“More! Misha, please. Harder!”
He grunted and complied eagerly. His weight lowered onto her, pinning her to the mattress and holding her in place for his thrusts. His arms slipped beneath hers and clamped onto her shoulders, pressing her body hard into his pounding thrusts.
Her entire body spasmed. Her neck bowed, shoving her head back into her pillow. Her body arched beneath him, trying to fuse them together so she would never be empty again.
He moved in a blur of motion, racing with her toward orgasm. Her body fluttered around his, and he groaned. He lowered his head, and she felt his forehead press against her chest. A thin sheen of moisture slicked both their skins, and they rubbed together so hotly she knew they would spark at any moment.
Harder and harder he thrust, faster and faster until she couldn’t hope to keep pace. She stopped moving and, instead, braced her feet against the mattress and held her hips high and hard against his. His thrusts became shorter and faster, and he rubbed hard against her clit with every motion. The tension coiled inside her, and she choked on her own breath. Her inner muscles clamped down hard until he had to force himself free of her grasping muscles.
“Come for me,” he grunted. “Now.”
With a shriek, she obeyed. Her mind went blank, and she swore her heart stopped. Frankly, she couldn’t have cared less.
The pleasure ripped through her, as brutal as their mating itself, wringing her of all feeling until she collapsed limp beneath him.
Three short, hard thrusts later he followed, shouting his pleasure to the ceiling while he pumped her full of his seed.
Reggie lay motionless, waiting for awareness and sensation to return to her well-used body.
My God. I think I’m dead, she mused, too tired to get worked up about it. He fucked me to death.
Not yet, milaya, he chuckled. But there’s always next time.
Chapter 7
Dmitri lay on his side, watching Regina sleep. After their first intense mating, he had quickly untied her bonds and removed her confining corset. Nude and exhausted, she had cuddled close, settling her soft, warm frame against his side and slipping into sleep as easily as a toddler.
That had been hours ago, and ignoring his renewed hunger for her had become almost impossible.
He brushed a silky tendril of hair off her cheek, rubbing his knuckles against the velvet-smooth surface of her skin. He’d never seen anything so beautiful as his Regina, naked and bound, or naked and orgasmic, or naked and asleep, with her knees curled up toward her chest and her hands pillowed beneath her cheek.
He felt an intense sense of satisfaction at having made her his. While the hunt had been brief, he felt none of the boredom that usually followed close on the heels of a conquest. Instead of feeling sated with her, he’d found possessing her only whetted his appetite. Hence, the enormous erection he sported at that very moment.
Shifting closer to her, Dmitri curled around Regina’s body and wrapped his arm about her, resting his palm flat against her pelvis. He pressed her back against his hips until his erection nestled between her cheeks.
She murmured something unintelligible and shifted against him. Finding a comfortable spot, she drifted back to sleep.
Dmitri savored the feel of her body in his arms. He nuzzled his face against her neck, breathing deeply of her scent. She smelled of honey and musk and desire, the warmth of her skin carrying the scent to his appreciative nose. Good enough to eat, and Dmitri suddenly felt very hungry.
His tongue traced the shell of her ear, teased the small hollow below, and she rewarded him with a sleepy murmur of pleasure. His arms wrapped more tightly around her, the hand on her stomach tilting her pelvis back against him while he lifted her leg in his other hand and draped her thigh on top of his.
She sighed and tilted her head slightly to give him better access while he nibbled his way down her throat to the warm, scented curve where her neck met her shoulder.
“Misha.”
She whispered his name in her sleep, and he growled, a low, possessive rumble of triumph and lust. He had to have her again.
His hand slid from her thigh up to cup around her breast. He squeezed the soft weight, pinching his fingers around the nipple and causing it to harden into a rosy nub. She murmured and pressed back against him.
