Carpathian 20 - Dark Slayer

gently now, her eyes locked with his. She rocked back on her heels as she finally allowed him to slide from her mouth. Her tongue did a slow, sensual sweep of her full, swollen lips.
    Ivory watched his eyes change, go from that dark midnight blue to a yawning chasm of a deep ocean abyss. So hungry. So focused. All for her. Her heart leapt. Sometimes his hunger could unnerve her, like now, when his body was aggressive and she could feel the steel running through his muscles. It both drew and repelled her, thrilled and frightened her. Razvan was always so in control that when he lost it—as she loved him to—his intensity was terrifying... and rewarding.
    His fist suddenly caught in her hair again to drag her up. He pulled her head back, exposing her neck. Her heart leapt. Every bone melted. She felt the burn in her lungs for air. His teeth sank deep, and sheer ecstasy rushed through her body like a tidal wave, swamping her. Her eyes drifted closed. How could she keep her senses intact when that delicious pleasure spread through her like a wave of heat? He drank from her as if he was starving, drawing the essence of life into his body, as if he might never get enough.
    She loved it when he was just on the edge of his control, his mouth moving over her in a frenzied passion, and the ecstasy she felt was nothing compared to what her body and taste brought him. She loved touching his mind and feeding the chaotic male heat, the need and lust rising so sharp and terrible he could barely keep from devouring her. His teeth were small bites of pain that only added another dimension to the layers of desire and heat spreading and consuming her.
    Every rising it was like this, the need to merge, to feel absolutely one, the heat and fire of their joining. She shuddered with pleasure as he took one last indulgent drink and swept his tongue across the pinpricks to close the small wound. His mouth suckled there for a moment, marking her, a further indulgence he’d never taken before. She felt . . . part of him. Part of his heart. Part of his soul.
    His tongue licked at the ruby-red droplets of blood trailing down her throat to her breast. His tongue flicked her nipple and she sucked in her breath, but her hands caught his head to restrain him. Yet there was no restraining Razvan in his present mood. He growled something and took her breast into his mouth, biting down on her nipple and tugging until she cried out with pleasure.
    He suckled strongly, ravaging her body, making it his. He took his pleasure from her, yet gave her back tenfold, as if he, too, knew, this could be their last time together. Neither voiced it, neither acknowledged it, but when he took her to the floor of the chamber, she was every bit as frantic as he was.
    Her hands moved over his back, her nails digging deep as he laved her breast, sending those delicious flashes of lightning streaking through her. His tongue flicked at her hard peak with hot, slow licks that sent her mind reeling. His mouth took on a rhythmic motion that matched the push of his hips against hers. She could feel the hard length of him lying like a brand along her thigh. Each drag of his body along hers just made him grow hotter and thicker.

    Electricity seemed to arc over their skin, sparks of arousal as she gasped for breath. He was switching back and forth, a man possessed, teeth and tongue and hot mouth driving her senseless. There was nothing in her world but Razvan, his hard body, his male scent of sin and sex filling the air around her, burning in her lungs in place of air.
    He lifted his head, small flames burning through the piercing blue of his eyes. “Take my blood, Ivory. Now . Right now.―
    He lifted her with hard hands, fitting her on his lap, facing him, straddling him, so that she felt the hard length of him, aggressive and hot, against her wet, slick opening. His harsh gasps just drew her further under his spell. She felt mesmerized when he was like this, so desperate for the taste and touch of her. His hands never stopped moving over her skin, claiming every inch of her for his own. She loved the thrill of being his.
    She lifted her head to lick over his chest and up to his throat.
    His stomach rippled. Bunched. His shaft, that terrible, wonderful steel spike, throbbed and pulsed against her thigh, waiting for an opportunity. She licked her lips. Tasted him. His essence. Let him feel what that did to her, deep in her mind—in her