His mouth crooked into a smile. “A damn shame, Charlie. We’ll have to rectify that.” The warmth of his fingers settled on her waist. “You want to take a trip? Because this warehouse has a few too many folk living in it, and I’ve got a big bed that’ll fit nicely out in the middle of nowhere.”
She had to swallow to moisten her tongue. “That sounds really, really good.”
He lifted her against his chest, strode immediately for the door. “It sure as hell does. And I reckon we can play poker on it or I can teach you to hog-tie a calf—”
Her laugh almost choked her; he was moving so quickly the hallway was passing in a blur. “Fuck you, Drifter.”
“You just keep calling me that until we’re on that bed, and don’t lay your hands on me, or else we’ll be falling out of the sky.”
Her head swam as he launched them into the air, and she held on tight, her fingers linking together around his neck. The wind burned past her cheeks, whipped her hair. “Have you ever…while flying?”
“Sure I have, Charlie. And damn near broke in half when we hit a tower.” His heated gaze dropped to hers for an instant before he looked ahead again. “Any man who attends to air currents more than he attends to his woman ought to just tuck it in and fly on home.”
She smiled and nipped softly at his throat. “I’ll attend to you, too. And I should probably practice, so that my fangs won’t poke anything sensitive.”
“My sensitive bits wouldn’t last long enough for you to get any learning in. So you can do that after I’ve been inside you ten, maybe fifty times.”
He was going too fast to keep chatting, and she watched the landscape beneath them change as the minutes rolled by: the houses farther apart, then only sparse vegetation, scrub, and flat, jutting stones.
His voice was as rough as the terrain. “Will you give me your clothes, Charlie? I’d sure hate to rip anything while getting you out of them.”
A tremor shook through her. This apparently wasn’t going to be a gentle undressing, a leisurely exploration. “Yes.”
Her clothing vanished. He wasn’t flying so quickly now, and they were losing altitude; the wind caressed her skin, brushing and teasing.
And despite his arms beneath her legs and back, her body against his chest, Ethan still wasn’t touching her.
The bed appeared below them, huge and white. Her stomach dropped as Ethan swooped, then pulled up to land beside it. He set her on the edge, and his jacket disappeared.
“Wait!” She scrambled up to her knees, her hands moving to his collar. He froze. “I want to take them off.”
Except for his slow nod, Ethan was absolutely still. “I’ll be happy to oblige.”
She pushed the suspenders over his shoulders, let them fall alongside his thighs. After another second, his shirt fluttered to the ground, and she paused, sat back to look.
“Jesus, Ethan,” she breathed. “You should just walk around like this all the time.”
Ethan cleared his throat. “I was thinking something along the same lines about you, Miss Charlie.”
She glanced up in disbelief, but his face confirmed what his voice had suggested: a light flush stained his cheekbones.
“I’m awful modest,” he said softly. “But I sure am grateful that the look of me pleases you so much.”
“Pleases me?” She shook her head. “I’ve imagined you naked a million times since I saw you in the kitchen without your shirt. But you still knock me loopy.” A tug on his suspenders had his hips swaying toward her. “And I’ve never thought these looked good on anyone, but on you, they are the sexiest things I have ever seen.”
“Then I reckon I’ll keep them on a bit longer.” He placed his hands on the bed, his gaze holding hers. She slid back, and he followed her, stalking slowly across the mattress on his hands and knees—his suspenders dangling and his trousers on, but his feet bare now. “And I’d be mighty appreciative if you wouldn’t put your hands on me until I’m in you deep, and you just can’t stand me working at you anymore. Because once you touch me, I figure it’ll be over.”
Desire licked beneath her womb, heavy and moist. “Okay,” she whispered.
“Now, you’ve got another choice to make, Charlie.”
“What choice?” She’d stopped in the middle of the bed, but Ethan kept coming.
“Whether it’ll be my hands first, or my mouth,” he said.
Oh, Lord. She dropped back on her elbows as he moved over her and planted his hands beside her shoulders, his knees outside hers.
