A Wicked Hunger (Creatures of Darkness 1) (19 page)

Especially for her.

She knew that single grain of sand was teetering on the edge. It might have been thwarted this time, but eventually it would find its way down the hourglass.
Like her, its final demise had been stayed off another day.

Her most recent brush with death had managed to kill something, however.

Her unnecessary mistrust of Mason.

Finally, she cracked her eyes open. Mace hovered over her.

“Hi,” he said in a low voice.

“Hi,” she replied a little shaky.

His lips spread into a small grin, but his eyes continued to show a deep chasm of worry. He wiped her forehead with a cool damp cloth. Her heart warmed at his tenderness, healing it in a way that had nothing to do with the bullet that had nearly carved a thoroughfare in her chest.

She felt no embarrassment when he ripped her shirt a little more and cleaned around her wound. In fact, she didn’t want him to stop. Her skin was growing hot, like electricity surged through her. She recalled this feeling from when she’d first taken Mason’s blood. At that time, she’d been appalled at her staggering desire. Now she embraced it.

Seemingly satisfied with his work, Mace set the damp cloth aside, stood, and snatched his phone from off the bedside table. He scrolled through the screen and then lifted it to his ear. A moment later he yelled, “You fucker! How dare you send an assassin after Cora! You’re fucking dead to me. And if I ever see you again, you’ll be dead for real!”

Assassin?
Who was he speaking to? Her curiosity was snuffed out by a maddening surge of desire that rolled through her like a bathtub of sloshing water. Her shirt felt confining, sticking to her uncomfortably. She pulled at the fabric, ridding herself of it and tossing it to the floor. Cool air washed over her heated skin.

Mace continued speaking into the phone with his back to her. “You might be my maker, but you just shit on any
trust we once had. I’m not kidding. You and I are done from this point on. And by the way, the shithead you sent is dead, and Cora still lives, so fuck you.”

Mace paused as if the person on the other end were talking. To Cora, those few seconds were like an eternity of sexual torture. Why had he stopped touching her? Her body burned with an
agonizing need, worse than the first night Mace had healed her. In the back of her mind, she suspected the cause to be the mixture of blood from two vampires, but at the moment, she didn’t care about anything but her body’s salacious demands.

Couldn’t he feel her pain?

Using the same low, dangerous timbre he’d been using throughout the conversation, Trent ordered, “Mason, you need to relax.”

“Relax? Relax!” Mace grew more outraged with every syllable. “I suspected you, but…fuck…I never wanted to believe you’d betray me like...” He froze as the sweet scent of Cora’s arousal saturated the room.

He turned to see her in the middle of the mattress, perched on her knees, fully healed, and topless. Her eyes flashed with undisguised lust.

It was the sexiest fucking image he could ever imagine.

Trent continued speaking on the other end of the line, but Mace was no longer listening.

“Gotta go,” he muttered absently before hanging up and tossing the phone aside. “Uh, Cora, are you alright?”

Her tongue darted out to lick her lips as she raked a hungry gaze over his body. “I need you.”

Dammit all! She’d taken too much.

He raised his palms in a halting gesture, knowing it was going to take all his willpower to enforce a bit of restraint for
her own good. She would despise him even more than she already did if he allowed her to succumb to unwanted lust yet again, even if it was his greatest fantasy to have her looking at him the way she was now.

“Cora, just lie down. It’s going to take some time, but you’ll be back to normal in a few hours.”

Even as he said it, his mouth watered at the thought of sating her as he had the last time. But even that compromise had angered her before.

With the eyes of a feline targeting prey, she crawled toward him till she came to the edge of the bed. Mace swallowed hard and then gritted his teeth, mentally reinforcing his resolve.

“I won’t take advantage of you like this. You’d hate me forever if I did.”

As she lowered one foot over the edge of the mattress, then the other, Mace crossed his arms and leaned back against the reading desk, shaking his head. He didn’t even trust himself to touch her right now, even to stay her.

Already he was stiff as a rod.

“I won’t hate you,” she purred, coming closer. Her soft hands ran over his folded arms, his shoulders, tempting him to reach for her.

He made himself like stone, freezing in place.

