That startled her. She’d never received more than hurried, chaste pecks from men. Nothing that prepared her for his hot mouth on hers.
He lifted her, just enough to allow his lips to slant sensuously over hers. He coaxed her mouth open, the way he did in his dreams. In her dreams, it was so shockingly intimate to kiss with her mouth wide. But the reality was even more scorching and sinful and perfect.
His tongue slid in, filling her mouth with heat and pressure and taste.
She loved it. She pushed forward. Stopped short.
Fangs
.
She pulled back.
The hurt in his eyes speared her heart.
Impulsively, Althea arched up and slid her hands around his strong neck. She’d never done Blood Red by Sharon Page ©2006 Advance Reader Copy www.SharonPage.com 21
this—never claimed a kiss, not even in her dreams. In the dreams, he always took her. She was always the one lured and seduced and possessed.
She had no idea how to kiss.
Pushing aside fear, she let hunger guide her. She moved her mouth over his, pressing hard, then softly, shifting as he did, savoring his mouth. The earl possessed a heat she’d never known, an intimate taste she couldn’t define.
His tongue slid in again and tangled with hers. He kissed her until her wits whirled. Until she understood he would kiss her all night. He kissed her as he tugged the ribbon from her braid and threaded his fingers through her hair. Kissed her as he yanked open the belt of her wrapper and slid it off her shoulders. And kissed her hard as he flicked the first small buttons of her nightdress from their loops, exposing her throat, her chest, the upper curves of her breasts.
She gripped his broad, solid shoulders, her tongue now deep in his hot, delicious mouth.
She felt the points of his retracted fangs but forced herself not to retreat.
She wanted to show trust…even if she wasn’t certain she could trust.
Shadows lengthened as the moonlight disappeared, plunging them into a velvety dark.
Althea knew the earl could see her but she was blind and she clung to him more tightly. He pulled her closer, until her breasts pressed against his chest and her hard nipples poked bands of solid muscle, beneath hot skin and coarse curls.
His hands slid down to her bottom. Scandalously, he squeezed generous portions of her flesh with both his big hands and chuckled with masculine pleasure into her mouth.
He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, “What a perfect plump arse you have,”
before he captured her mouth again.
Gripping her cheeks, his lordship lifted her, slid his leg between hers, and lowered her so she straddled him.
Oh God, she wore nothing under her nightgown. His naked thigh rubbed her naked nether lips and she blushed as her wetness coated his skin.
He gave another chuckle, this one filled with pride. Just as in her dreams, he was terribly pleased with himself. She was soaking wet, embarrassingly so.
As though he sensed her shyness, he lavished soft, sweet kisses on her eyebrows and lashes, her nose and cheeks, her forehead, her chin, until she giggled helplessly.
He rocked his leg and the pressure felt so good. She let her head loll back as his hot mouth pressed to her throat.
She stiffened and pulled away. “Are you going to bite me?”
Did I ever bite you in a dream?
“No, you didn’t but—” Althea broke off before she said ‘the other man.’ She couldn’t—
absolutely couldn’t—say out loud that she had dreamed of another man and him.
“No, angel. I’m not going to bite you. But I do want to taste you. Savor every delectable inch of you.” His lips skated down her throat, his tongue licked in the hollow. All the while, his thigh rubbed and rubbed. A wicked hunger blossomed there. He made her throb and she felt as though she floated in air, as though she could fly. Shift shape as he did, spread newfound wings, and soar.
But his hand in her nether curls brought her sharply to earth. He’d slipped his other into the bodice of her nightdress. He cradled her breast, the heel of his hand pressed to her pounding Blood Red by Sharon Page ©2006 Advance Reader Copy www.SharonPage.com 22
heart. He stroked her curls, dipping his finger lower, into her moisture.
She should stop. Must stop. Or was it far too late? Would he let her stop?
Angel, I will stop when you wish.
“You read my mind!”
Only the signals of your body. Your tension. The startled look in your eyes. I am your
servant tonight, love. I do only as you desire.
