Chapter 32 #2
This was a queen claiming her throne.
Her mouth was hot and eager, but it was her confidence that sent him over the edge.
There was no hesitation, no trace of the human shyness she once possessed.
She explored him with a purpose that was utterly carnal in its intent.
Her tongue was clever, yes, but it was also experimental.
She learned the lines and textures of him, the way he responded to a change in pressure, the exact spot that made his breath catch and his fingers tighten in her hair.
For Kate, it was a revelation. Everything was overwhelming in all the right ways. She could taste the salt on his skin, smell the musky scent of his desire.
What made it even better was that she no longer required oxygen.
She could take her time. She could push him to the edge and keep him there, noticing every shudder, every half-breathed plea. With every touch, every taste, she was overwriting the tainted memories of Aleksander, replacing them with this, a chosen act of love and lust.
She looked up at him, her eyes glowing with a brilliant blue in the dim light, her mouth still working its magic.
She saw the raw pleasure on his face, the agony of his restraint.
She saw a centuries-old vampire completely undone by her, and the knowledge was the most potent aphrodisiac she had ever known.
“Kate,” he groaned, his head thudding back against the wall. His hands, which had been tangled in her hair, now gripped his own thighs, his knuckles white. It was the last bastion of his legendary control.
“That’s enough,” he finally forced out, his voice strained to the breaking point. “I need you. Now. Before I go insane.”
Kate rose seamlessly, her hands already working at the fastenings of her remaining clothes. When she stood before him naked, Devon felt his control slip another notch.
She was beautiful, pale as moonlight, and looking at him with a hunger that matched his own.
‘So take me,’ she said, chin tilting up, her voice carrying a challenge that made something primal in him roar with approval.
Devon moved quickly, lifting Kate and carrying her to the bed in a blur. But when he tried to lay her down gently, she twisted in his arms. Using her new strength, she flipped their positions so that she straddled him instead.
“My turn to hold you captive,” she said, her hands braced on his chest as she looked down at him with eyes that blazed with triumph and desire.
Devon’s hands found her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as she positioned herself above him. But just as she began to lower herself, Devon suddenly pulled her forward with his superior strength.
“Not yet,” he said, his voice a low, wicked rumble full of desire and mischief. “My turn.”
Kate gasped as she found herself positioned not over his hips, but over his mouth.
Her hands flew to the ornate wooden headboard for support, her fingers curling around the carved oak.
The human Kate would have been mortified, perhaps even protested.
But the vampire Kate? She felt only a dizzying rush of exhilaration at his boldness.
This was a game, and he was making a daring new move.
“Devon,” she shuddered, the name filled with breathless anticipation.
His response was to show her exactly what four centuries of experience could achieve. His tongue lapped skillfully against her folds, and Kate’s back arched as pure pleasure bolted through her like lightning.
Her newfound nature intensified every sensation; the flick of his tongue, the sucking of his lips, and every subtle change in pressure, pushing her to the edge of madness.
She started to lose control of her own strength. Her hands, gripping the headboard for balance, began to tighten. She felt the fine grain of the ancient wood under her fingertips and sensed the stress fractures starting to form deep within the oak.
She tried to relax her grip, afraid of breaking it, afraid of breaking the spell, but his assault was relentless.
“You’re magnificent,” Devon murmured against her skin, his voice a low vibration that traveled up through her entire body, making her cry out.
He tasted her, learned her, worshipped her, and with every passing second, the pleasure built.
It was more intense than anything she had ever felt as a human.
A wave of sensation rose up, threatening to overwhelm her.
Her hips moved of their own accord as she rode his face, maintaining a rhythm that would have been impossible when she was human.
Her grip on the headboard tightened again, the wood groaning in protest, a low creak that was almost lost beneath her gasps.
Don’t break it, don’t break it, she chanted in her mind, but she was losing the battle.
“Devon, I can’t—” she gasped, her body trembling on the very precipice of release, stretched taut like a bowstring.
That’s when it happened.
