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Dracula's Kiss, (c) JoAnne Kenrick -- All rights reserved.
“Forgive me and let me make it up tae ye.” He slipped his arms around her shoulders and
pried her from the wall before pivoting her so her back lay against his chest. It happened too fast, giving her no chance to protest.
Who does this guy think he is? She tried to will herself to fight him off then run like the wind. But her goth self—and the Dracula’s Kisses he’d mixed for her— enticed her to stay wrapped in his arms and enjoy the sense of safe-danger he seemed to offer. This was what she wanted to happen when she took the path down here, if she was honest with herself. She recalled how she’d felt him following her, and how the silly girl in her pretended to run from him. She’d beckoned this to happen. It hadn’t been a drunken, made-up game after all.
She tried to make sense of the whys and whens until he slid his hand over her curves and toward her sex. The thin, imitation silk ruffled under his touch and slipped over her skin. He pressed his fingers taut against her clit and cupped her soft, swollen mound, caressing her. She leaned her head back, steadying her weight against him. No more thinking. Her eyes closed with the ecstasy and her muscles tensed in anticipation of release, pulling at her stomach and making her toes curl in response.
“We shouldn’t do this. I have no idea who you are or anything, and....”
Pathetic, Cathela, you are pathetic. How about you say no and move away from the hot vampire? That would help. Yes, it would.
“And yet here ye are, moaning in delight, begging me tae continue.”
And I have a boyfriend called...something? What was his name again?
He swiped her hair across her shoulder and planted sweet kisses along her exposed neck. She couldn’t believe it, her fantasy had come true. While she tried to figure out what she had done to deserve such pleasure, he pierced her skin with his teeth and clutched his fingers onto her like a cat kneading. His sharp nails scratched the surface of her costume, and his embrace, intense and full of passion, scared her. She’d let it go too far.
“I can’t do this. I’m taken.” She pushed him away, panting, gasping for air and sensibility. Nick wasn’t perfect, and was probably upstairs flirting with the witch that very minute. But they were, for all intents and purposes, still living together and in love...weren’t they?
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