But Ethan didn’t lower his weight; he just held himself braced above her. The desert air was cold, arid; she drew it in hard and fast, her excitement closing her throat, leaving her unable to speak.
His head bent toward hers. “My mouth,” he repeated softly and caught her lips in a fiery kiss. Her fingers clenched in the soft mattress padding, and her feet slid across its smooth surface. “Or my hands?”
He pushed his thumb past her lips, ran the rough pad beneath the tip of her left fang.
It might as well have been a brush over her clitoris, a lick to her nipples. Her hips lifted; a needy moan rasped from her throat.
But any sound louder than that was beyond her. Frustration only made it worse. She lifted her hands to cup his face, her brows drawing together with her anxiety. “Both,” she forced out, and it wasn’t much more than a husky vibration of air.
He studied her for a long second, and his thumb traced a warm, wet trail over her scar. “Why don’t you show me what you want, Miss Charlie? I’ll give it to you, slow and easy. But you’ve got to think it hard.”
What she wanted…? Oh, Jesus. Familiar images flipped through her mind: her legs wrapping around his big body. His gentle touch on her skin. Her panties ripping. Her soft sighs of pleasure. Her hands bound with leather, with metal. Her nipples abraded by his teeth, the rough hair of his chest. Her nails digging into his back. A nightgown pushed up over her hip, her sex exposed. Panting and crying as he took his time, took too much time. Against a wall. A table. Tied to a bed. Bent over on her apartment balcony. His tongue on her clit, his fingers sliding—
“Charlie,” he groaned, his eyes closing. “Slow and easy.”
Ethan kissing her.
His need flared between them, and he lowered his head again to murmur against her lips, “Just like that, Miss Charlie.”
And it was hotter, wetter than she’d imagined, and she matched each erotic stroke of his tongue.
His hands on her breasts.
But the pale image shattered against the reality of his palms cupping their soft weight. Her nipples puckered beneath his fingers. Tight and aching—not from cold, but heat.
She wanted his mouth.
Ethan leisurely made his way down, tasting and licking her chin, her throat. Her hands smoothed over his shoulders.
He caught her wrists, pushed them over her head at the same moment his lips captured her nipple. His tongue seared her flesh. She cried out, a thin, ragged exhalation. His teeth scraped gently, and he began suckling the taut peak.
She needed more.
Needed Ethan, finding her slick and ready with his fingers, his mouth.
His groan rumbled across her skin, and he raised his head, shifted up until his face was just above hers again. “All right, Miss Charlie,” he said hoarsely. His fingers tightened around her wrists; his opposite palm slid down the sensitive curve of her belly. “I figure you’ll want to come once or twice before I’m done. You can do that with a couple drops of your blood. It’ll be when you choose, and how you choose it.”
She nodded and squirmed, tried to lift her hips, to force his touch where she wanted it to go. Desire held her tight, but his easy heat had softened her frustration…and her throat.
Not much, but enough to whisper his name.
“That’s awful good to hear,” he said, and dropped a rough kiss to her lips. Then another, deeper, before tearing his mouth from hers. “I’m on the edge, about to ride you hard, and that’s from
barely touching you. So if I’m going to keep my britches on a bit longer, we got to do something about you forgetting your hands.”
His mention made her realize her fingers were rubbing against each other; she stilled them, but they immediately itched to be moving again. “They like to be busy.”
And they liked touching him even more.
“I know it, Charlie. I reckon you just need a little reminder, and after those images you sent me, I have one in mind.” His amber gaze searched hers. Metal clinked beside her. “But not if the reality of it spooks you. I want to make this real good for you.”
She turned her head, saw the slim cuffs beyond the spread of her hair. Her heart raced. Fear and pain had always threatened this fantasy—the memory of real cuffs, and the devastation of losing her voice. But the arousal had always been sharper in contrast, as if heightened by that threat and the triumph of not succumbing to it.
And this time, it would be with Ethan.
She met his eyes again. “There’s nothing to tie them to.” No headboard, no posts—just an endless sea of a mattress.
