Demon Night

knees sinking deep. Not her back arching in anticipation of his fingers and mouth when Ethan kneeled behind her.
    But it was her cry of surprise when he buried his cock inside her with a single, hard stroke. She snapped into herself, panting his name, her hands fisting.
    Never before had he come into her without readying his way. Even when they’d been frantic with desire, even though she’d begged and assured him he didn’t need to give her so much attention—he’d always taken his time.
    Now he was just taking her .
    But there was nothing frantic about it. Slowly, ever so slowly, he withdrew and slid back in. An erotic wave undulated through her, concentrated in her slick inner flesh, where sensation began and ended. Charlie muffled her tortured moan, biting folds of white cotton.
    Fire slipped over her skin as his palms traveled up the length of her body, journeyed down her arms. His hands covered hers, his chest hot against her back. He pushed forward.
    Colors danced in front of her eyes, settled into the swirling lightning-bright rapture of his possession. He was touching every possible inch of her skin. Never before. They’d been like this so many times, but always it was the thrusting of his hips, raw and powerful. His hands pinning hers or sweeping her to new heights. But the rest of him he’d held away, as if afraid with too much contact he’d lose control.
    And she’d gloried in everything he’d given—but this was heaven. He stroked into her with the whole of his body, his chest rough over the slickness of her back. His mouth and his breath heated a path from her neck to her temple with each deliberate thrust.
    Taking, touching, silent. All giving the appearance of control.
    But he’d lost it.
    He’d lost it. The realization tore through her, her nerves screaming with excitement. She couldn’t keep still, couldn’t be quiet. His name spilled from her, rising and falling.
    He released her hand; she reached back, cupped the nape of his neck. She tried to twist, searching for his lips. His fingers found her nipple instead, taut and aching.
    And he continued sliding into her, thick and hard, ceaselessly.
    Mindless with the ecstasy of it, she let her head fall forward and looked down the length of her body. Watched his big hand flatten over her belly. She bowed her back, angling her hips to see him slowly sink into her, to see his fingers begin their virtuoso play over her clitoris.
    His name locked in her throat. Her arms trembled. She couldn’t withstand this. Her eyes closed, and she heard the wetness of her body, the pounding of Ethan’s heart. Her labored breathing. Tension held her tight, though Ethan was warming and loosening everything inside her.
    But she didn’t want to break apart yet. Not without his blood. He always wanted her to use his; it was the only thing he asked for himself.
    “Ethan.” It was barely a whisper. “ Let me. ”
    His voice was rough, his lips against her ear. “Tell me what you need, Charlie.”
    He held himself there, as if waiting for her answer; she couldn’t give him one. He’d stopped his long, slow movements, but ground against her, tiny circular digs that left her gasping with small, sobbing breaths. He caught her engorged clit between two fingers, began sliding them around it, mimicking the motion his cock wasn’t performing.
    She couldn’t scream. Charlie reared back and Ethan pulled her upright, her nails cutting into his nape, her knees spread wide on the mattress, her back arched in front of him. It was impossible to control her hips, and they swung in tiny erratic jerks from side to side when his hand prevented her from moving them forward.
    “Tell me, Charlie.”
    How could she think? What did she want? “You,” she gasped. “I need you.”
    “You’ve fed with my blood.” He cupped her jaw, held her seeking mouth away from his. “You can come with your own. Why do you need me?”
    It was welling, but she held it in. Her eyes filled. His control was gone—yet it was still about her needs, not his. Don’t make me ask you to love me.
    His thumb brushed over her cheekbone. His body hardened into stone behind her. “Damn you, Charlie.”
    His mouth covered hers an instant later. Her lips opened, and he pushed in—but not to kiss. His tongue stabbed her fangs. The sound of him overwhelmed her senses; his fingers stroked furiously as he withdrew and slammed himself into her.
    Oh, God. Nothing had ever been like this. Charlie sucked