Chapter Twenty-One
Arguing with Beckham about it was pointless.
He would never see her point about his past, and she would never see his.
She would wait for him to tell her. She wished he could realize that she accepted him for exactly who he was.
She was already aware he had done terrible things before joining the rebellion. It wouldn’t change her mind about him.
They stayed at the rooftop garden until Reyna could no longer feel her fingers or toes. Then Beckham insisted he return her to her room.
“So,” she said, running her hands up the front of his shirt once they returned to her room, “do you have the rest of the night off?”
“A gentleman simply kisses his date good night on the first date.”
“It’s probably a good thing you aren’t a gentleman, then, isn’t it?”
“It seems to be your favorite quality about me.”
“Oh no, I like the brooding, silent, self-loathing the best.”
“Perfect match for your never-ending speech and vibrant optimism.”
“I’d say that I’m leaning more toward realism lately.”
She stripped out of the heavy jacket, gloves, scarf, hat, and thick socks, tossing them all haphazardly around her room.
She was halfway through pulling the giant sweater over her head when she felt Beckham’s hands on her waist. They slipped under the material of her black T-shirt and caressed her stomach.
She dropped the sweater to the ground, forgotten.
“Fuck,” he growled low.
“I missed you.”
“Every day you were gone, I was out of my mind.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
“I would have burned the city down to get to you.”
“I worried you wouldn’t.” She hated the squeak in her voice at the admission.
“It killed me not to be here when you got back. To not be here doing this.” He dropped his mouth onto hers, and the kiss seared through her. “Cover be damned. Visage be damned. I wanted you, and then when I finally had you, I fucked it up again.”
“Shhh,” she said, pressing a finger to his lips. “It doesn’t matter. You have me now.”
He relented, placing a kiss on her finger. Then, latching a hand around her wrist, he directed the pad of her finger into his mouth. His tongue caressed her and then gently nipped at her. He repeated this on each finger before turning her palm up and pressing a kiss into her wrist.
“Your heart rate has elevated, Little One.”
“Uh-huh,” she said desperately.
His nose connected with her wrist, and he dragged it up the length of her arm.
Her body tingled at each touch, shivers coursing through her body.
When he reached her shoulder, he tugged the material aside and his lips touched her skin, kissing across her collarbone to her neck.
She tilted her head for better access and felt as if she were about to float away.
The last time they were in this position, he bit her.
Her body was primed and waiting for that moment once again.
The kisses weren’t enough. She could feel the sharp edges of his fangs and tensed to prepare herself.
Her body thrummed—her heart rate ratcheted up and her breathing went ragged. She shivered in his embrace.
“Becks,” she groaned.
His thumb moved up to cover the spot he had just been kissing. His eyes stared down at her, the bottomless pits of onyx so dark in the light. There was nothing but darkness in him. Nothing but the pure-blooded dominant vampire he was. And somehow…somehow, he was still stopping.
“Please.”
“I want you, Reyna. Not your blood. I don’t want to want your blood.”
“But you do.”
“I can feel the ache in my very bones. It sings to me.”
“Then why…?”
“Because if I want it like this, I won’t stop.”
The phrase was final. Delivered with an unparalleled intensity. This was the law. The line he would not cross.
“Okay,” Reyna said slowly. “We’ll figure it out.”
“There is nothing to figure out. I will not jeopardize your safety.”
“I mean we’ll find out a way to make it safe. I accept you for who you are,” she said, threading their fingers together. “I don’t want you to hold back when we’re together.”
He grinned—a feral, primal thing—and dropped her hands, then slipped them down past her waist and over her ass. He grasped the backs of her thighs and hoisted her into the air. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
She threw her arms around his shoulders.
She pushed her hands up into his hair, drawing his lips to hers.
Everything slowed down to this moment. To his raw, unbridled passion and the way his lips and hands and entire body claimed her.
All she wanted was him. His taste and touch.
Purely Beckham. The man she had dreamed about for so, so long in that terrible place.
She wanted to forget. Forget everything but skin on skin and breathless panting and sweet release.
Beckham didn’t hesitate. He walked them into the nearest wall. Her back collided with the hard surface, and she grunted. She bit her lip from the jarring movement. Blood spilled from the gash.
