his fierce, predatory smile. She knew what happened to girls who teased tigers.

  They got eaten.

  And that thought made her knees give way altogether.

  Bonelessly, she slid between his thighs, crumpling in a heap to the floor. He grinned down at her, his expression far too smug. It made it easier to ignore his proffered hand, to yank herself away, scowling fiercely, as he tried to help her up.

  “Well congratulations, Mr. Dane. I hope you’ve had your fun.”

  With all the dignity she could muster considering she was dressed in nothing but a thong, heels and garter belt, she scrambled to her feet and snatched up her skirt and ruined blouse. He stared at her, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Home.” Head held high even as she tottered while tugging her skirt on, she kept her words cold, measured, dispassionate. “I’m not just some two-bit tumble, Mr. Dane, and I’m very sorry if I gave you that impression.”

  “Not some two-bit… Is that what you presume I think of you?”

  “Of course. What else would you think? After all, I only met you this morning after you forced your way into my office. You’re very good at forcing things, aren’t you, Mr. Dane?”

  He stared at her in stark disbelief. With one last, haughty glare, she let the tattered blouse fall accusingly from her fingers. Grabbing her jacket, she turned for the door.

  For two terrifying heartbeats, Adrian didn’t move. Then he swore violently and came after her, catching up to her in two swift, long strides and whirling her around to face him.

  She had expected arousal, passion, even frenzy—but the one thing she’d never expected to see in his emerald-green eyes was anguish. His jaw was clenched, his black brows drawn fiercely together as he gazed down at her, his entire body tensed in an extremity of passion beyond anything she’d ever even imagined. “Are you trying,” he gritted out between his clenched teeth, “to drive me mad, Larissa?”

  She could see the battle for self-control going on behind his eyes. Why was it so important to him? Why didn’t he simply take what he wanted?

  But it was important—she was important. The possibility had never occurred to her, and yet his next words only confirmed it. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?” His voice was no more than a harsh whisper. “Do you know how long I’ve waited, Rissa?”

  The nickname shocked her to her very core. Nobody had ever called her that. Nobody but her father, whose death had been the deepest grief of her life.

  “Then take me,” she whispered. “Take me. Make me yours.”

  For a second he seized her to him, his hair tickling her cheek, his face buried against the curve of her neck. She could feel him quivering, every inch of him taut as a bowstring as he bent over her, his breath warm on her neck, his lips whispering against her skin…

  Then he pulled back abruptly, his gaze hard and mocking. “You have no idea what you’re asking for, Rissa.”

  Roughly, he thrust her down on a barstool, spreading her feet apart, forcing her thighs wide. Blood rushed to her head, and she heard him unzip his pants, kick off his shoes. His hands yanked her skirt down then tore at the ties of her thong, ripping it off her. Then the hard, swollen tip of his cock pressed between her slick inner folds, nudging her entrance.

  Even then, he didn’t simply plunge into her. Rocking his hips back and forth, he worked his cockhead in and out, penetrating her just slightly, teasing her until she moaned and arched her ass upward.

  “Now,” he commanded, his voice rough with desire, “tell me you want it, Rissa. Ask me to fuck you.”

  Oh, Jesus. His words made her writhe in lust—and embarrassment. It wasn’t enough for him to just take her. He was determined to dominate her in every way possible. She shifted slightly, feeling the soft cushion against her belly—and then he leaned over her, grabbing her hair, dragging her head up ’til she could see his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Naked, he towered over her, his shoulder muscles bulging as he pinioned her beneath him. Reflected in the mirror, his eyes burned a deep, dangerous green. “Say it, Rissa.”

  “Please…” She bit her lip, feeling tears start to her eyes. His thighs flexed between her own widespread ones, jabbing his cock just an inch into her yearning passage. Then he withdrew.

  “Please,” she whispered urgently, “please, Adrian, take me. I want you to fuck me.”

  “Good. Where?”

  “Everywhere. My ass, my cunt, my mouth—I want you to fuck me any way you want. Oh, please!”

  His eyes gleamed with approval. “You like that, don’t you? You like me to make you beg for it.”

  Unable to hide the tears in her eyes, she nodded, blushing. “Please, Adrian. Please take me now.” And then she shrieked in erotic rapture as he yanked her head back, pulling her to him with one fist in her hair and his other hand clamped like a vise on her hips as, with one commanding, punishing thrust, he rammed his cock inside her all the way to his balls.

  Immediately, ecstasy exploded inside her and she cried out, again and again, her moans rising higher as he pounded her cunt with an almost mindless ferocity. He roared as her passage spasmed around him, gripping him tightly as he slammed home. His shaft bucked inside her, pulsing as his orgasm burst from him, flooding her with his seed in hot, endless waves.