He arched her hips further, canting them up until he could nudge against her entrance. His hand slid down, combing through her neatly trimmed curls to delve between her soft thighs. Her folds parted softly for him, and he tested her readiness with the tips of his first two fingers. She dripped with desire, more than ready for his possession. He shifted his hand up until it cupped over her lower stomach, only the tip of the middle finger still parting her and pressing against the focus of her arousal.
He pinched her nipple hard between thumb and finger, simultaneously pressing down on her clit and breaching her tender entrance with his erection.
He knew the instant when she woke, felt her tense around him and whimper, her passage clenching while its abraded walls tried to relax enough to admit him. He watched her face carefully, searching for signs of real distress. Her brow furrowed, though her eyes never opened, and she bit her lower lip, her skin flushing delicately. She made no move to stop him, so he continued, patiently but inexorably forcing his way in to the hilt. She moaned.
“Easy, dushka,” he whispered, kissing the side of her neck and rubbing small circles around her clit. “You can take me. Slowly, slowly. That’s my girl.”
When he slowed to a stop, her body rippled around him and then eased, hugging his cock in a silky, wet embrace.
“Misha,” she sighed.
He kissed her temple and touched his tongue to the dark curve of her lashes resting against her cheek. He cupped her breast and her hips closer against him and began to move.
He eased in and out of her with long, smooth strokes, loving the way she clasped about him, the tightness of her body like a virgin’s surrounding him. He knew it had been several months since she’d broken up with some little insect of a man who polluted her mind like an oil spill, and from reading her thoughts, he knew they had ceased to be intimate long before the relationship ended. Judging by the way she closed so tightly around him, he guessed she had taken no other man to her bed since.
The thought gave him a savage sense of satisfaction. He hated that Regina had ever taken another man into her body, but now he would make sure he was the last who would ever feel her warm, eager welcome.
Concentrating on the pleasure she gave him, Dmitri quickened his thrusts, urging his cock more forcefully into her. She whimpered, reaching one arm back to curl around his neck, holding him close to her. She turned her head and parted her lips, rooting blindly for his kiss.
He took her mouth as he took her body, with gentle force, ruthless control, and an overwhelming sense of inevitability. He adored the taste of her, sweet and warm and spicy, like honey and cinnamon and the unique flavor that was Regina. He teased her tongue and tickled the roof of her mouth, urging her to play with him. She responded eagerly, sucking at his tongue, drawing him deeply within her, just as she drew his body into her tight heat. Dmitri groaned low in his throat, the sound like a growl, and thrust his hips harder against her.
Reggie tore her mouth away from his and turned her face to muffle her moans of pleasure in her pillow. Dmitri pulled it out from under her and scowled.
“No,” he rumbled, sliding his hands to her hips and rolling her onto her belly. “You will not hide the sounds of your pleasure from me. I will hear every breath and every moan I wring from you. Do you understand?”
Reggie braced her hands against the mattress and moaned, tilting her hips to try and take more of him. “Yes, Misha,” she whimpered. “I understand.”
He grunted a response, grabbed her pillow and his, and lifted her hips to slide the support beneath her. The pillows tilted her hips up toward him, and Dmitri’s eyes narrowed in satisfaction at the sight of her bottom elevated for his posse
ssion.
He thrust faster into her, draping his weight along her back to pin her to the mattress. His next deep thrust bumped hard against her cervix, and Reggie’s control snapped. She came, moaning and bucking beneath him.
Dmitri grabbed hard onto her hips and rode out her pleasure, his face buried in the curve of her shoulder. He could hear her pulse beating frantically just beneath her skin, could smell her excitement and her pleasure and the rich scent of her life, warm and vital.
Hunger stirred in him, and he groaned. He had struggled with his desire to taste her during their first, furious mating, but now it surged to life with twice the insistence. He needed to mark her, to take her life force inside of him until she could never part from him again.