“I ain’t thinking of tying you down,” Ethan said, then grinned. “Not today, leastwise. I figure if you associate that jangling sound with not touching me, use it as a reminder, we’ll be all right. And when you’re ready to get rid of them, you tell me and I’ll unlock them right quick.”
“Okay.” Excitement was tightening her voice again. The metal was cold, cooler even than her skin. Ethan lingered over it, watching her face as the bracelets clicked home.
His thumb ran along her wrist. “I aim to be attending to you a good while. If you need anything, or you get lonely up here, you just let me know.”
She grabbed as much of the soft mattress top as she could and held on. “I think I’ll be okay.”
Pushing Ethan onto his back, running her hands over his shoulders, kissing her way down the muscular ridges of his abdomen. Unbuttoning his trousers, lowering her mouth…
She let the image fade.
With a groan, Ethan said, “That was awful mean, Miss Charlie.”
“So is not letting me touch you.” She panted as his palm slid low on her belly, his fingers spreading wide. She lay between his knees, his body so big above her, his breath so warm on her lips.
His gaze never moved from her face as he lightly dipped in.
She shuddered; her thighs trapped his hand.
Ethan stilled. “You closed up real quick there. You all right?”
“Yes.” She moved against his palm, gasping. “It’s just too good.”
His lids lowered fractionally. “Are you thinking of denying yourself this, then?”
Deny herself Ethan like she would fried foods, alcohol? Those things, when she had too much or couldn’t control her need for them, might hurt her.
Ethan never would.
“No.” Her reply trembled from her, and she forced herself to relax. Hard to do, when the shape of his fingers felt like a brand against her flesh. “It was just habit. And it’s so hot,” she said breathlessly.
“And you’re awful wet, Charlie.” His voice was gruff. His long middle finger gently cajoled her soft folds apart, circling her entrance before drawing a path of fire up to her clitoris.
The handcuffs clinked; she grabbed the mattress again. She turned her cheek to the side, tried to keep her hips still.
“You want to move, you want to moan or kick, you go right on ahead. Ain’t no one to hear you but me.” Ethan’s teeth tugged at her earlobe before he licked the side of her jaw. “And I’d sure like to hear you sing for me, Charlie.”
Was that what she was doing? His lips covered hers as his thumb repeatedly strummed her clit, as she arched and cried into his mouth. As he took up a slow rhythm with his fingers, teasing from her each rattling breath, the uncontrollable roll of her hips.
It almost felt like it, the swell of emotion in her throat and lungs, releasing it to Ethan’s murmurs of appreciation—and his gaze, urging her on.
And it came easy, too—the soft bite against her tongue. She didn’t taste the blood, but it roared through her, a crescendo throwing her body high. Ethan caught her with his mouth and his hands, holding her up against him until she sagged to the bed.
He dragged his lips from hers, his chest heaving. His palms smoothed up over her trembling stomach, her skin glistening from his heat. Her fingers were buried in the hair at the nape of his neck, and metal jingled as he slipped from under the loop of her arms, moved down.
His thumbs parted her, and his throat worked as he looked. “Oh, Miss Charlie. What you showed me ain’t half as pretty as you really are.”
No. And she couldn’t have imagined how his pleasure could feed hers. He closed his mouth over her sensitive flesh, but it was his gratified moan that ripped an echo from her throat.
Her teeth locked together, but a part of her screamed. Silently cried for him to continue tasting her as if he’d die without it. To keep looking at her as if she was a necessity. To touch and lick and thrust as if she was the key to gaining something he wanted, needed.
If he needed her for this, it might be enough.
It was almost more than she could stand. Her body was singing again, rising and falling with the leisurely pace of his feast, the drumming of her blood. She kicked and moaned, and he held her, his tongue swirling, flicking, and it was hurting now, strung too tight, pitched too high.
“Ethan.” She was twisting, panting. “I need to…but not without you.”
Ethan fucking her.
It didn’t matter how, only that he was inside her. But though he stiffened when she hit him with image after image, he didn’t relent, but pushed her higher, licking, sucking, his fingers sinking into her, big and hot.
