Page 83 of Blood Match
She moans into my mouth, arms twining around my neck as she presses against me, her mound grinding against the hard ridge of my cock.
She feels so damned good…but not good enough. I want more. I want it all.
Lifting her up, I hook her calves over my hips and clasp her ass in both hands. She gasps in surprise, but desire glitters in her eyes.
In two long strides, we’re at the dining room table nearby. Sweeping it clear with one hand, I bend forward and lay her back on the hard surface, her hair spilling over the edge like a curtain of silk. Her legs fall open, framing my hips, exposing her bare thighs as her dress rides up.
Standing between her legs, I stare down at her. My witch. My life source. My obsession.
Fuck. That’s what this is turning into.
Obsession.
I’m so damned screwed.
I can’t take my eyes off her. Her lips are kiss-swollen, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she pants for breath.
“Oh, God, Darick.” Rowan’s breathless groan increases my possessive need to stake my claim.
Reaching down, I cup a breast in one hand while the other works magic, pushing her dress further up to reveal the lace fabric of her panties. She’s soaked. My gaze flickers to her face, noting her half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks.
Her hips buck as I touch her, a breathy little whimper hissing past her lips. At the sight of her, a thrill of want rockets through my body, settling in a place deep in my groin. I cup her pussy, feeling her heat through her panties.
“Is this what you want, Rowan?” I ask, my thumb circling her clit, feeling the wet fabric over it. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”
She’s trembling, caught between shame and need.
“P-please,” she stammers, her inhibitions crumbling. “I need to feel you.”
“Who do you need to feel?” I command roughly. The thought of that male’s lips on her cheek raises a wave of possessiveness.
“You… Dar-Darick,” she stutters, losing her grasp on the syllable as need pulls her under.
I push her dress up further, so it exposes her breasts, and tug on her bra strap to lower it over her shoulders. The thin lace does little to hide the pebbled peaks of her nipples.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, my tone softening. My eyes rake over her skin, flushed with need; she’s biting her lip. Her cheeks are stained pink, pupils blown wide. The force of the connection between us is so strong I keep expecting to see it. It crackles in the air, pulls me closer, makes me ache with something more than lust.
Rowan whimpers, her eyes fluttering shut as my fingertips drag along the seam of her pussy. She lifts her hips, craving more contact, anything to calm the fever raging in her veins.
Goosebumps spread over her skin as my fingers inch closer, skimming the edge of her panties. “Yes…” she whispers. “Yes, there…”
I push her panties aside. Rowan’s head falls back, her mouth open on a soft gasp. She’s exposed to me now, slippery wetness glistening. I have to force myself not to dive in and taste her. To savor this moment. Her breath catches as my fingertip traces slow, torturous circles around the lush flesh of her pussy.
“God, you’re so wet,” I almost groan. She’s so ready for my mouth. My cock.
Her hips start to buck as I tease the swollen bundle of nerves hidden beneath the folds. Too soon. I want to torment her, draw out the sweet little sounds and pleas for more.
“Oh, God!” she bites out. “Darick, I need—”
“Rowan?” a voice from the doorway has me snapping my head around to face the sound. “Rowan, are you in there, dear?”
What the fuck?
“Shit! Gran!” Rowan squeaks, scrabbling at the surface of the table as she tries to push herself up. “Shit, shit, shit!”
I step back as she fumbles to pull her dress down and slides off the table.
“Well, that’s…inconvenient,” I murmur. She makes a choking sound. She doesn’t look at me as she tries awkwardly to adjust her bra beneath her dress. I reach forward to straighten the strap, and she bats my hands away.