Resolute, he slowed his movements inside her just enough to allow him to focus his thoughts on hers. He entered her mind much more gently than he entered her body, less sure of his welcome. She didn’t seem to notice, too wrapped up in her physical senses to attend to the others. It made things much easier for him while he drew a gentle veil over her consciousness. He wanted her to remain tangled in the moment, but not to remember what he was about to do.
When he felt sure she knew nothing else but the feel of his body inside hers, he draped his hard frame over her back and quickened his rhythm, pressing his hips harder against her.
Her spasms drove him wild, and he gave in to his need. With his hips hammering into her with animal savagery, he opened his lips against the tender skin at the seam of her shoulder and sank his fangs into her sweet, pale flesh. He fed, oblivious to all but the taste of her blood in his mouth, the feel of her skin and her flesh and her hot, tight body.
He drew from her like a starving man. The taste of her filled him, overwhelmed him. Sweeter than the honey, hotter than her passion, her blood nourished him like nothing ever had. He felt drunk on her essence. She intoxicated him like vodka, only sweeter. Clearer. More pure. He feared he would never have enough of her, and the thought pierced the fog of his lust. He drew back, his body clenching above hers while her taste overwhelmed him.
He came on a roar, the cry filling the room and echoing off the walls. He pumped into her until he emptied himself and collapsed on top of her, struggling to catch his breath.
She was glorious.
When he regained control of his muscles, Dmitri brushed her hair away from the damp skin of her neck and kissed the spot he’d bitten with reverent tenderness. She remained motionless, and he knew the veil over his actions had held. He murmured her name.
“Regina.”
She sighed and shifted, but made no response. She’d fallen back to sleep.
Dmitri chuckled, unsure if he should be flattered or insulted. Gently disengaging their bodies, he scowled at the loss of her wet heat surrounding him. If he could simply stay inside her for the rest of eternity, Dmitri figured he would live a very happy life.
A glance at the clock told him dawn would come soon, and he sighed. He knew he had to leave her. He could think of nothing more appealing than remaining in her bed and holding her for the rest of the night and all of the next day, but she would not find it easy to adjust to his lifestyle, and he knew crowding her too quickly would likely send her running from him.
He would never allow that to happen.
He sat up in her bed and stretched muscles that ached pleasantly from his exertion. He should leave her before the sight of her tempted him to further exercise.
He kissed her tenderly on the cheek, grinning when she grumbled in her sleep and curled away from him. He had worn her out, and she obviously refused to let him interrupt her sleep for sex yet again.
He had no plans to wake her, no matter how his libido urged him to do so. He would let her sleep for now. He could afford such generosity, because he knew it would not be long before he saw her again.
Brushing her tangled hair off her cheek, he let his hand cup the side of her face while he gazed down at her and slipped his mind into hers. He double-checked his veil and found no trace of memory lingering to tell her what he was or that he had fed from her while they made love. All she would remember was passion and pleasure.
He had to resist the urge to give the pleasure memories an extra boost, just to be safe. Instead, he gave her the thought that he desired her as much as she desired him, that he could not wait to see her again. He molded the thought until it took the proportion of memory, and he could be certain she would heed it. He kissed her once more and stood.
He took a few moments to straighten up, pulling the disarranged sheets back onto the mattress and smoothing them down, tucking Regina inside. He wound up the cords and the blindfold he’d used on her and put away all the other accoutrements of their encounter. If he hadn’t known Reggie’s friends had provided her with these things, he’d have gotten a very different impression of her, he thought, grinning. Reading her mind definitely made things easier.
When the room looked tidy, he pulled on his jeans, draped his shirt over his shoulder, and carried his boots into her living room. He snooped just enough to find one of her business cards, which he pocketed before he finished dressing and let himself quietly out of her apartment. Now that he knew where she worked, he would be able to keep tabs on her during the week while he dedicated his attention to clearing a path for their relationship.
It grated at him, the thought of the snail’s pace he would have to endure while he worked to overcome her natural suspicions of him. He hated the time it would take, wanted to make her officially his now, but he would have things settled so no one could doubt Regina belonged to him—not even Regina.