“Shit,” he groaned.
For a second, she thought he was going to drop her. His eyes narrowed to the tinge of red coating her lips. He was pure predator.
“We should stop.”
Reyna ignored him. She ran a finger through her sickly sweet blood and pressed it to his lips. “Taste.”
He groaned deep in the back of his throat at her command. Then he took her finger into his mouth and tasted her blood. Sweet ecstasy crossed his face. “Reyna…”
She dragged their lips together. His tongue moved across hers before swiping across her busted bottom lip. Fangs scraped across her lips, and she arched into him, wanting more.
He broke their kiss again. “You will be the end of me.”
“Aren’t I just the beginning?”
“Do not entice me to bite you.”
“Taste me, Becks.”
He hesitated, restraint in his eyes and the bruising squeeze of his fingers and the pulse where their bodies were connected.
Then something broke and he dove back in and captured her lip.
He sucked it into his mouth, drinking the small amount of blood that rose from the unexpected cut.
He pressed himself even harder against her and sighed deeply with pleasure.
The sound of his own excitement sent heat straight between her legs.
He released her lip gingerly, as if the thought of stopping was nearly impossible. She could see the struggle between man and monster, and she knew the man would win out.
“I’ll do anything to have you make that sound again.”
“Anything?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Slowly, she dropped onto her knees. She sneaked a devious glance up at him before reaching for the belt of his jeans and pulling it free.
He watched her silently as she popped the button and dragged the zipper down to the base.
She ran a finger across the waistband of his black boxer briefs before reaching within and freeing his cock.
Beckham watched her with fascination as she wrapped her hand around his shaft and pumped up and down once, then twice.
When he didn’t object, she removed his clothes and kneeled.
His fingers tangled in her hair as she took him in her hand once more.
She hesitated, looking at the length of it.
She had never been particularly good at this, but she wanted Beckham to have all the pleasure she had. She wanted to make him squirm.
“That’s right,” he said, coaxing her head forward. “Open your mouth for me, Little One.”
So much for squirming. Somehow, he managed to still be in complete control. It was even fucking hotter, if her soaked panties were any indication.
She did what he said. She opened her lips, allowing him the access he so desired.
He pressed his cock forward and entered her mouth with control and precision.
Just far enough that she wasn’t gagging, but almost to the brink, and still she wasn’t even close to taking him all in.
She palmed his length in her hand while she sucked on the head.
Then he thrust forward into her, forcing her to open her mouth wider and farther to compensate for him.
She moaned against the feel of him. The taste of him. When he next withdrew, she licked a drop of pre-cum off the tip and he jerked in her mouth. A smile spread on her face. Oh yes, he wanted this. He wanted her.
“More,” she moaned around his cock.
His hand tightened on her hair nearly to the point of pain before he leaned deeper into her throat.
Just when she thought she might not be able to breathe, he withdrew.
He did it again and again. Pushing her boundaries.
Testing her limits. All the while trying to hold on to that control she felt slipping around the edges.
He fucked her face, and she enjoyed it. She felt intensely erotic. She didn’t have to fumble to pleasure him, and his dominance only made her body ache for more.
Once he was buried nearly all the way inside her, he shuddered and removed himself.
“Wait, no…”
“I want you to finish twice before me,” he insisted, helping her to her feet.
She was wobbly, and her body betrayed her. If it weren’t for Beckham catching her and carrying her to the bed, she would have sunk right back down to her knees.
Beckham slid her shirt over her head and then peeled her jeans down her legs. He inhaled deeply as he spread her out on the bed.
“Fuck,” he said. “Your desire is nearly as intoxicating as your blood.”
He reached for the silky bra and unhooked it, letting her breasts spill out before him.
He caressed one, kneading it in his hand and rolling the nipple across the pad of his finger.
He brought the other one into his mouth.
She was not half as controlled as he was.
Her body writhed as his expert tongue assaulted her nipple until she could barely function.
When he dragged a fang across the sensitive nub, she thought she might come right then and there.
He played her body like a musical virtuoso.
Raw technical prowess met unbridled emotion and dazzling stage presence.
“Beckham, please.”