Chapter 92
Chapter 92
On Friday evening, Amos was already waiting at the front door when Chloe arrived. She rang the doorbell, and Amos counted ten breaths before he opened the door so she wouldn’t realize he’d been
poised there like a stalking cat.
“Hi,” she said softly, offering a shy smile.
“Chloe. Welcome.” Amos let his gaze track over her as she steppe inside. She was wearing scrubs, green today, and all her thick da hair was pulled back in a tidy French braid. Amos was tempted to unravel it, but he kept his hands to himself, struggling not to loom while she toed her shoes off and deposited her bag beside them.
He forced himself to step back, to give her space. His fangs were aching, his mouth filling with saliva. But the bloodthirst was secondary to the almost puppyish eagerness at being able to hold her again, the anticipation of making her come, and the few minutes of conversation they might share afterwards.
In the sitting room, Chloe settled herself on the settee as if she’d always done this. As if sharing her blood, her warmth, her pleasure, with him was a familiar old routine. How badly Amos wanted it to be true. He froze in the doorway, stricken by a wave of helpless longing. Maybe engaging a blood donor had been a bad idea. The pleasure of live blood from a willing partner was incomparable, but the accompanying feelings were…distressing.
“Amos? Are you alright p>
He gave himself a mental shake, pushing the bleak thoughts away. “Fine. Lost in thought. Sorry about that.” He crossed the room to stand before her, gazing down, swallowing in anticipation. He began to lower himself towards her, but Chloe stopped him with a brief touch against his hand.
Chapter 92
“Wait p>
He froze.
“Sorry if this is really presumptuous, but, um….what if I laid down p>
Amos’s brows drew together as he pictured Chloe stretched out
beneath him while he braced himself over her. It skirted
dangerously close to the true extent of what Amos wanted from her. He tried to find a tactful way of saying so. “I’d have to lean over you.
You might feel…trapped p>
Chloe flushed. “I wouldn’t feel trapped. I trust you p>
Flattered pride left him momentarily speechless.
“And we ended up laying down last time anyway.” Her flush
deepened, but she held his gaze.
His fangs throbbed. His cock twitched. If it hadn’t been two days
since he’d had live blood, he’d already be at half mast.
“So we did,” Amos replied, his voice rough. He cleared his throat.
“However you’re comfortable. I’d stand on my head, if that’s what
you wanted p>
Chloe laughed, a charmingly bubbly sound, her dark eyes glittering
with humor. “That won’t be necessary.” She shifted, drawing her legs
up onto the settee and lowering herself onto her back. She folded
her hands over her abdomen and looked up at Amos expectantly.
Amos gazed down at her, entranced for a moment by the sight of
her. She looked soft and warm and sweet. She was the sunshine he
would never again witness, brought to him instead in the form of a quietly beautiful woman. Chloe was watching him back, he realized,
her gaze soft and unafraid. He needed to touch her, to taste her.
Moving slowly, he eased one knee onto the settee and leaned over
Chapter 92
her, gripping the backrest with one hand and the arm with the other.
Chloe swallowed, drawing his eye to the motion of her throat. Her lips parted, the tip of her tongue sweeping over them, wetting them. The urge to kiss her was almost as strong as the bloodthirst.
Amos brought one hand to her face, gently cupping her cheek. Chloe leaned into his touch, tilting her jaw up, exposing her throat to him. Another wave of sweet longing tore through him. Before he could do or say anything stupid, he lowered his mouth to her throat and bit.
Chloe gasped. Her head fell back, giving Amos even more access
her throat. At the first draw of hot, rich blood, she whimpered.
On the second, she moaned. He felt her hands brush his chest, sliding up and up until she could circle her arms round his neck. Her thighs parted, inviting him to sink between them. Her breathy moans echoed in his ears as her hips rocked against his. His cock responded, thickening and stiffening with each grinding press of her hot, needy cunt. Soon he was rocking against her in return, using his
rigid length to magnify the orgasm his venom was giving her.
Her sobbing breaths had turned rhythmic–some kind of chanting
whisper. My name, he realized with a nearly painful jolt of pleasure.
This soft, warm, intoxicating woman was gasping his name as she
clung to him and climaxed in his arms. It was too much–the sound
of her, the feel of her, the taste of her. It all built inside of him like
the gathering of thunderclouds. And then like lightning, sharp,
white–hot pleasure chased down his spine and exploded outwards.
For the first time in his immortal life, Amos came while feeding. The
combined pleasure was greater than anything he’d ever felt before.
He lost all sense of himself for a moment, awash only in the
overwhelming bliss. It seemed to go on forever, though it could only
have been a few seconds. When he came back to himself, his fangs
were still buried in Chloe’s throat, her arms still tight around his
neck, her hips still rocking against his.
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