His mouth was firm, but his lips were satin, and his kiss dared me to deny the heat blasting through me. I lost that dare, parting my lips without hesitation. He deepened the kiss, tongue twining with mine until lust made me dizzy. His taste, his scent, the way his hands moved in my hair, the sound he made when he sucked on my tongue . . . I was melting and burning at the same time.

Then I arched against him when he caught my lower lip with his fangs, lightly piercing it. The nip flavored our kiss with the tang of my blood. I scored his lip with my fangs, moaning when I tasted his blood. Ambrosia couldn’t compare. I scored his tongue next, then sucked on it. His kiss became even more erotic. That deep inner ache began to throb and my control evaporated. Too much so.

I knew I’d gone too far when he shifted and I glimpsed his back over his wide shoulders. It was streaked with crimson and my hands were also red. At some point, I must have ripped bloody tracks into his skin.

“Sorry!” I said, snatching my hands away.

“I’m not.” He grabbed my hands and put them on his back again. “I want more.”

He ripped my coat open. I was naked beneath it, and his gaze went molten as it raked over me. “Stunning,” he rasped. “Can scarcely believe you’re real.”

Oh, I was real, and I needed him to never stop kissing me. I pulled his head down and his mouth once again slanted over mine. Then I groaned when my bare chest touched his. His muscles were so hard, so taut, but his skin . . . silk had never felt this luxuriant. I rubbed against him to feel more. Then his hands began to move over me. Everything that had ached now felt like it was burning beneath his touch. I felt more volatile than I had right before I’d exploded. Soon, I was making incoherent noises against his mouth.

He slid between my open legs, then twisted his hips so the bulge in his jeans rubbed me where I throbbed the most. Each sinuous stroke had me arching against him, until I was gripping him with my thighs as tightly as I held him with my arms. I needed to have him inside me. I couldn’t wait. There was only one thing in my way—the damn jeans he still wore.

He let out a growling chuckle when I tore at the front of them until dark fabric flew in every direction. Then he sat up and caught my hands. “No,” he said, the single word stunning me. “Not until you stop holding back.”

What?

“I’m not holding back,” I began, only to have him fling me against the couch with such force, it sent me and the sofa sliding across the room.

He stalked over when the wall finally stopped the couch. “Liar. The only time you weren’t was when you tore my back up.” With each step, his voice deepened. “But after you apologized for that, you haven’t drawn my blood since. I won’t tolerate your half response. I want all of it, and if you keep holding back,” he leaned over, denying me the kiss I sought in favor of nearly yanking my legs open, “I’m going to torture you with pleasure until I break your control.”

Chapter 26

A wild thrill ran through me that at once became muted with caution. “I can’t. I’d hurt you.”

“Good,” he said with a dark laugh. “Looking forward to it.”

I took in a breath to argue. It exploded out of me as his mouth descended between my legs. He didn’t tease me with ever-deepening flicks of his tongue the way he had when we first kissed. He devoured my flesh with the same abandon he’d demanded I give to him. My loins clenched with band after band of unbelievable pleasure. I gripped his shoulders as my gasps turned into loud cries.

“Let go,” I heard him mutter against my flesh. “Give me all of you.”

His tongue had to be made of fire. Only that could explain the way it seared me. I didn’t remember falling to the floor, but I must have, because wood replaced the soft leather of the couch. Splinters stabbed my fingers from how hard I dug my nails into it. I didn’t register the pain. Not when a new series of deep swirls yanked my back off the floor.

Cries kept spilling out of me, so loud they would have sent the club’s employees running if Ian hadn’t mesmerized them into neither hearing nor seeing us. Then another series of strokes brought a new rush of ecstasy with the suddenness of a ripcord being pulled. The release I needed was right there—

He tore his mouth away, denying me the orgasm I’d been moments from. “No. Not until you truly let go.”

Frustration made my hand whip out faster than I could think. Then I stared in horror at the bright imprint on his cheek. “I—I am so sorry—”

He blew on my swollen, aching flesh and the instant clench of pleasure stole my voice. “The slap is better, but still not enough.” He chuckled before another teasing breath brushed my clitoris like a cluster of feathers. The pleasure only heightened my need, as did the barest flick of his tongue next.

My hands went to his head to urge him back down for more. He caught them, holding them against my stomach. “Not until you unleash all you’ve been holding back. Until then, enjoy the torture.” Low, wicked laugh. “I know I will.”

He kept bringing me to the edge only to yank me back as if he were the Orgasm Whisperer and knew exactly when to stop. It wasn’t long before I considered using magic to make him cease the exquisite torment. At the same time, a darker part of me wanted to let go, the way he urged. The repeated whiplash from passion to denial shredded through the last layers of my control. I was no longer concerned with going too far or hurting him. I couldn’t think beyond the need.

I barely registered Ian’s growl of approval when the chains broke on the deepest parts of me. Suddenly, I had more than enough strength to yank free from his grasp. I flung Ian off me hard enough to send him smashing into the wall on the other side of the room. Concrete and plaster burst from the impact his body made, and I didn’t care. I lunged toward him, almost feral in my need to have him.

He was faster, meeting me in the middle of the room. He grabbed me before slamming both of us against the nearest wall. Another cloud of concrete, dust and debris burst into the air. Then his mouth crushed mine as he yanked my thigh up to his waist. A rough thrust sheathed his full length inside me. My sharp cry mixed with his hoarse shout.

His grip became tight enough to hurt, if I could feel anything aside from the rapturous burn inside. He began to move and pleasure ripped through me like never before. His size, my hypersensitivity to the silver in his piercing, the added friction from it, the thrusts that matched my overwhelming need with blistering ecstasy . . . each withdrawal had me sobbing with denial and each thrust had me crying out for more. I needed all of him. Everything. Now.

Blood flavored our kiss. I didn’t know if it was mine or his. Didn’t know which of us had taken the other to the ground, either. All I knew was the ferocious pleasure from those hard, deep thrusts that had me tearing at his back in encouragement. He gripped my hips, moving even faster. My climax roared near, leaving me almost rabid. He couldn’t deny me this again. He couldn’t. I wouldn’t let him.

I flipped us over until I was on top of him. Then I gripped his hips so hard, my fingers stabbed right through his skin. I didn’t care. I gave myself up to an orgasm that tore through me with the intensity of a killing blow, bowing my back and causing me to scream loud enough to hurt my ears.

Afterward, I slumped over his chest as limply as if I’d been stabbed in the heart with silver. Several moments later, he pushed my hair aside to kiss the exposed curve of my throat.