His finger stayed at the very apex of her sex. Althea fought the desire to tip her hips up, to coax him to slide his finger inside her.
“I don’t believe you!” she exclaimed in a whisper, even though she ached for more.
And why not, my sweet?
“Because you are a man and every woman knows what a man wants. And because—”
What did you enjoy most in our dreams, Althea? What do you want me to do to you?
Yes, she’d done all these things in dreams. But she couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t say such things.
His tongue dipped into the valley between her breasts
. Did you enjoy my mouth on your
nipples
?
“My lord, I—”
“Yannick.”
He was speaking aloud, not communicating in her mind, and she felt strangely relieved. She clung to the safer topic of conversation—his Christian name. “It’s French isn’t it?”
“You want a French kiss?”
He was teasing, she knew, but she couldn’t imagine what a French kiss would be. “Your name is French.”
“My mother was French, love, with an English marriage to save her from Madame la Guillotine. And de Wynter goes back to the Conqueror.” His lord—Yannick’s leg lowered but he scooped her into his arms before her slippers touched the floor. “And I believe you would enjoy a French kiss.”
Only when he laid her on her bed, when he slid the long skirt of her nightgown up to the tops of her thighs, when he bent and touched his lips to her nether curls, did Althea realize what a French kiss was.
This they had never done in dreams. He had touched her intimately with his fingers, with his…his cock, but not with his mouth.
“You can’t kiss my…there.”
“Your sweet cunny. Oh yes, I can. And I will. I never did this for you in your dreams?”
She frowned. “Don’t you know? Didn’t you have the dreams too?”
“I don’t know if we had the same dreams, sweet angel.” To her shock, he breathed deeply.
Drank in her scent. Smiled. “I was most remiss if I never kissed your delicious cunny.”
“That’s what you call it? That crude word?”
Yannick was on his knees on the floor now, gazing up at her from between her thighs. His pale blond hair spilled over his brow, dusted across his darkly lashed eyes. His fingers stroked her inner thighs and Althea could barely think.
Blood Red by Sharon Page ©2006 Advance Reader Copy www.SharonPage.com 23
His brow quirked. “What would you prefer, then, love? Quim? Pussy? Velvet glove?
Pleasure passage? Silken sheath? Grotto of love?”
“Grotto of—?” She stared down at him in disbelief, then dissolved into giggles.
He flashed a playful frown, screened by her auburn curls. She caught her breath at the intimacy of their teasing. How could she be joking with a man—an earl and a vampire!—who had her most private places exposed to him?
He gave an audacious wink. “Women do not generally laugh when I do this.”
He traced the tip of his tongue over her curls. Her hands clenched into fists. She almost shot up right off the bed. His hot breath breezed over a terribly sensitive place and she quivered.
Do you wish me to stop?
“Y—Yes.”
“Are you certain?” He blew across her nether lips and she knew he would
not
stop. In dreams, he knew to make her melt until she could refuse nothing.
And he was a peer after all. Accustomed to having his own way.
Althea tried to say “yes” once more but her mouth would not cooperate. She truly did not want him to stop. Slowly, she shook her head. Willed the word
no
at him. Gasped in shock as he pressed his mouth tight to her mound.
Oh yes. Yes.
She cried it in her head
.
As you command, love
. He suckled.
She screamed.
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Her cry of pleasure echoed in the small room, igniting his lust, calling forth Yannick’s fangs. They extended, lengthening like his cock, until they lapped his lower lip.
With the greatest care, mindful of the sharpness of his curved canines, Yannick flicked out his tongue to brush the very tip of her clit.
“Oooh!” Althea arched beneath him, as though struck by an electric charge.
A knock sounded on the wall, followed by O’Leary’s concerned Irish lilt. “Miss Yates?”
She stared down at Yannick, obviously horrified. With his face buried against her wet pussy, he feigned a look of innocence. Then flicked out his tongue and made her scream again.
“Miss Yates?” The rap was sharper, the voice more insistent. Yannick hoped O’Leary wasn’t ready to burst into Althea’s room.
