Demon Night

himself not to succumb as her heightening arousal spiked his blood.
    She began moving. Her knuckles ground into his shaft on each downward stroke of her hips. Painful, but mostly because it wouldn’t let him forget how badly he wanted to be inside her, to be the one fulfilling her need.
    Her left hand searched out his chin, his mouth. Though desperate for any taste, he fought the temptation to suck her middle fingers in and stroke his tongue to the same tempo of her hand between her legs.
    Her pace increased, and Ethan reckoned he was going to plumb lose his mind. She was sweating now, leaning in against his chest. Her nipples repeatedly kissed his skin in a cool, wet path that matched the rise and fall of her body. Beads of perspiration fell against the back of his neck, icy drops that trickled beneath his collar.
    He nearly wept with relief when tremors ran through her. She tensed and arched, her hips coming off of him but her mouth still fastened to his throat, her palm slapping flat against the door beside his face.
    His hands tightened on her waist, held her as she barreled through the orgasm, gritted his teeth against the amplified wave of pleasure that rushed into his body.
    Two more icy drops fell and rolled down the back of his neck.
    Horror gripped him. “Charlie?”
    She made a panicked noise low in her throat.
    The bloodlust still hadn’t released her—hadn’t released him. Ethan ran his hands up her spine, fighting the desire so that his touch wouldn’t ask too much. He pitched his voice to soothe. “You’ll be all right. It’ll break soon. You’re just newly transformed and hungry.”
    Her tears were a steady stream down his back in the following minute; then the bloodlust finally freed her. She lifted her head, gasping with sobbing little breaths, wiping at her mouth.
    “Ethan.” Her face was stricken when she pulled back. She cushioned his cheeks between her hands, her moist eyes frantically searching his. “Are you okay? I just—I couldn’t stop—”
    “I know, Miss Charlie.” Concern melted through her psychic scent; his chest swelled, and he thought his heart actually skipped a beat. He smoothed his hand down the windblown tangle of her hair, from her crown to the middle of her back. Her features had lost the skinny, haunted look. “And I’m doing just fine.”
    “But…” Her gaze lowered, and he glanced down at her chest. Blood smeared her golden skin—and over his, darkening the edge of his shirt. “Oh, Jesus,” she whispered.
    “We got a little messy,” he said easily, and repressed his grimace as he vanished it. He forced himself to look away from her perfect round titties, the tight rosy nipples. “But next time it won’t hit you so bad, and you’ll know better how the blood flows, how fast to drink.”
    “Next time?” Her hands shook against his jaw. “You’re sure I didn’t hurt you? You wouldn’t just say that?”
    He frowned. “Why are you so certain you did?”
    “I heard it.” Her eyes closed briefly. “It wasn’t mine.”
    “Heard what?”
    “Screaming.” She swallowed hard. “Or—that shriek bending metal makes? Only louder.”
    “That doesn’t sound like anything I was feeling.” His frown deepened, and she brushed her thumbs along the sides of his mouth. “When did you hear it? When you first bit me?”
    “No.” Pink tinged her cheeks. “That was good. It was after that.”
    “At the end?” He lifted his hand to her cheek. Her tears had dried.
    “I heard it then, yes,” she rasped. “And during the rest of it.”
    He stiffened. “The whole time? From just after you bit me until you were done?”
    Her lips pressed together and she nodded.
    He’d thought the intensity of the bloodlust had spooked her. But what she’d described sounded more painful than frightening. “Was it hurting you?”
    “Ethan—” She tried to avert her face but he ducked his head and followed. He looked up at her, holding her hair away from her forehead.
    “Miss Charlie.” It was gentle, but undeniably a command. “I can’t help you if I don’t know.”
    She slapped her palm against his chest, gained a couple of inches until her back came up against his thighs. “It hurt. But it wasn’t me.” Her jaw clenched. “It was separate from…and I couldn’t control either one. Obviously. ”
    The last word carried embarrassment, bitterness, fear.
    She meant the sexual response. Ethan sat up straight again, stared over her head. How could he not