imagined it could be. Especially if no name existed. But she wasnât about to reveal that little white one.
Because that would make him stop.
Letting out a moan, Lyric didnât care if the ice princess mutinied. Desire undermined her resolve and weakened her concern for secrecy. Besides, without a secret name to reveal, she neednât worry about shouting it out at the brink of climax.
And, ohâ¦there. She sucked in her lower lip as Vailâs finger slowly entered her wet depths, and then moved back out to slick across her clitoris. Softly exploring. A rub back and forth, and a slow but firm slide in the other direction. All sensation hummed at her core, bringing her closerâ¦
He needed to press deeper, to focus on her ultrasensitive apex, yet he merely teased. Around in circles, and along her folds, and returning to her swollen clit to demonstrate what she could have if onlyâ¦
If only.
âYou like this, Lyric?â
âYes,â she gasped, then closed her eyes and shook her head. She didnât want to talk. Satisfaction. Thatâs what she needed. Why wouldnât he give it to her? âYou do, too, Vail.â
âOf course I do. Your body is amazing, your breastsso full.â He kissed each one, following with a lick. âYour nipples are so hard I could suck them for hours, devour them like the cherries of which you smell.â
Please do, she thought. Donât ever stop. She was still so hungry, having forgone the mortalâs blood. Climax would be a fine replacement for what she craved.
âAnd youâre so wet. You like it when I put my finger inside you?â
She nodded, breaths coming as rapid whimpers.
âRight here,â he whispered, his lips against her neck now, right over the vein. Still his finger merely circled the spot she wanted him to master. âA little harder?â
âPlease,â she chirped.
âPretty please?â
âMmm,â she managed. âVail, please.â
And then his finger was gone. The tingle at her nipple ceased. The heat of his mouth left her skin.
Lyric breathed, waiting. Her body hummed, wanting, desiring, needing.
âName,â he said sternly.
Fuck. No. She couldnât. She didnât haveâ
She wanted. She needed to get off. Squirming on the bed, she couldnât manage to bring her hips up to meet his hovering hand. The bastard wouldnât bring her to the brink like this and then walk away, would he?
So the torturer did know his craft.
If her hands were free, sheâd finish herself off and not be the least ashamed. Pressing her thighs together,she mined the sweet hum of orgasm. It remained elusive, demanding Vailâs direct and firm touch.
âUh-uh.â He nudged her thighs apart. âNot that way, sweetie. You want to come? Name.â
âVincent Lambert,â she blurted out. Hell, sheâd seen the last name on a movie poster recently, and the first name was common enough.
The mattress jiggled as Vail stood and strode to the counter. Grabbing the cell phone, he punched in some numbers.
Lyric crashed, heaving and gasping as if tears would spill free. The high of arousal withered away and her flesh prickled again, not from desire, but from the lack of touch, of expected satisfaction. Her wet nipples cooled and the aching loss of heat softened them. She pressed her legs together.
No . Not worth it now without him directing the fireworks. And she wouldnât let him witness her weakness. God, how had she managed to get herself into a situation like this? So vulnerable!
She twisted her wrists within the leather strap, to no avail.
Vail asked the operator to give him the address of Vincent Lambert.
Good luck with that.
âThanks,â he said, and hung up. âYouâre in luck. Thereâs a Vincent Lambert in the fourteenth quarter. Got the address.â Seriously? Whew.
Vail walked to the bed and loomed over her, hands propped at his