Chapter Eight #2
She shivered in anticipation and reached for his belt buckle.
“I can sense everything about you.” He dipped his hand inside her jeans. “But the smell of you is purely primal.”
She yanked his belt loose and tugged down his zipper.
“Oh and you’re so wet,” he groaned like a prayer.
She shuddered under his touch as he slicked a finger through her wetness and dragged it back up to her clit. He stroked slow methodical circles around her most sensitive area, and she lost all cognitive thought as he toyed with her.
“Oh fuck,” she gasped.
In that moment, she didn’t care how he had come back. Just that he was here. And she needed him more furiously than she had ever needed anyone or anything.
Her body responded like a struck match. Every touch fanned the flames until she was ready to combust. And still, he didn’t stop. His fingers dominated her clit. His touch clouded her senses. Everything coalesced into the one thought: Beckham is alive.
He was alive and here and touching her. He wanted her and needed her.
Her life still moved forward and wasn’t completely derailed.
And he was here to see her come out on top despite the hell she’d had to endure.
His death had only made her want to fight back.
To make people pay for what had been taken from her.
And she wasn’t going to stop until they did pay.
Because he may be here, but they’d done everything they could to take him from her.
“Stop thinking,” Beckham said, as if he’d read her mind. “Come for me, Little One.”
She moaned on a breath and released all the tension in her body. Her brow smoothed, her jaw relaxed, her body sagged—and then it hit her like a freight train. The orgasm ripped through her as unexpectedly as Beckham’s presence here.
She crumpled forward into him. He kissed her hair softly and then lifted her into his arms. She put hers around his neck as he placed her on the bed, then crawled in after her. Her jeans melted away and he shucked off his own pants.
Reyna stripped back the comforter with a coy smile and sank onto the dark blue silk sheets. Her hair fanned out around her head while he towered over her, alluring and terrifying. An unlikely match—and yet somehow perfect in every way.
“I have waited a lifetime for you,” Beckham said.
“I thought I’d have to live mine without you.”
He stroked a finger across her cheek before slanting his mouth on hers.
It was a kiss of claiming. A kiss filled with loss and heartbreak and renewal and hope.
It was everything she could ever want in a kiss, and more.
It meant he was here. He was really here.
Above everything else, he was here and he was hers.
She wanted to take her time getting reacquainted with his body, but one kiss was her undoing. She clawed at the remaining clothes that separated them. He grinned against her mouth before obligingly removing his boxers.
When he got to her black underwear, he didn’t seem quite as in control as he’d been with his own. He hastily ripped the material in two and tossed them onto the floor. She laughed at the abruptness and then immediately groaned as his mouth replaced his hands.
Just when she thought she was going to come all over again, his mouth moved to her inner thigh. He inhaled sharply right at the apex and leisurely ran his tongue along the main artery.
“Oh God, Becks, please,” she groaned. Sure, he needed to heal, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want him to sink his fangs into her. To claim her in every way that he could.
“Reyna…”
She thrust her pelvis up and rolled her hips achingly. She wanted him so bad. She wasn’t above begging.
Then she felt the prick. She gasped at the first feeling of pain, which was instantly smothered by pleasure as he sank his fangs in her artery and began to drink.
Endorphins flooded her system. The vamp venom heightened everything in her body, especially the intense pleasure.
If she got too much, it could disorient her and even knock her out.
But she trusted that he was going to take only enough to make him feel better and to make her see stars.
Fight or flight kicked in, amping up the adrenaline in her body and sending her into a frenzy.
It was what sent her running from Beckham the first night that he drank from her.
It was what made humans fear vampires. But the adrenaline could make you want more too.
It was a rush. Hot and primal and exotic.
It sent heat straight to her core, warming her up and making her body practically vibrate with need.
Then as quickly as he’d gone in, he came up, breathing heavily with blood on his lips and looking as if he was ready to orgasm. His pupils blasted out and his sharp features heightened.
“You,” he groaned.
“Me?” she asked breathily.
He moved up her body and she reached in between them, taking his cock in her hand. His eyes closed for a split second at the touch. She stroked him idly as the rest of the venom flooded her system, giving her the best high of her fucking life.
“Taste like Heaven.”
“My blood or my pussy?” she joked.
He arched an eyebrow. “Both.”
Then he kissed her, filling her mouth with the taste of her body. He grabbed both of her hands and pushed them over her head before thrusting forward into her body. His mouth muffled her cry of desire as he moved in and out of her in the most delicious way.
Beckham Anderson had stolen her heart, he owned her body, and as they came together, their souls touched.