Page 133 of The Donor’s Dilemma

She looked down where he kissed the flat between her breasts. She nodded. “All of it. I want all of it.”

“Fine,” he said.

Without warning, he released his grip on her neck, and her body fell onto his waiting shaft. Every inch, every vein, every pulse. Every desperate ache was only accentuated by Theo grabbing her hips and thrusting up until he bottomed out. She cried out as she took every delicious inch in one swift motion, and she sat there for a moment. Holding him. Feeling him.

His fingers found her chin, tilting her face up to his. He watched, waiting for her reaction, until ever so slowly she raised herself and then sank back down with a whimper. She did it again and again, holding Theo’s eye and watching his jaw tick as his lips peeled back and he bore his fangs at her. At his prey. She picked up speed, finding her rhythm, finding the roll, the angle that hit every spot just right. Throwing her head back, feeling her hair skirt along her back, feeling his hands on her body, his thighs between her legs. Body bare and open for his eyes to feast upon.

He watched her, not pushing for anything else, just allowing her to take him however she wanted.

As her lust built, her perfect peak edging closer, she faced him, held his face in her hands, kissed his cheeks, his lips. She bounced, gasping with every thrust. “Bite me,” she said again. When he moved to her neck, she stopped him with a finger to his lips before pointing to where her breast met her ribs. He shook his head, but he smiled. She knew what he would say: “That will hurt.” She didn’t care. She wanted the pain, and he knew it.

She leaned back, trusting him to hold her as his arms curled around her back and he watched her body rock against his. She pointed again to the spot where she wanted him, beneath her breast, where nobody would ever see it. He leaned down, pushing her further back, and kissed the spot. His eyes watched her as his hips moved, thrusting as he grazed the spot with his teeth. She shivered. His eyebrows raised, waiting for confirmation, just like he always did, waiting for that final moment of consent before he bit her.

When she smiled, he bit, gently this time, but gods, did it hurt. Her body shook, and as every ounce of need drained to her core and stars shot through her eyes, she threw her head back on a scream when he started thrusting and her orgasm turned her liquid. She was floating through a starry night, blinded by the exquisite ecstasy. Her head spun as he turned, dropping her onto the bed, pulling her to the edge and then pounding into her. He spread her legs wide. His mouth was free, he leaned over, staring down with a predator’s gaze. He thrust over and over, her legs shaking. She gasped with every stroke. Holding her still, moving faster, moaning her name, that he loved her. She would have said it back if she could remember what words were, but her mind had fled. Only her body remained, and her body belonged to him.

When her head rolled back and she screamed again, another orgasm shaking her body, his thrusts turned erratic. Every pulse of his release emptied inside her as he held her close, fingers digging into her hips.

There was no Verity, no Theo. They weren’t human or vampire. They were one. They were together, they were in love, they were exactly as they were meant to be, wrapped in each other’s arms.

When he fell on top of her, breathing hard, Verity rolled over onto him. She wrapped him in her arms, kissing his face, running her fingers through his hair and catching her breath before asking, “If you don’t need to breathe, why are you out of breath?”

Theo laughed. “That’s a good point. I don’t know.”

He cupped her face, kissing her. “I love you, Verity, but please, we have to do this together. No more secrets.”

She nodded. “I love you too. No more secrets, I promise.”

He nodded before gliding a finger to the spot he’d bitten below her breast. “That one’s going to be noticeable,” he said.

“And who’s going to see it?” Verity asked.

He hummed, like he didn’t believe her, before lowering his head and starting to lick and heal the wound.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Trying to make it less noticeable,” he replied.

“What’s the point in that?” she said. “We aren’t done yet.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Moonlight streamed through the window, sharp and pale in the cloudless spring sky, illuminating Verity where she slept on top of him. She was warm. Something Theo cherished, waking like this, her soft body lying against his, warming him from the outside in. It was bliss.

They had argued, yes, and some things still needed resolving, but one thing she agreed on was not doing anything so reckless again. At least, not without talking it through first. They were a team now. They had to be. They would survive this no other way. Hopefully, she was beginning to understand that.

His fingers curled through her hair, his sleeping angel, when there was a knock at the front door.

“You’re gonna want to get that," Jesse called from the lounge.

Theo wasn’t sure when his brother had come back. He enjoyed having him around, but it would be nice to have some alone time with Verity once this was over. They could be together. That thought filled him with both warmth and fear in equal measure. There were conversations they should already have had: conversations about life and death, about children, and growing old. Marriage, taking him home to meet her parents, holidays together. The list was endless, all the things he wouldn’t be able to give her. All the things she deserved and he couldn’t provide. She wanted this. He wanted this. They’d cross those bridges when they came to them.

He knew he should be prioritising the plan, not having an existential crisis, when the knock at the door came again. He groaned, rolling out of bed, wondering why his brother couldn’t just answer the door himself.

He pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts and, with one last look at the woman asleep in his bed, headed for the front door.

It was a human, he could tell by the steady, middle-aged heartbeat, slightly elevated with nerves or climbing the stairs, or both. Not a threat, or the doorman would have called up. He opened the door.

The man looked to be in his late fifties, grey hair, heavy stubble, a folded newspaper in his hand. He straightened his back when Theo appeared.