Blood Red. Sharon Page

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      A few hairs tickled her lips as she covered his dusky nipple with her mouth. She sucked, drawing the peak between her lips. It plumped out against her tongue.

      She reached down, closed her hand around his wrist…

      No, not his wrist, she realized. The thick, hard girth she held was his erect cock.

      Please, stroke me…

      “Show me,” Althea whispered, “Teach me.”

      Yannick covered her hand with his, led her hand up and down the long, long shaft. Down to the thick curls. Up to the satiny, straining, wet head. Their hands were soon slick and sticky, working together.

      His breathing came shallow, quick, and harder, until he lowered his head to the pillow beside hers and panted against her ear.

      Althea moved her hands faster.

      Yes, he hissed. Jerk me like that. Fuck me with your hand, angel. God, God, God, I’m going to explode!

      His coarse, harsh words excited her, and she gripped him tight, rubbed him hard.

      His hips jolted forward, his body bucked. His tongue slid into her ear, flicking wildly, as he grunted and groaned. His cock grew huge in her hand and she almost felt something rushing through—

      His hot fluid shot out, spilling over her belly. He collapsed, pressing his hips tight, his weight supported on his muscular arms. With his head bowed, he took deep, ragged breaths.

      Tentatively, Althea released his cock. She touched his face, stroked his cheek. Yannick lifted his head, gave an exhausted smile, and kissed her hand.

      Watching him reach his pleasure had been so beautiful. “Do you…do you wish to do that again?”

      He laughed. “I’m not as fortunate as you, my sweet. Only one for me.”

      He caught her in the sweetest kiss. His fangs brushed her lip but she wasn’t afraid. Strangely, Althea found the sight of his fangs arousing now, not terrifying. Tenderness radiated from his eyes. She sensed it even though they shone like silvery-blue mirrors.

      She drew back and dropped her gaze. Out of shyness? Out of fear? Suddenly, she just couldn’t look into his eyes.

      Keeping her eyes shut, Althea felt the bed move. He’d left it. Even though she kept still and quiet, she couldn’t hear him move about her room. Had he left her alone?

      Softness brushed her tummy. A cloth. With it, Yannick cleaned her gently. After, he placed a kiss on her cooling skin and smoothed out her crumpled nightdress. He lifted her as though she weighed nothing and arranged her gown around her, covering her hips, her still-tingly cunny, her legs.

      It’s almost dawn, love. I have to leave you.

      “I know.” With her eyes closed, she murmured it sleepily, drifting.

      And you need to rest.

      Rest, yes, because today they would open the crypt.

      Althea prayed he really couldn’t read her mind. Prayed he didn’t know her father planned to open the crypt anyway. Was Father wrong to do it? Was she wrong not to tell Yannick?

      All sorts of thoughts jumbled in her suddenly tired, confused head.

      Yannick. How strange that she thought of him by his Christian name. Only hours before he had been, in her mind, a lofty earl or an evil vampire. A stranger but not a stranger. And now he had tasted her in places she had never even dared touch.

      If she slept, what would she dream? About Yannick and the other man again?

      That snapped her wide awake. She opened her eyes.

      He was leaning over her, smiling down at her as he smoothed her hair. With the other hand, he cupped her waist, letting his thumb stroke the underside of her breast “Before you go,” she whispered, “Can you tell me what happened to you and your brother? Why you were imprisoned and how it happened?”

      The second brother of the Demon Twins. Was he the other man from her dreams? Yannick’s brother?

      His brow lifted in surprise but she sensed him shut off other emotions from her. “Your father never explained our story?”

      “No.”

      He sat up, lifting his hands from her. Althea felt bereft to have his heat leave. She wanted to reach out and touch him one more time—put her hand on his bare back, or caress his big, naked shoulder, but stopped herself.

      I will come to you tomorrow night, Althea, and tell you everything. He stood up from the bed, standing in the moonlight, which seemed more ethereal now, fainter and less distinct.

      Tomorrow night might be too late.

      But he bowed and stepped back into the gloom, which was gray, not black, as dawn touched the sky.

      Tomorrow. Let me explain all tomorrow. But do not let your father open the crypt.

      Guilt burned through her and she looked down. She would have to help her father. It was what she had always done.

      And she shouldn’t trust Yannick so easily. Shouldn’t let seduction convince her to throw aside all she had learned. Over a decade, she had seen what vampires were.

      He is unlike any other vampire, her inner voice whispered. He controlled his bloodlust with you. He saved your father. He is different.

      No. She couldn’t fall under a vampire’s erotic spell.

      Althea, my love.

      She stilled as his deep, beautiful voice called to her. Was this what the dreams meant? Love? She couldn’t fall in love with him. She couldn’t.

      And what about the last dream? She couldn’t love two vampires!

      Althea looked up to find Yannick watching her. His brows were drawn together, his mouth turned down at the corners.

      “I will wait for you tomorrow,” she promised. “We won’t open the crypt.”

      His lips lifted. Before she could blink, he vanished. She felt the faintest stirring of the air. The beat of wings. They fluttered over her hand like a caress—as though he was bestowing one last chivalrous kiss.

      And then she was alone.

      Althea crossed to the open window, shivering as the damp breeze flitted over her naked body. The sky had lightened. Deep purple splashed over the black, glowing with the soft sheen that promised daybreak.

      Dawn was so close.

      She prayed Yannick found safety.

      Yannick closed the lid, crossed his arms over his chest. Her taste lingered on his lips. Her rich scent was on his face, on his fingers, on his slumbering cock.

      What did the dreams mean? He had never dreamed about any other woman this way. And since becoming a vampire, he had never visited a woman СКАЧАТЬ