Chapter 8
Reggie woke Saturday morning with a song in her heart and an ache between her thighs.
Eyelids snapping open, she flew into a sitting position in the middle of her big bed and surveyed the room around her. It looked like he’d never been there.
She blinked, but everything appeared perfectly normal. The room was neat and bright in the light flooding through the two casement windows. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting to see, given that they’d confined their activities to the bed the entire time, but there should have been something. Surely the most amazing night of her life would leave her with some kind of reminder?
Then she stretched, and she discovered exactly where the reminder came from; it lurked in her muscles—every single one of them.
She ached from her neck down, remnants of the bondage as much as the enthusiastic sex. Bringing her arms back to her sides, she rolled her shoulders to loosen the tight muscles and absently rubbed her wrists. They bore no marks, no sign of the ropes that had held her still and spread for Dmitri, but she could still feel the twisted silk against her skin.
She did find marks on her hips, though, dusky impressions that showed where his fingers had bitten into her flesh while he held her still for his pleasure. And hers.
God, what a night!
With a heartfelt sigh, Reggie swung her legs over the side of the bed, stood, and failed to suppress a wince. She hobbled, as bowlegged as a drunken cowboy, into the adjoining bathroom and turned the shower on hot.
Once the pelting water had loosened the worst of her knotted muscles, she shampooed her hair and lathered a loofah with her favorite citrus-scented soap. The familiar fragrance brought memory flooding back.
I love your scent, milaya. Like honey and musk and warm, wet woman.
Even in the heat of the shower, the memory made her shiver. She wondered what would happen when she actually saw him again. The man would be lucky if she didn’t trip him and beat him to the floor…
She froze, dripping lather onto the tile. Would she ever see Misha again?
Oddly enough, Reggie had every confidence that she would. Despite the fact that she’d woken up alone in her bed with not a hair out of place and not a scrap of evidence to prove Dmitri Vidâme even existed, she didn’t doubt for a second that he would come back to her.
Her mind tried to analyze it, recalling that she didn�
�t know where he lived, what he did, or even if Dmitri was his real name, but she didn’t care. She knew with an unshakable faith that her time with Dmitri had been more than a one-night stand.
Operating on autopilot, her mind otherwise occupied, she finished up her shower, wrapped herself in a bath sheet, and headed into the kitchen. She was starving. Apparently, being ravaged within an inch of her life by a mysterious man with psychic powers could really work up an appetite.
Not that she planned to think much about the psychic thing. One step at a time, Reg.
She rummaged around for some food while the coffee brewed. Cereal wouldn’t cut it this morning. Her hands were full of two eggs and a carton of milk when the phone rang, and of course, by the time she managed to set them down without cracking the eggs, her machine had picked up. Reggie reached for the receiver, but yanked her hand back when she heard the voice on the answering machine’s speaker.
“Reggie, it’s Ava. If you’re there, pick up.” Pause. “I’m going to assume that you’re exhausted and still asleep, but if I don’t hear from you by this afternoon, I’m going to call the police. Call me.”
The machine clicked and beeped when the call ended, and the recording stopped. Reggie groaned and groaned again when she saw the rapidly blinking light indicating she had more messages waiting. Bracing herself, she pushed play. All of the messages were from Ava.
Beep. “You better have a damn good reason for sneaking out of the club, Regina Elaina McNeill!” Ava must have called on her cell last night, because Reggie could hear the noise of the club in the background. “Just wait until I get my hands on you!”
Beep. “All right, you get slightly less painful revenge. Missy just said she saw you leave with someone gorgeous. Of course, we have no way of knowing he’s not a serial killer until you call and let us know you’re okay!”
Beep. “The club’s closing in a few and no call. Where are you? You’d better be okay, or I’ll kill you myself.”
One Bite with a Stranger Page 8