  His thighs quivered as he strained forward, filling her utterly, until at last the tension inside him reached some critical peak and snapped. Slumping forward across her back, he panted, his breath hoarse and ragged in her ear.

  After a long, long time, he carefully withdrew. Lifting her gently to her feet, he turned her toward him and kissed her—not at all as he had before. His hand trembled where it brushed her cheek, and there was something tender, almost reverent in the way his tongue probed her mouth, savoring her. “Oh, Rissa,” he breathed as he finally raised his head. Gathering her close, he held
her in his arms as if he intended to never let her go.

  * * * * *

  He’d known what she was doing, of course, when she’d spun away from him, threatening to leave. She’d been trying to goad him into losing control. And damn it all, he almost had.

  When he’d dragged her to him, he’d had every intention of burying his fangs in her throat. Even though he’d known she was simply provoking him, a sudden, awful terror that he might lose her had ripped through his heart, leaving him momentarily paralyzed. What had followed on that terror’s heels had been rage.

  It had taken every ounce of self-command he possessed not to sink his teeth into her, claim her right then.

  And if he had, Adrian wondered, could he have stopped?

  That sort of control had never worried him before. He’d always been able to limit his feedings, leaving his victims weak—but certainly not in danger of death. Corpses bred questions, and careless vampires usually ended up dead. If the centuries had taught him anything at all, they’d taught him that.

  But Larissa… Larissa was a rule unto herself.

  Even now, his entire body still throbbed with the force of his climax, a peak beyond anything he’d ever felt. Even the erotic rapture of feeding from a woman as he was fucking her, his fangs buried in her throat, his cock deep in her cunt, couldn’t begin to compare to the utter intoxication of making love to Larissa. Nothing in all his countless years of experience had even come close.

  And if he’d bitten her…

  A jolt of horror flowed through him. If he’d bitten her, she’d likely be dead right now.

  He could do anything to her. He could make her fuck him—any way he desired. He could drive her to heights of ecstasy she’d only dreamed of. He could sink his teeth into her, drain her life’s blood…

  But the one thing he couldn’t make her do was bite him back. And unless she drank his blood in return, Larissa would remain mortal.

  Obsessed with his conviction that Sang Rouge would bring him and his mate together, he’d thrown all his energies and vast resources into making the nightclub the perfect backdrop for bonding with his elusive soul mate. He’d never once stopped to consider how awkward explaining what he was to her might prove. He’d simply assumed that, just like the movies, they’d fall into each other’s arms and it would all magically work out.

  No fool like an immortal one, Adrian thought caustically. He’d been just as much a slave to wishful thinking as Tom Sawyer rhapsodizing over Becky Thatcher’s chewed gum.

  For the first time in his long existence, he found himself wishing he could go back, could become human again, just one more mortal male doomed to live and die. It would be worth it to spend that brief life with Larissa. It was impossible, of course. But the fear he’d felt when she’d turned away from him—even in play—haunted him.

  What if she couldn’t accept what he was?

  Somehow he knew, with a strange leaden certainty, that if she didn’t, he would be alone forever. There would never be another woman like her again, no matter how many centuries he searched.

  Closing his eyes, he breathed in the sweet, musky scent of her, feeling something close to panic tighten his throat. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t.

  But he couldn’t force her to choose him, either.

  There was no other way. He had to tell her who he was—what he was. He had to take that risk.

  Chapter Four

  “Rissa?”

  Larissa murmured a reply. Her arms were wrapped around Adrian’s neck, her head pillowed on his shoulder. She was half-asleep on her feet, her entire body relaxed in a languorous afterglow.

  No man had ever made her feel like this before—so safe, so protected, so cherished. His arms encircled her, clasping her to him, his bare chest warm and solid against her breasts. Soft black hairs were scattered across the swell of his pecs, and Larissa trailed one hand down over them, stroking them lightly.

  “Rissa, about this morning…”

  “Mm-hmmm?” Was he going to apologize for how he’d acted? How sweet. Though he really ought to, of course, after the way he’d behaved in her office.

  “Remember how I was in such a hurry to leave?”

  She was definitely in a mood to forgive him anything. And she was starting to be in a mood for more than just that. Nodding her head in answer, she nuzzled his chest, licking a line from his breastbone to his left nipple. It was small and dark, hardening under the touch of her tongue. Unable to resist, Larissa closed her lips around it, tugging slightly. Adrian’s chest rose under her cheek as he sucked in a quick, surprised breath.

  “Rissa, I’m trying to tell you something.”

  Yes. He was. And it was really quite nice of him to want to apologize, but right now she was far more interested in exploring his body.