“Please, Mace. I feel like I’ll die if you don’t touch me.”

“You’ll kill me if I do,” he ground out.

“I won’t. Please.”

“Sorry, love, you can beg all you want. It’s not going to ha—”

Cora reached past the waistband of his pants, surprising him with her grip. He hissed in a breath.

Her features turned sly with a sexy grin. “You’re hard for me.”

He should have known then that he wasn’t going to win this one.
“I’m always hard for you,” he replied, his voice going rough. “But I’m still not going to—What are you doing?”

She tugged the drawstring of his pants loose and freed his shaft as she stroked him. Then, going to her knees, she sucked him deep into her slick mouth.

Mace cursed, his body jerking with exquisite pleasure. “You wicked woman.”

As if on a mission, she licked her way to the tip and then sucked him down again. His head fell back on a groan. He gripped the edge of the desk, telling himself he should stop her. She would want him to stop her. He really should—

She swirled her tongue around the head of his cock and gave a small moan. Unable to miss a minute of this, he inclined his head to watch her. She gazed at him with the most exquisite teasing glint in her eyes.

“God, Cora, you’re going to make me come from that look alone.”

She appeared pleased by that, eager for it. Of course she was. She was out of her mind with lust. And
I am such a shit
.

Her mouth on him was like a blissful assault that he couldn’t bring himself to fight off.
Didn’t want to. Guilt agonized him, but not enough to do what was right.

His muscles tensed as her hot tongue laved him mercilessly. His hips pumped forward and she drew him in once more, taking him deeper. He shuddered, threading his fingers through her hair to help set a rhythm and cursing himself while he drowned in selfish, hedonistic pleasure.

How many nights had he dreamed of her like this? Except in his dreams she was lucid. Dammit, he wanted her lucid!

He mourned for her; for his depraved selfishness.

Because there was no stopping this.

And if he was going to ruin all the progress he’d made with her over a single licentious act, the least he could do was offer himself to her fully, to reveal the truth of his feelings. To rip
himself open by the heart and let her see it all, and to provide her with a fervent, impassioned night to remember him by years after she’d left him.

He lifted her by the arms to stand. “I want it noted that I attempted to resist, but you are irresistible.” He scooped her legs out from under her and tossed her back onto the mattress. She gave a delighted laugh. He drank it in and committed the sound to memory, because it would be the last delighted sound he would hear from her. There’d be no sweet smiles for him later.

His heart broke a little.

And still he couldn’t stop himself.

As he joined her, she urgently tugged his pants down his hips, and he kicked them to the floor. Hers were gone just as swiftly. His mouth took hers, finding it eager for whatever he had to offer. His tongue swirled with hers recklessly. Their teeth gnashed together from sheer enthusiasm.

With his palm, h
e luxuriated over her pert breasts, squeezing and fondling them softly. When he managed to pull his lips from hers, he transferred them to one taut peak, caressing it with his tongue. Her back arched as her breath came on a sharp mew. His right hand traveled down her side and over her hip to grip her backside. A dark part of him wanted to squeeze her there so tightly that he would leave a mark—something to announce his sordid claim on her—but he only kneaded her, stamping the merciless shape of her womanly curves into his brain. Memories would be all he’d have left of her.

He shook with the effort of taking this slow, when all he wanted was to shove into her and ride her till they both collapsed from excess.

His fingers painted a path around her hip, and he dipped into her warmth. A carnal growl escaped him.

She gasped on contact, nearly whimpering as though tormented, and undulated her hips. “Yes, Mason.”

While he teased her there, his tongue returned to her breast with relish.

“I need more, Mace. Please.”

“Tell me what you need, baby.”

“You,” she groaned as he penetrated her with his thick finger. Her head lulled, and her hips lifted off the bed.

“You need this?” he said in a dark, teasing voice.

“More.” To emphasize her point, she dug her nails into this back. Or maybe that was from the second finger sliding into her silky sheath. He wanted her to drag those nails down his skin till she drew blood, both for punishment, which he wholeheartedly deserved, but also so that he could walk away from this with
her
mark on him.

Disappointment was all he received. Her hand returned to the mattress to grip the sheets. She was close to coming already.

