Blood Red. Sharon PageЧитать онлайн книгу.
dreams, only she found pleasure. The fiery explosions of her body always woke her.
The dreams…those wonderful, frightening, scandalous dreams. What did they mean?
Yannick found that blissfully excruciating place again with his tongue. But this time, the sensations didn’t spear her with shock. This time Althea felt the pleasure take her and she arched at his touch.
She had already sinned, hadn’t she? Was this a sin? Or could she pretend that she had not exactly given up her purity? That she was not exactly being intimate with a vampire? She’d touched herself—her own breasts—another sin. But with him, nothing felt wrong at all.
His tongue slid lower. He seemed to know exactly what she yearned for. His tongue rippled into her, filling her, and she tensed. Then cried out in pure delight as he plunged his tongue in and out. It was incredible. As perfect as his…his cock felt in her dreams.
To her astonishment, he withdrew, ran his tongue lower. Oh, how sensitive it was down there!
Then he touched her bottom—the entrance there—with his tongue.
And in an instant, Yannick proved she was not pure and moral at all.
His tongue dabbled and wetted. Oh it was so wrong, but so good. Althea was horrified—but thrilled.
He cupped her derrière with one big hand, lifted, and circled her tingling opening with his tongue. He skimmed his hands down her bare legs. Goodness, no other man had ever seen her naked legs, yet he casually caught hold of her ankles and lifted her legs up.
Soon Althea had her thighs pressed along her body, her calves and bare feet in the air. This way, her intimate parts were exposed to him—her “grotto of love” and even more shockingly, her bottom.
Yannick’s strong hands held her thighs as his lips grazed the base of her spine. Hot and wet, his tongue delved in the valley between her cheeks again.
Slid upward, until it dipped into her entrance again, and pushed inside.
Startled, she cried out in her mind. Yannick. Oh, but you can’t!
He answered, every inch the demon he claimed to be. Oh, but I can.
His tongue slid in and out, swirled, and filled her. In and out. Thrusting like he did in her cunny in her dreams.
Althea gasped as his thumb found her nub, as his two fingers slid into her. He spread his fingers wide, plunging them deep.
Someone was crying out. Her cries. But her voice was so different. Strained. Raw. Demanding. Yes. Yes. Oh God. Oh God.
Need made her brave and she grasped his hand on her clit, changing his stroke.
Yannick laughed into her mind, a raunchy, coarse laugh. Yes, angel, show me how to take you there.
His words were like a spark to powder. She burst. Burst into a million shimmering pieces. Magical and intense, her orgasm tore through her.
Yes, come, my beautiful Althea.
She did, out of control, wild. She barely drifted back to earth before he took her to ecstasy again.
Althea tried to hang on to sanity. Her head buzzed as though filled with bees, throbbed with the pounding of her racing heart. She struggled to open her eyes, to see him.
He was over her, his hand on his cock, and she knew she couldn’t fight him if he slid into her now.
Explore me, he urged. Please.
He was truly begging. And Althea sensed it was a foreign sensation for him.
She didn’t know whether to feel more powerful or more scared. But she touched his broad chest. Hidden by shadow, it was alive to her senses through feel. Beneath her fingertips, his heart beat slow and steady. She ran her palms over the broad, solid muscles of his magnificent chest. Curved her hands to fit over his solid pecs. Toyed with the dusting of curls.
White-blond hair fell over his face as Yannick ducked his head at her touch. Agonized pleasure showed on his aristocratic features. The sight made her tremble. His hand still rested on his cock and she glanced down. He gave his shaft a long, slow stroke.
Her cunny clenched in response.
She flicked her thumbs over his nipples and he gave a half-chuckle, half-groan. They peaked eagerly at her touch and she pinched them, just as he did to her.
“Do you like that?”
My nipples are just as sensitive as yours, sweet.
Althea glanced up, teasingly beneath her lashes. “Would you like them suckled then?”
His sharp intake of breath truly made her feel like a conquering warrior.
Anything you would like, love, I would.
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?