As the orgasm, a cataclysmic, world-shattering wave of pure bliss, crashed over her with devastating intensity, her conscious thought dissolved. All control vanished. Her hands clenched involuntarily, her strength erupting in one explosive, unrestrained burst.
The sound was shockingly loud in the quiet room: a sharp, violent crack, like a tree branch snapping in a storm.
The ornate carved headboard split down the middle.
The sudden, complete loss of support sent the entire bed frame collapsing with a tremendous, splintering crash.
The mattress tilted violently, sliding sideways as the wooden frame gave way, dumping them both in a heap of tangled limbs and ruined antique furniture.
For a moment, they both lay in stunned silence among the wreckage of what had once been a very expensive antique bed.
Then Kate started to giggle.
“Oh my God,” she laughed, covering her face with her hands. “I broke the bed. I actually broke the bed.”
Devon’s laughter joined hers, rich, warm and completely delighted.
“I think that might be a first for me,” he said, pulling her down for a kiss. “And I’ve had four centuries to practice.”
“Are you complaining?” Kate asked, still giggling as she kissed him back.
“Never,” Devon said, his hands roaming her body with renewed hunger. “Though we might need to invest in reinforced furniture.”
Kate’s laughter faded as she felt his arousal pressing against her, still hard despite their predicament.
“We could stop,” she said, though her body was already responding to his touch again.
“Could we?” Devon asked, his voice dropping to that dangerous growl that never failed to make her shiver.
“No,” Kate admitted, shifting to straddle him properly on the tilted mattress. “I don’t think we could.”
This time, when she positioned herself above him on the tilted, ruined mattress, there was no hesitation. Kate took him slowly, inch by thick inch, her body accepting his with a delicious friction that made them both moan out loud.
She savored every inch as he filled her completely, the sense of rightness, of belonging. The connection overwhelming, a subtle, electric hum of combined energy. She had been anticipating this moment for weeks.
She moved above him with the confident, strong grace of her new existence. She experimented with different rhythms and angles, learning how to thrill him with a slight shift of her hips. It was a dance of power and pleasure, and for the first time, she was leading.
Devon’s hands roamed her body with a possessive hunger, no longer needing to practice restraint. He was her partner in this, his touch both a guide and a surrender.
“You feel…” he rasped, his eyes dark with a pleasure that bordered on pain. “Perfect. You feel perfect.”
“More,” she demanded, the word a guttural command. She wanted more of this, more of him, more of the feeling of being utterly, completely in control of her own pleasure.
Devon responded not with words, but with action.
He sat up, his abs tightening, and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him.
The change in angle was exquisite torture, making Kate cry out, her head falling back as a fresh wave of pleasure coursed through her.
But Devon wasn’t finished. He was taking back control.
With a surge of speed and strength that stole her breath, he flipped them both. Kate found herself on her hands and knees on the ruined mattress, the rough fabric of the sheets scraping her skin.
He positioned himself behind her, and when he entered her this time, the angle was deeper, more claiming than anything they had ever shared. It was a position of surrender and utter possession, which Kate met with a fierce, answering need.
His arms wrapped around her, caging her.
One hand splayed across her stomach, while the other found her breast, his thumb teasing the nipple into a hard peak.
He held her against him as he began to move, a rhythm that was both brutally fierce and exquisitely tender.
This wasn’t just sex; it was a branding.
“Mine,” he growled against her ear, the sound a possessive vibration that resonated deep in her bones. His fangs scraped the sensitive skin of her neck, a promise of what was to come. “My Kate.”
“Yours,” Kate agreed breathlessly, turning her head, seeking his mouth with hers. “But you’re mine, too.”
Their kiss was hungry and desperate, full of fangs and need and the shared taste of their desire. Their civil veneers were gone, replaced by a raw, needy hunger.
This was the core of their nature, the predator within them both, finally unleashed and recognizing its mate.
As the pleasure built, coiling tight and hot in her belly, an instinct older than memory took over. When her teeth found the sensitive spot where Devon’s neck met his shoulder, she didn’t just scrape; she bit.