Hello and welcome to the WEEKEND. Yes, you’ve made it to that wonderful day of the week where you can lay in bed (maybe?), get a cup of coffee delivered to your bedside table and smooze around reading naughty blogs. Speaking of naughty… this week’s theme is THEIR SEXY TALK.
Dancing With Death – the prequel to ‘Desiring Death’ is free 27/28th March. Grab yourself a copy by clicking on the picture above 😉
‘Do you want to talk?’
‘I think we already covered that at the bar.’ The stranger didn’t even turn around to glance at her.
She knew she should have just walked straight back the way she came as his surly remark hit home, but like a moth drawn to a decidedly enticing, guttering flame she couldn’t help but try one last time. ‘What do you want?’
‘I want to fuck the hell out of you.’
Violetta was not a particularly quiet woman, but he’d thrown her a massive curve ball and it seemed she’d swallowed the thing. It took her several seconds before she could suck in air.
‘What did you say?’ Her voice was incredulous.
‘If you want a repeat performance, you have to beg. That goes for the sentence and the sex.’ He kicked off his shoes, letting them sail away in the water beneath him. He then removed his black blazer and let it go the same way.
‘You’re mad,’ she whispered, her feet already backing up behind her. At least one part of her body was sensible, Violetta thought.
There was a sharp thud and she watched as he buried the small knife he’d been playing with deep into the timber decking. There was a dull twang as the thing vibrated rapidly at the impact and then silence resumed. She bit her lip and wondered absently why she was not running away as fast as her legs would carry her, but it was already too late. In the next instance he was up on his feet and striding purposefully towards her. His fingers were already unbuttoning his shirt, revealing tempting glimpses of the tantalisingly hard flesh beneath and she felt her feet automatically backing up until they reached the edge of the planks.
‘There’s nowhere else to go, Violetta,’ he drawled, as he came within a hairbreadth’s length of touching her. He brought his fingertip underneath her chin and tilted her face upwards to meet his.
‘How do you know my name?’ Violetta looked up at him, and there was a mixture of angst and desire in her gaze. It was difficult to know which was stronger. One thing was for certain, he seemed to have all the right cards in his hand and she wanted to know why.
‘That’s the least of your worries, precious. What you should be asking is: ‘How do I know every move you’re going to make, seconds before you do?’ The flat of his hand reached down to slap her left knee away, the one that had been about try and find a soft spot around his groin area. The knee landed back on the wooden deck with a considerable thump and she felt herself wobble precariously.
‘How in the hell…’ Her shocked words left her lips and were instantly cut-off as she felt herself falling backwards. Her hands floundered helplessly at his naked chest, but there was nothing she could grab onto for purchase and as her heel skidded and splintered across the deck, there was the sinking feeling she was way past the point of no return. Preparing to take a deep splosh in the uninviting, wet and salty stuff, she closed her eyes and braced herself for impact.
Amazingly enough, she didn’t end up going for a midnight swim. The impact still happened, but the splosh did not. Mr. Grumpy had managed to save the day by encompassing two tight arms around her body and somehow managing to retain his balance with her heavy weight in his arms.
‘You’re not that heavy,’ he mind-blowingly said, before bringing her face up to meet his.
She hadn’t said that last thought out loud, surely? But if she hadn’t, that would mean the man could read… No. Violetta refused to consider the possibility. She knew of only one creature that could read minds and that would make him a…
‘Vampire.’ He poured the single word into her lips with sultry intent and then all further thought left her. He took her with a fierce, all-consuming hunger and damned if he didn’t recreate the same reciprocal need in her. His lips were soft and he locked them cleverly around hers, whilst his fingers threaded their way through her hair. He gave gentle tugs with his hand, to position her just where he wanted her and the man was good. Here was a beast who knew exactly what he was doing and how to use each and every little action to the best advantage. A hand came up to caress the soft spot directly under her jaw line and as he pressed his chest into her body she wanted to melt. That was a lie. She’d already melted and was little more than a puddle of liquid in his arms. The vamp had skills. His finger was tracing a light path over the top of her lips and she already yearned for the taste of his tongue, thrusting against hers. To encourage and hasten the proceedings, she gently coaxed herself into his mouth and hoped he’d get the message.
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