Free Last Bitten (The Emerald Night Series) by Lauren Ash Page B

down, but he forced her chin up, forced the first kiss as he rocked her V against his hard mate below.
    Oh my God . . .
    A warm lust washed over her as her mind blanked out and their tongues met. He prodded her above like he wanted to below—oh how she wanted him to take her someplace else. Any place else, so they could.
    My God . . .
    It was like he could read her every thought . He withdrew from the kiss, held her eyes in his, and stopping dead center in the dance floor, his body said, “Come with me.” His lips didn’t move. It was like a thought transferred from one mind to another. “With your permission . . .” He smiled. He taunted.
    “Yes,” Nia agreed . “Take me with you,” she pleaded.
    The mysterious suitor swept her away from the sinful tide and they withdrew to the quiet beach, down a few dark halls, one last left to black door with a sign: “VIP” in red.
    The door opened automatically . More black lights, a few odd couples moving in tandem strewn out against a back drop of blue velvet pillows, curtains to cubicles, some tied some not. Nia saw skin, plenty of skin. Nia heard sounds, sounds of pleasure, sounds that made the heat in her belly boil as all she could think about was sex—sex with a stranger.
    God . . .
    “There is no God here,” he said opening a curtain and leading her inside . “Just me.”
    Sh e laughed, “Just you. And you are?”
    “I’m Johnny . Take a seat, relax, enjoy. You’re Jessica.”
    “How do you know my name?” she asked .
    “My bouncer . He takes notes for me.”
    “Oh , I see.” The pillows were as comfortable as they looked; Nia took off her red leather jacket and laid it beside her.
    “But that’s not your real name then? More gin?” he asked.
    She already felt the buzz—the buzz from him and the buzz from the booze . “No thank you. And no, that’s not my real name,” she said watching him, wanting him to take off that tight black shirt, those tight black leather pants, and  . . . more, she wanted more. “I’m Nia.”
    He eased down next her and slid on top of her, spreading her legs with his. “You want this, Nia?” He pressed hard against her sweet spot, and as he did, she slung her head back, the buzz shooting up through her.
    “Yes .”
    “You’ll have me?”
    “Yes.”
    “Forever?”
    “Yes.”
    Removing his shirt to reveal his perfect body, firm pecs, and delectable abs, she was all too happy as he helped her off with her hoodie and skirt. Nia wore a simple black G-string, no bra.
    Johnny smiled at that. He liked that. She was free enough to let loose. He rolled her over onto her stomach and had her kneel, running a finger under her thong, pulling it up and letting it go so it slapped back against her, “I want you from behind,” he said.
    She nodded .
    He unzipp ed and thrust into her wet spot, leaving her string on so he could admire the frame of her hips and her tiny waist. “You’re so right, my Nia.”
    And he was so big . The pain was pleasure, as she felt sensations she’d never imagined. He yanked back on her hair as he took her, slow at first, building, writhing, until she felt his hand upon her large, firm breast and another slip around to her spot. He massaged the one ache she had left, and in an exclamation of utter satisfaction, they surged. The two collapsed upon the pillows. It was quick and hot—just what they craved.
    “My Nia,” he said . “Thank you.”
    “For what?” she asked , thinking she knew what he’d say next, feeling something deeper for this man.
    “For t his,” he said, holding her in close and sinking his long, sharp fangs into her pulsing, virgin neck.
    Nia now had no idea what he was doing to her. The night was turning into something of a disaster. She closed her eyes and endured the pain.
     
     

 

     
     
    “Don’t fight it, my Nia.”
    The fight was exactly what she had in her . It hit, boiled up the same pathway that all the lust had just flowed through. But regret was a