Page 56 of Vampire's Choice
He gripped, weighed, stroked. He pressed against her labia, caught and squeezed the petals of flesh. A man hungry for land to call his own, who'd claimed a property and was exploring its terrain, imagining all the potential it would yield to him.
She was already moaning out her pleasure, helpless to do otherwise. “You don't control the pleasure,” he whispered, admonishing her for her tease. “I do.”
He wasn’t using any incubus vibes. She thought about what he’d said earlier, about how it was a part of him. Was he proving he could do this to her without it, even when he wanted to add it into the mix? Or was he saving it for the right moment, to blow her mind?
His fingers targeted the left side of her labia at the base of her clit. Answering her question, an energy slipped off his fingertips, strumming that area. That one limited area, making her undulate against him. He refused to move anywhere else, building the need, making her crazy.
“A woman’s cunt has different zones. Focusing on each, one at a time, can give her so many orgasms. Give her so much pleasure…a feast.”
“For me or you?” she managed, dropping her head back against his shoulder.
“For both.”
The climax rolled up and he pinched her, hard enough to hold her on that shuddering edge. “Ask me for it, Ruth,” he growled in her ear. “Ask me to give you pleasure.”
She scored her lip with her fang, thrashing against him, against that one pinching hold, which only increased her response, the blood pulsing against his fingers. “No.”
“Still trying to say no.”
He returned to playing with and stroking the left labia, bringing her up, stopping her short, bringing her back down.
At Lord Marshall’s, during vampire dinners with William and Matthew, she’d watched human servants endure forced orgasm torture from their vampire masters before dessert, then prolonged orgasm denial afterward.
Merc was a master of those torments as well.
As he kept cutting her on that edge, he kept a tight band around her with his muscled arm, his hand clamped over her shoulder, forearm pressed between her breasts. Like a seatbelt, holding her in place, refusing to let her get out or escape the need building higher and higher. She was moaning, pleading without words.
“I can do this all night. You are…delicious.”
He was taking small sips of her energy, absorbing it, but he wasn’t taking a meal. But she suspected if he decided to do so, the longer she delayed the climax, the more of a meal she would give him.
He was holding back for her, because of what she’d said. She was almost sure of it. A dilemma, because she found she liked the idea of nourishing him. Her choice.
“Please.”
He stilled. “Please, what?”
“Please…take. Feed.”
He didn’t respond to that. Not immediately. Instead he put her through another hundred close calls, yanking her back from the edge every time she was about to topple over it.
“Will you hold back your climax until I have drunk enough from you to be satisfied?”
That could be hours, days. She heard the threat of it in his voice. He wanted to test her, wanted to know how deep she’d tear into herself to obey him. He wanted to know what kind of submissive she was.
She wanted to know, too.
“Yes.” Tears were on her face. She knew if he took her down that road, she’d work harder than she’d ever worked to resist the pleasure her body was screaming for.
Because he wanted her to do it.
Merc closed his hand fully on her labia and clit, squeezing them in his large hand with proprietary intent. She cried out, startled, as he whispered in her ear.
“Come for me. Right now. Don’t refuse me.”
The unexpected change in direction broke her control. The climax slammed through her, her body jerking against him. His hand covered her mouth so she could scream out her pleasure without worry the entire Circus would hear.
Then his other wrist was against her mouth.