Free The Undead in My Bed by Katie MacAlister;Molly Harper;Jessica Sims Page B

you wanted to kill him on the spot but knew you couldn’t because, well, he’s already dead, for one.”
    “You may command me in sexual acts,” I said, biting a little harder on her thigh.
    She moaned. “Oral sex, then.”
    “As you wish.” I leaned forward to kiss a path down toward where shorter, darker curls shielded her intimate secrets, but she sat up, pushing me onto my back.
    “You’re going to be the recipient, though.”
    I thought, at least for an infinitesimal fraction of a second, of protesting that I wanted to be the one to give her pleasure, but there was no way on this good earth I was going to stop Noelle from doing what she so obviously wanted to do.
    She laughed in my mind. I don’t think there’s a man alive who would say no.
    I frowned as she moved my legs aside and sat on her heels between my calves. It’s not that. I simply do not wish to deprive you of the pleasure that you are so obviously anticipating.
    She looked pointedly at my erection, which, at that moment, had properties in tensile strength that were similar to titanium.
    “All right. Perhaps I am anticipating them as well,” I admitted.
    “Tensile strength?” She giggled and stroked her hands up my legs, her touch like molten fire going straight to my blood and driving the hunger into a fevered pitch. “I like the way your mind works, Gray. Most men, most normal men, couldn’t come up with phrases like ‘tensile strength’ at a time like this. Most men would be lying back, moaning, clutching the sheets with both hands, begging me to explore your titanium-like penis with my tongue and mouth and perhaps, if I’m very, very gentle, even a little scrape of teeth.”
    “I am not most—”
    She bent over me, taking the very tip of me into her mouth.
    The sensation of her tongue swirling against flesh that was suddenly sensitized beyond human bearing left me moaning, clutching the sheets with both hands, and begging her to never stop doing what she was doing.
    I never thought I’d like this, she told me as she continued to torment me with her mouth, almost making me come off the bed when her hands joined in. But with you, it’s different. I think it’s because I can feel what every little touch is doing to you. Now, how do you feel about this?
    It’s too much. My back arched off the bed as my hips thrust upward into the sweet torment of her mouth. You’re going to kill me.
    You’re immortal, my darling.
    If it’s possible to die of pleasure, I’ll do it, I managed to get out before the hunger slipped control, and I was pulling her over me, thrusting up into her, capturing her cry of ecstasy in my mouth. Her fingers dug hard into my shoulders, her breasts, those delightful little strumpets bent on my utter captivation, tempting me with their silken warmth as she moved to a rhythm that was shared between us, her pleasure feeding mine, which in turn drove hers even higher. It was as if we were in a perpetual cycle of rapture, and it was only when her release claimed her that I let myself drink deeply, the skin of her shoulder a silken haven that I couldn’t resist any longer. She was mine, and I knew at that moment that I would move the moon and the stars to make sure she remained that way.
    It took a long time to recover, both physically and emotionally. I knew what committing myself to Noelle would mean, knew that it would require sacrifices from both of us, and was attempting to organizea number of arguments in favor of my point of view when she lifted her head and frowned at me. She was lying on top of me, our legs and arms tangled in a boneless, utterly sated manner. The fact that she had the strength not only to raise her head but also actually to frown annoyed me.
    “You do not get to be annoyed,” she told me, her frown deepening. “You have been sexed to your very limits, and if you don’t like the fact that I, as a woman, can recover from such lovemaking faster than you, a mere man, then you can just pretend