Carpathian 18 - Dark Possesion

pressure on her most sensitive spot, and she nearly fragmented right there, but his hands dropped to her hips and locked her down tight on him, preventing movement. His gaze held hers. Hot. Aroused. Glittering. The intensity sent another wash of heat rolling through her. Commanding.
    She knew what he wanted. The idea should have filled her with fear, or dread, or even disgust, but instead, it excited her, excited her wolf. She could feel her teeth, sharp now, pressing her for a taste of him. Manolito.
    The other half of her soul. He slid one palm under her hair until his fingers could curl around the nape of her neck and pull her down to his chest. Seated on him, her body throbbing with pleasure, she licked at the spot just above his heart.
    The rush of his blood through his veins called to her. His male scent. The musky scent of the wolf and the heady fragrance of sex in the air—all combined to make her head spin. Her tongue darted out again, flicked over his skin. His cock gave an answering jerk. Her muscles tightened around him. She waited, listening to the steady beat so close to her ear. Rapid. Excited. Anticipating.
    Her teeth sank deep, and the taste of him, the incredible gift of life, flowed into her. His harsh breathing deepened. His cock thickened, stretching, invading, sending fiery waves through her body. Her muscles spasmed, and he groaned, adding to her heightened pleasure. He tasted—like power. Hot and sweet and filled with sex. Who would have thought he could taste so good?
    His body began to move in hers. Long, slow strokes, almost lazy. Steel encased in velvet riding between her legs, thick and long and driving her slowly insane. He was everywhere. In her. On her. Flooding her mouth, her body, enveloping her in a cocoon of love. His hands urged her hips up so that she concentrated on the fiery sensations as he nearly retreated completely. Then he forced her back down, holding her to the lazy pace so she could take enough for a true exchange.
    The ride was the most sensual she'd ever had. His hands slid over her bottom, massaged, made small circles, stroked the long, velvety line between her buttocks, and then he'd urge her up again, in that slow, lazy rhythm. She moaned and swept her tongue across his chest to close the small wound. Her muscles were pulsing around his shaft and her breath came in gasping sobs. She looked down into his eyes.

    He was staring back at her. Manolito De La Cruz. His eyes were the blackest of night in color, with streaks of amber, like small lightning bolts. And she could drown in the amount of love she found there. He didn't try to hide it, wasn't in the least shy about letting her see.
    He held her hips and did a long, slow circle as he brought her down, so that the breath was driven from her body and the tight knot of nerves screamed at the intense sensation. Her stomach rippled with the fiery burst and her womb spasmed.
    "Of course I love you. How could you not know?"
    Her throat ached and tears burned behind her eyes. "I never thought I'd find you. I never thought I'd feel a love like this of my own."
    "I will make certain you feel it with every breath you take," he said. Tightening his fingers on her hips, he drove his hips upward, filling her so full she cried out his name, her nails digging into his shoulders.
    She thrust back against him, driving down, her body shuddering as mind-numbing pleasure exploded through her, as she felt his brutal release, the sudden swelling, the hot release so deep inside triggering wave after wave until she fell forward into his arms, exhausted, lying on him, locked to him, unable to move.
    He held her to him, his lips in her hair, staring up at the crystal ceiling. "I have lived for centuries, MaryAnn, and never once did I believe it would happen to me. I don't think any of us really believe it will happen."
    There wasn't enough air in her lungs to speak, so she pressed kisses to his throat, and then laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes, listening to the rhythm of his heart.
    "I've looked into my heart and soul, and honestly, I think a man of our species is meant to claim his lifemate regardless of whether or not she is in love with him. I have destroyed so many vampires, and I think, given the choice of becoming wholly evil, murdering and preying on the innocent, or staking my claim and allowing my lifemate time to grow to love me—I believe it is the only recourse open to us."
    She patted his chest. "Perhaps you