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I need it to be real and powerful if I want to be as strong as possible when I get to Lingate.
“You’re either very brave or very reckless,” I say.
“It’s both, I assure you,” he says.
I shift, the tension leaving my body as I smooth my hands over his shirt, peeling it off and letting it drop to the floor so there is only the thin cotton shirt beneath my touch. He lets me explore him, lets me draw ever closer, inhaling deeply through my nose as I drag it along the seam of his neck.
My fangs punch out, and his desire flares at the sight.
He grins down at me, his hands roaming over the sides of my body, down to my hips. He grips them, hefting me up until I have to lock my ankles around his back.
“There are those fangs,” he says, almost as if he’s been dying to see them up close.
“Have you ever been bitten before?” I ask, doubtful. I’m not the last Succubus in existence, I know that, but we’re rare. Rare enough I haven’t ever met another one like me since my family died.
“No,” he says. “But I’ve always wanted to be.”
We’re eye-level now as he moves through the room, settling back on the velvet couch, keeping me situated on his lap, shifting me so my thighs hug his hips.
He tips his head back, a submission I’m not expecting to affect me so damn much. Goddess, it’s almost debilitating, sitting atop this strong, playful siren, and watching him givehimself to me. We’re fully clothed, but arousal pools between my thighs, the need so sharp it’s almost painful.
“Tell me what you need, Liv,” he says, those powerful hands sliding over my hips, along my spine, soothing and coaxing at the same time.
I need to feed, properly, even if it’s just this once.
Even if I know it’s reckless and dangerous to let him feed me in both the ways I need.
Jagger draws closer until we’re chest to chest. “Do you want this?” he asks, dragging his lips over the base of my throat in a ghost of a kiss.
Fire blooms at the too-light touch, my senses sharpening to every sensation he evokes.
“What about this?” he asks, holding me tighter against him, kissing his way up my throat, the underside of my jaw, until he reaches my lips. He hesitates there, his teal eyes churning with need while he studies my fangs.
And then he kisses me, gently at first, then with more passion as I open my mouth to let him in.
A whimper escapes my throat as he teases the inside of my mouth with his tongue. There isn’t a hint of hesitation or fear for my fangs. He’s so careful with them, it’s like he’s kissed me a thousand times before.
But he hasn’t.
No one has ever kissed me like this before, held me like this before—as if I’m something to worship instead of fear.
I instinctively rock against him, the pulsing need between my thighs ratcheting up with every stroke of his tongue against mine.
“Dove,” he sighs against my mouth. “Tell me,” he says, pulling back so our eyes meet. “Tell me what you need.”
I shiver with the request. No one has ever asked.
Any partners I’ve had before have been wary with me, careful, binding my hands to give them a false advantage and going about the act as quickly as possible. Most of them have ventured into bed with me only to have a story to tell their friends after.
There has never been this level of affection. Not even with…
I rock harder against him, forcing the memory from my mind. His leathers do nothing to hide the length growing beneath it, and goddess, I ache to get him inside me.
I kiss him back, harder, hungrier before pulling away. I slide my hand behind his neck, gripping it. “You can’t Link with me,” I say it again.
“I told you, I won’t fuck you three times in here,” he counters. “As appealing as that sounds.”
“But my bite…it can be addictive.”