  His abs were flat, rippled with muscle, and below his navel more dark hair ran in a silken line down to his groin. Following it idly with her fingers, she curled her hand around his penis and felt it flex in her grip, hardening against her palm.

  “Rissa, listen.” Reaching down, he grabbed her hand, forcing it away from his cock.

  Something in his tone sent a trickle of apprehension through her post-coital haze.

  Oh God. This is where he tells me he’s married. Or gay. Or simply, it’s been nice, but I think you ought to go now.

  Larissa felt a bone-deep panic creep through her, twisting her stomach into knots. She couldn’t lose him. She couldn’t. No other man had ever made her feel this way. No man had ever reached deep inside her and found her passion. He started to speak, but before he could, she slid her arms around his neck again and plunged her tongue into his mouth.

  Almost instantly, she felt him respond. His lips pressed against hers as his tongue delved deep. Between their bodies, his cock lengthened further. Finally, Adrian came up for air.

  “Damn it, woman, you’re not making this easy.” His voice was the low, rumbling growl of a tiger, but she could sense his want of resolve. The man who had mastered her, making her obey him, was gone for the moment. Taking advantage of his diffidence, Larissa glanced up at him, smiling impishly.

  “Of course not. I’m trying to make it hard.”

  With that, she sank to her knees and wrapped her lips around his half-hard cock, determined to end any possibility of conversation. Whatever that strange, reluctant tone had portended, she knew instinctively she didn’t want to hear it.

  Swirling her tongue over his cock’s velvety head, she reveled in the feel of it, exploring the smooth, curving glans, the swollen rim, the sweet little slit at the very tip. His shaft flexed under her stroking fingers and, pressing her head forward, she took it deep into her mouth. Adrian moaned above her, and Larissa felt a small wave of triumph. He would want her, damn it—by the time she was done he would want her so badly he couldn’t help himself.

  His hands stroked her shoulders and toyed through her hair. But she wanted more than that—she wanted him to fuck her. Fuck her with the same ruthless abandon he had earlier. Lapping eagerly, she tormented his cock, alternately plunging her head forward and drawing back to dart her tongue over his shaft.

  Slowly, she felt the tension building in his body. His caresses grew firmer. Then his hands clenched on her shoulders. Purposefully, she pulled all the way back—and was rewarded as he grabbed her hair and yanked her head to him, his hips thrusting as he forced his cock deep into her mouth.

  Oh God, Adrian, you taste so good. She sucked hungrily, feeling her own desire mount as his hips pistoned steadily. Larissa moaned, and his cock flexed against the roof of her mouth, responding to her voice’s vibration. His breathing grew deeper, harsher, and his cock, already so thick it stretched her jaw wide, hardened further until it was like iron pounding between her lips.

  His strokes grew faster, more frantic, and Larissa slid her hands to his balls. They were heavy, so swollen with come they were almost rigid, hard as stones inside their protective sac. She fondled them carefully, squeezing just a bi
t as she tilted her head back and gazed up at Adrian.

  His face was slack with arousal, his emerald eyes clouded with lust as he watched his cock gliding in and out of her mouth. The sight of his forearms, the muscles bunching and flexing as he tugged her head forward and back, almost made her reach her climax right there. She arched her back farther, remembering how he’d ridden her, spreading her thighs wide and tilting her ass in the air as he pounded into her, fucking her furiously.

  As if reading her thoughts, Adrian groaned. As his restraint crumbled, he buried his fists in her hair, holding her in a vise-like grip as he rammed his cock deep into her throat. It ached for a moment—but even the ache was part of what she’d always dreamed of, what she’d secretly wanted and never received. She whimpered in delight as he hammered into her, his cock bruising her lips, his hips working desperately. His thighs flexed under her palms as he stroked even faster, caught in the tidal wave building inside him.

  Larissa’s world contracted to intimate sensations—the silken steel of his shaft, the salty tang of his juices, the ragged sounds of her own frantic breaths in her ears. She wanted it to go on forever, and at the same time wanted him to come right now, wanted him to fill her mouth with his come, shoot his juices into her as he hammered and thrust, wanted to give him a release so deep and so powerful that he couldn’t—he wouldn’t—ever let her go.

  His groans became gasps. His cock throbbed in her throat. His balls were so distended they felt hard as marble against her stroking fingers. He was going to come for her, he was going to come in her mouth…

  She cried out in anguish as he yanked his shaft from her lips, leaving her gasping and yearning and terrified she’d lost him. Lost him before she even knew what she’d found.

  He hauled her to her feet and she stood there, shaking. His nostrils flared. His eyes burned like gemstones. He looked ready to shred the flesh from her bones.