He removed his fingers, ignoring her groaned protest. He would not accept disappointment, not from their one and only time together. He would take with him every kiss, every touch, every pilfered taste. Positioning himself between her legs, he dipped his head and took her clitoris between his lips, drowning in her sweet flavor. They both shuddered with bliss as his tongue ravaged her. Her hips writhed for him, silently begging for all he had to offer.

Through halting breaths, she moaned, “Don’t tease me, Mace. I need more
than that this time.”

“Patience, love.
You’ll get everything you want. Right now, I’m taking what I want.”

She gazed down at him, her expression unsure. “Are you going to bite me again?”

He paused, surprised by the question. After a moment of hesitation, he replied, “No,” then returned to his task.

Soon enough she was writhing again, gifting him with the sweetest feminine sounds. Those sounds turned urgent, nearly brutal in their intensity.

When she came, she came hard, her head thrashing. All the while, he deliriously laved her tender folds, only stopping after she went completely limp.

He crawled over her and gently kissed the place where her wound had been. She sighed, and his eyes trained on her
breasts as they rose and fell from her deliciously rapid heartbeat. He tried to hide his elongating fangs, but she noticed all the same.  

She didn’t flinch as he expected, didn’t look horrified as she had when she’d woken up next to him that morning at C
ortez’s. No, her eyes were smoldering, zealous, voracious—yet another indication that she was out of her mind with lust.

He felt insidious for wanting his fangs deep in her flesh, for imagining the taste of her delectable blood, but he restrained himself, relying on guilt to temper his desire. He was already taking so much from her. Once more, he brushed the guilt aside, leaving it to eat at him later. He would dedicate centuries to it. 

He gazed down at her, taking in the beauty of her under him, ready for his taking. Another mental snapshot to torment him later.

She fussed impatiently, squirming uncomfortably. Her pained expression demanded his immediate compliance. His shaft found her entrance, and he pressed his hips forward. As she took him to the hilt, she threw her head back on a gasp and clawed his back. Mace growled at the glorious pain of her nails. His fangs throbbed, but he would not soil this moment further by taking her blood.

He began a steady rhythm, dazed by the rapturous feel of her warmth convulsing around him. His pace increased, and as she took pleasure from him, he admired her beauty with a reverence that bordered on worship.

As their bodies collided ruthlessly, he found himself admitting, “I love you, Cora. I will love you even when
you’re hating me for this.”

Her eyes snapped to his, going wide. Her mouth opened,
then closed, as if she wasn’t sure how to respond. Mace didn’t need her to. Her expression softened. “I won’t hate you,” she assured through heavy breaths. “I could never hate you. Not anymore.”

“You will. And I won’t fault you for it.”

She shook her head. “You’re wrong.”

He allowed the beautiful lie to surround him like the most gorgeous symphony. “Then tell me you’re mine,” he growled, giving a hard thrust of his hips.

She complied without hesitation. “I’m yours.”

He gripped her nape in his fist and increased his pace. “There will be no one else for you but me.” His thrusts became frantic to accentuate his words.

“No one,” she moaned, arching into his frenzied onslaught.

He knew he couldn’t hold her to it, a promise born of coercion and blood-drunk lust, but he reveled in her hasty response anyway.

Their bodies settled in a carnal dance, skin slapping against skin with brutal fervor, breaths mingling, ecstasy burgeoning. She clung to him so sweetly, her legs tightening around his thighs as he sensed her on the verge. Crying his name, she gouged her nails into his back again, urging him on. White-hot pleasure bounced between them, licking its way over every inch of skin.

A rumbling sound ripped free of his throat as his release dulled his mind and tensed his body. Cora cried out once more, joining him in a place where ecstasy ruled.

When it was over, all that remained was their exhausted bodies, clasped by tangled limbs. After a moment, he rolled onto his back, pulling Cora over him. Her arm came around his torso, and her fingers hooked his opposite shoulder blade. To his utter surprise, before she fell into adorable slumber, she kissed his chest.

His heart broke into thousands of jagged shards. He wondered how long it would take for those harsh edges to dull enough to stop cutting.