Althea found her voice. “So sorry, Mr. O’Leary,” she croaked. “I am fine. It was only a bad dream.”
Oh, am I?
Yannick tangled his fingers in Althea’s crisp curls, stroking the satin-soft skin beneath them.
Gently, he laid a kiss at the very peak of her vulva, tasting the droplets gathering there. Her quim shone with her moisture, soaked, swollen and ready for him. And her scent…his head swam with it. Lush, sweet, ripe.
He slid his tongue down, down until he brushed her clit once more. But this time she was prepared. She fisted her hands in her wrinkled sheets, sank her teeth in her lips, and rode through the explosion of sensation with nary a whimper.
She was adorable. Delightful.
He felt like a devil, stroking the top of her pearl, where it would be far too sensitive for her.
Her clit had never been touched and he should concentrate on drawing his tongue along the sides. She was too tense to come this way but he couldn’t resist teasing her.
Yannick loved to watch her arch up with each light brush of his tongue. Loved to see her hair rippling about her like a pool of flame. Loved the long, white curve of her neck and the way her tempting throat moved with each whimpered moan.
Magically, with Althea, he could control the urge to bite.
He circled with his tongue and her fingers sank into his hair. As she gripped his head tight.
“Oh, no…please, stop.”
He sucked once more, lightly.
Her hips launched up at him and with the surge, she tried to break free of his grip. She Blood Red by Sharon Page ©2006 Advance Reader Copy www.SharonPage.com 25
fought to scramble back, to push away, but he held her thighs and spread her wide.
Althea’s eyes went wide, too. Startled. Almost frightened. “You mustn’t. It’s too much. I can’t bear it.”
“I’ll be gentle with your clit, angel. I promise.” Guilt shot through him. He shouldn’t have teased. As the man to introduce her to pleasure, he had certain responsibilities.
This time he laved her clit gently, until her tension dissolved and she relaxed into the bed with a throaty groan. For a few glides of his tongue, she lay, passive, lids shrouding her lovely green eyes. Her bosom rose and fell and he heard the softest sighs tumble from her pursed lips, his name carried to him on one.
Her hands covered her breasts. Not in modesty. She fondled herself, gripping and kneading the lush mounds through the bodice of her nightgown.
His fangs and cock throbbed as he watched her through her thick nest of curls.
He could love her this way for hours—until dawn at least.
But soon, she lifted her hips, rocking them against his face. Tentative, as though she didn’t understand quite why she needed to move to him. She was so sweet, so new. Was it possible this was her first orgasm, other than those in her dreams? Yannick couldn’t remember his first, but imagined it must have been searing. Life-changing.
It was his duty to ensure she received no less.
Her hips became more demanding and pumped harder against his face. He matched her natural rhythm, the flat of his tongue sliding around her hard, quivering clit.
Althea’s hand skimmed down across her belly and clutched at the hem of her nightgown.
Yannick released her thighs, saw the red imprints of his fingers as his hands joined hers. Small, delicate hands—hard to imagine them plunging a stake into his heart, but he didn’t doubt she could do it.
He helped her draw the gown up until it bunched at her waist. He traced her smooth, softly curved belly. Dipped his finger into her small, shadowed navel. Ran his palm along the generous flare of her hips.
Lovely, womanly. And his. His to enjoy, to pleasure, to treasure.
If only for a few nights.
The benefit to speaking in her mind? He could communicate without ever once lifting his tongue from her slick, musky quim.
Gentle enough, love?
“Perfect,” she gasped. “Wonderf—Oooh!”
I want to make you come, Althea, just as you do in your dreams. I want to make you come
again and again…
He cupped her buttocks and lifted her to his mouth. Feasted on her.
“Oh God!”
Her honey dripped from her now and he slipped his thumb into her quim to stir her. Fiery hot and drenched, her walls clutched him tight.
She was pure, utterly pure, giving herself to him.
It humbled him and he was a man rarely cowed.
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He withdrew his thumb, slid two fingers into her, reaching as far as her barrier. Her cunny gripped him tight and his cock jolted upward in hope.