“I have a few more surprises,” she confessed. “I actually went shopping.”
Her blush intrigued him. She liked sex. She was adventurous. He couldn’t imagine what she’d purchased that had her blushing. His cock jerked hard as she pulled his clothes down his legs so he could step out of them.
He caught her hand and tugged until she was on the other side of the long couch. Very slowly he pulled up the long translucent sheath that covered her body. When she stood only in her high heels, garters and stockings with that tiny strip of lace for panties, he stepped back to look at her.
“Do you have any idea how much time I spend thinking about ways to take you?” He turned his finger in a circle, indicating for her to turn around.
She did so. His heart clenched. His cock throbbed and pushed harder against his stomach. Even his balls reacted, feeling tight and hot. He loved the way that little strip of cloth disappeared between her two cheeks. It had to go, but it was hot. He caught at it and jerked, knowing the action forced the strip to rub against her clit.
She caught the back of the couch with both hands and gripped hard, a little cry of pleasure escaping. Giovanni couldn’t wait another minute. He shoved with his foot until her feet were wide apart. Catching the nape of her neck he pushed her head down so she was bent over the back of the couch. He waited, holding her there, admiring the way she looked.
“I don’t want you to move, baby. Stay just like that for me.”
A little groan escaped. “You want to play.”
“I always want to play.”
He rubbed her cheek and then his hand went lower. Found hot liquid. His. He tasted her. Savored her. Devoured her. Spent time painting his name on her with that hot liquid. All the while she pleaded and begged for him to take her. His fingers went deep. His tongue. He drew that honey out of her and striped her with it. When she made that little keening sound that drove him crazy, he took her, plunging deep, holding nothing back, taking her the way he’d always wanted to. She was his woman, his private miracle, and he was going to love her until the end of his days and beyond.
She screamed out her orgasms, one after another until he couldn’t wait one more second. He flew with her, soaring, his body shaking with the strength of his release. It took some time to recover enough to step back and help her out of her shoes, garters and stockings. He left them on the great room floor and carried his bride to their bed.
To his astonishment, there were a few items lying on the bed. He hadn’t bought them so he was fairly certain his woman had. He put her down right on the edge and picked up the nearest little toy. “Baby. Do you have any idea what this is for?”
She nodded, watching him carefully.
“You ever tried this before?”
She shook her head.
Heat swept through him. Joy. He was so damned lucky to have found her. He carefully examined each toy. Three had remote controls. For him. He loved that idea.
“My wedding presents?”
She nodded, looking a little shy. “You like to play. I wanted you to know that I was willing to play with you, however you wanted to.”
There was a pair of handcuffs, fur-lined, but she had realized he wasn’t that into bondage. Her comfort was too important to him and he couldn’t relax enough if she was in bonds. He worried that she might not tell him if she was hurting. But maybe if the cuffs were fur-lined and not tight … The rest of it though … He looked at the toys. She was willing to play whenever and however he wanted.
Dio. His cock was already rising. Apparently just the thought of what he was going to do with those toys was working on him. He wasn’t going to wait until later. “It’s going to be a very long night, Sasha.” Warning her seemed a good idea.
“I’ve been thinking about this from the moment I bought everything. I’m hoping the night is long. I love you, Giovanni Ferraro.”
“I’m so in love with you, Sasha Ferraro.” He didn’t know how he got this lucky but he was going to cherish her forever. His woman.
Keep reading for an excerpt from the next Carpathian novel by Christine Feehan
DARK SENTINEL
Coming September 2018 from Piatkus
Contemplating allowing himself to die made Andor Katona feel a coward. He had never believed that sitting out in the open, waiting to meet the dawn and have the sun fry him was an act of nobility. He—and a very few others—had always believed it to be an act of cowardice. Yet here he was, deliberating whether or not to give himself permission to die. The sun wasn’t close, but the loss of blood and near-fatal wounds he’d sustained battling so many vampires at one time had weakened him.
The human vampire hunters hadn’t recognized him as a hunter and had attacked while he’d left his body an empty shell so he could try to heal those wounds. A stake close to the heart—they’d missed—hadn’t felt so good. They really weren’t very good at their self-appointed task. They’d torn open his chest and more blood had spilled onto the battle ground. He’d never thought he’d die in a country far from home—killed by a trio of bumbling humans—but dying seemed a good alternative to continuing a life of battle in an endless gray void.
The three men, Carter, Barnaby and Shorty, huddled together a distance from him, casting him terrified and hate-filled glances. They were trying to convince themselves they’d done it right and he was dying. Of course, they’d expected him to die immediately and now wondered why he hadn’t and what they should do about it. He could have told them they’d need another stake and a much better impaling technique if they wanted him to die. Did he really have to instruct others on how to kill him? That was ridiculous.
Sighing, he tried weighing the pros and cons of dying in order to make a rational decision. He’d lived too long. Far too long. He’d killed too often—so much so that there was little left of his soul. He’d lived with honor, but there had to be a time when one could let go with honor. It was past his time. He’d known that for well over a century. He’d searched the world over for his lifemate, the woman holding the other half of his soul, the light to his darkness. She didn’t exist. It was that simple. She didn’t exist.
Carpathian males lost all emotion and the ability to see in color after two hundred years. Some lost it earlier. They had to exist on memories, and after so many centuries, even those faded. They retained their battle skills—honed them nightly—but as time passed, all those long endless years, even the memories of family and friends faded away. He lived his life far from humans most of the time, working in the night to keep them safe.
Vampires were Carpathians who had given up their honor in order to feel again. There was a rush when one killed while feeding. Adrenaline-laced blood could produce a high. Vampires craved the high, and they terrorized their victims before killing them. Andor had hunted them on nearly every continent. As time passed, the centuries coming and going, the whispers of temptation to turn increased. For a few hundred years, those whispers sustained him, even if he knew the promise was empty. Eventually, even that was lost to him. Then he lived in a gray world of … nothing.
He entered the monastery high in the remote Carpathian Mountains, a place where a very few ancients locked themselves away from the world when they were deemed too dangerous to hunt and kill, and they didn’t believe in giving themselves to the dawn. Every kill increased the danger of turning and he had lived too long, and knew too much to be a vampire. Few hunters would ever be able to defeat him, yet here he was, nearly done in by a trio of inept, bumbling human assassins.