Desperate, she tugged on his hair. Metal clinked. Again, as she pulled harder. “Ah, God, Ethan—please. Please, please.”
She almost sobbed when his mouth released her. He kissed her nipples as he rose over her, then her throat.
“You ready then?”
Never more. And his fingers were still slick and full inside her, so he must have known. “Yes. Yes, yes—”
Ethan swallowed the last yes. His hands left a moist trail from her sex to her inner thighs; he pushed them wide. Cold air teased her exposed flesh, then heat as he settled against her, the thickness of his cock nestled between her folds.
Her fingers scrabbled on the mattress over her head. His left hand smelled of her when he brought it up, bunching it in her hair.
He rocked forward, not entering her; his hard length gathered moisture, glided over her clit. Again.
Again.
She went mad with it, frantically jerking her hips toward him, whimpering with need.
Until, finally, he closed his eyes and breached her entrance with burning pressure. “Easy, Charlie,” he whispered, but his voice was as tormented as the sounds she was making. She tried to pull him in hard and fast, but he went slow. So slow.
But not easy. She was adjusting to him, so wet he slid as if she were oiled, but tension clamped her muscles tight around him. Soothing noises came from his throat, but they roughened when she lifted her knees, tilting her hips to take him at a new angle.
He dropped his forehead to hers with a heavy groan. “God Almighty, Charlie. Just stay real still so I don’t hurt you.”
“I can’t. You aren’t. Please.” She couldn’t control her body, her tongue. “I need it, need you—”
He shoved deep, muffling his shout behind clenched teeth. Her back bowed. Her eyes opened wide; her body stretched to envelop and caress every inch.
Hard, thick—and so hot. Her awareness narrowed down to the heat of his hand on her thigh, the heat of his mouth against her temple, the heat of his cock buried within her.
Ethan gathered himself, rose up to look at her. He untangled his hand from her hair, drew her cuffed wrists over her head. “I’m plumb losing my mind. You all right?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
“All right then.” His skin was taut over his cheekbones, his amber eyes glowing. “Now, Charlie, you got a choice. If you’re like this—” He pushed her knees down. “I’ll be able to work you just right.”
He withdrew and then drove back in with short strokes, stopping only when he was seated firmly, grinding against the aching bud of her clitoris.
Her mind was going. She turned her cheek against the mattress; harsh, whistling noises broke from her throat—and she didn’t care, only wanted him to do it again.
His body shook. He let go of her hands, caught her behind her knees. “Or like this, Charlie.” He pushed her legs up toward her chest, then braced his hands against the bed, her knees over his elbows. Immediately he sank farther into her, tighter, hotter. The pressure was almost unbearable; she closed her eyes, shut out everything but the feel of him. “I’ll be deeper, but you won’t be able to move much, and I won’t be able to rub up against your sweet little—”
“Deep,” she cried. “Deep deep deep.”
“All right. So we’ve got it just how you like it, then.” His breathing was ragged. “Open your mouth, Charlie. I aim to kiss you all the way through this.”
She met his eyes, parted her lips, and he thrust with his body, his tongue. Her scream locked in her throat, and Ethan inhaled the air that escaped as he pushed into her again. Her toes curled, her fingers gripping his hair as hard as she could, hanging on to him.
But she was losing herself. Losing her mind, her control, to the frantic burn inside her. She had no way to move, to give—only to take. And she took him again and again, until she was full, overflowing with the frenzied pleasure of his possession, but she couldn’t release it.
Blood—she needed blood. But she couldn’t bite herself, couldn’t turn away from the penetration of his tongue.
Ethan increased his pace, a rondo rush toward the finish. Her nails dug into his nape, and he ate each moan, each pleading cry.
Until he stopped. He lifted his mouth from hers but the intensity of his gaze held her frozen, prevented her from closing her teeth on her tongue.
“You have a choice.” His voice was low, and he slid into her again. “But I want you to choose me. Take the blood from me.”
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