He’d felt it instantly the moment Portia had taken his blood, and then again later when they’d made love again and again. There was something between them that couldn’t be denied, even if he wanted to. He wanted to claim her as his, damn the consequences, and she would agree, he read that much in her expressive face. But it wouldn’t be right. She was young and he was her first experience. He had no right to bind her to him when this was only a temporary infatuation on her part.

“Portia, don’t tempt me any longer.”

She brought one hand to his lips and brushed her index finger over his fang. A flame of desire shot through him.

“So you are tempted.”

Despite the hand he’d clamped over hers that clasped his cock, she managed to move it to stroke his shaft.

“Fuck!” he hissed.

“Bite me. Take my blood.”

Ah, fuck it! Even he didn’t have enough strength to resist. In one fluid motion, he lifted her off her feet and carried her to the sofa, letting himself fall onto it as he positioned her in his lap. Her legs spread, and the t-shirt that she wore rode up, revealing her lack of panties. He let out an appreciative grunt.

The scent of her arousal instantly wrapped around him, only intensifying his hunger.

“This won’t be gentle,” he warned before he rammed his shaft into her soft core. Liquid silk engulfed him, the warmth and wetness of it intoxicating.

Her head fell back, exposing her neck to him in all its vulnerability. The ivory skin beckoned him, the pulse that beat against it acting as a countdown to his approach. Tap-tap-tap, it called, but his eyes drifted lower.

He’d had his teeth in so many necks in the last decades, that he wanted something that would set this time apart from all the other times. His hands came up to grip the collar of her t-shirt. He ripped it, tearing it into two right down the middle.

Portia gasped, her eyes widening as understanding bloomed. “What—?”

“Too late, Portia.” Too late to protest now.

His action couldn’t be stopped, not by her, and certainly not by him. With one hand, he cradled her full breast, enjoying its weight in his palm. Underneath the pale skin, his keen eyes noticed the blood vessels that sat close to the surface, close enough for him to smell their sweetness.

His throat constricted and his cock jerked inside her.

“Ride me,” he ordered gruffly.

She lifted herself onto her knees, making him withdraw, then came back down, impaling herself again.

“Harder!”

His body tensed, welcoming her movements. He’d hoped to savor this moment, but his control what shot to bits. Without another coherent thought, he sank his lips onto her breast, pulling the nipple into his mouth. As he licked over it, his fangs drove into her flesh to either side of it, drawing the blood from her tit.

Portia jerked under his hold only for an instant, before her breathless moan drifted to his ears. Her rich blood ran over his tongue and down the back of it, trickling down his throat, different flavors bursting on his taste buds. Spicy and sweet at the same time, it was everything he’d ever dreamed of and more.

He groaned, his hips thrusting in synch with Portia’s movements as she continued to ride him, her tight muscles clenching around him on each down stroke and releasing on each withdrawal.

When her hand cupped the back of his head to hold him closer to her breast, Zane’s heart jumped with joy. He felt accepted and wanted by a woman who could have anybody. Yet, she’d chosen him to show her what pleasure and passion meant. Would she want more from him? Could he hope that despite her youth and inexperience, her heart could feel the same as his did?

He shook the thought of it off, not wanting to taint this experience with the inevitable disappointment that would follow. All he could ask for was this moment, the moment of total possession, of acceptance, of surrender.

Portia was in his arms, moaning out her pleasure, riding him hard and fast, urging him to take more of her blood. Only the present counted. There was no past, no future. Only the here and now.

With her blood filling him, reaching every cell in his body, he felt like the richest man on earth, a man who had everything, who lacked nothing. And at the same time, he had nothing to give her, only his body, only the love that was inside him, bottled up and hidden. He could admit it to himself now, but he could never tell her. It was the one secret he had to keep from her. Because if she knew his feelings, she would feel obligated to offer him more. She was too sweet to leave him. She would confuse her own feelings with love, when the things that she felt were merely desire and lust for something she’d only just discovered: sex.