Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“Hm. No.” He undoes the last button and pushes my coat open, baring my breasts in the black lace bralette. The hold on my wrists tightens as he sighs. “Skye, look at you. Fuck. You’re so pretty.”
“You thought I was homely.”
He pauses. “I never said that.”
And that’s the truth. I heard the thought inside my head. But I am not in a mood to talk about it right now. “I don’t want this, Lucas. Do you hear me?”
“Oh, you want it.” He presses his nose against the side of my face and inhales the scent of me again. And the way he groans. “Your body is practically screaming for it.”
“My body is an idiot and my brain knows better. And if we’re not having sex, why are you undressing me?”
“Like I was saying, I’ve always enjoyed a view.” His fingertip trails from my throat down, down, down. Between my breasts and over my stomach. Just when I think he’s going to put his hand in my pants, he smooths his palm over the front of my suit pants. Which is absolutely a relief. Any other thought is an anomaly. “What Henry said reminded me,” he says. “You wanted to talk about consent?”
“You’re not funny.”
“I have to agree with you. Humor has never been my talent. But I have been told I’m good with my hands.” His hand curves over my crotch and presses firmly. And the pressure is wonderful. Like my favorite vibrator and showerhead working in tandem.
My insides squeeze tight, and oh wow. This is so wrong. He is still the asshole who killed me. I go up on my tiptoes, trying to escape him, but it’s useless. He can probably feel how wet I am even through the material of my panties and pants.
The pad of his thumb finds my clitoris and applies the same delicious pressure. I can feel myself coming already. And I am never this fast and ready. It must be a vampire thing.
Heat shoots through me from top to toe. All of it centering on my sex. My nipples ache and every inch of skin feels oversensitive. Like the night air on the sides of my breasts and belly is enough to push me over. But it’s his damn touch and his voice that does it.
“So beautiful,” he whispers into my hair.
A sob catches in my throat and it’s all too much. The moon and stars could disappear from the sky and I would neither notice nor care. My head falls back on his shoulder and my body shudders as the sensation goes on and on. Another vampire benefit, apparently. Orgasms that are out of this world. It’s as if I’ve been born anew to pleasure and sin. And throughout it all, he holds me so tight it’s like nothing bad can touch me. Nothing can ever hurt me again. With the exception of him, of course.
How embarrassing. It was so easy for him to decimate me. I didn’t feel an ounce of shame before, but for some reason I am full of it now. I push out of his hold and this time he lets me go. Just as well. Then he just stands there in the dark, looking as handsome as sin, watching me with those immortal eyes.
I do my buttons back up with fumbling fingers. The horrible thing is, he’s taken the edge off the lust. But I could so easily fall to my knees and beg for more. And I bet he knows it too.
“What?” I snap.
“Honestly?” He shrugs. “I was half expecting you to try and hit me.”
I turn my back on him and walk toward the house. “Henry, I want to go out.”
The nightclub is all polished concrete and metal. People pack the downstairs dance floor and bar area. It goes without saying that I’ve never been in a VIP section before. But Henry leads us straight past security and up the stairs to the mezzanine level, full of white leather lounges, low lighting, and glass tables. A supermodel, some A-list actors, and half a rock band are spotted in the first five minutes. Apparently, this is the place to be. At least there’s small chance anyone I know would frequent here. As much as I dislike leaving my own life and plans behind, it’s best if no one knows I didn’t die in that fire. Though, part of me wonders if anyone would even recognize me now.
I changed my coat for a black V-neck tee and Lucas swapped out his suit for another, exactly the same. Lord knows how much they cost. The cut and style are immaculate. He could be the poster boy for fashionable undead capitalists everywhere. His dark hair is slicked back, and his gaze is constantly on the move, taking in everything. The Rolls-Royce Ghost that we found waiting in the garage, alongside a Bugatti Chiron, also pleased him immensely. This century seems to be a win for him.