A sale for now through Valentine’s Day

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Máire wrapped her legs around Dorian’s waist as he lifted her to his neck, pretending it was for stability.  She pressed close as she gingerly sank sharp fangs into his warm flesh and slowly lapped the crimson trickle.  Her resolve against getting physical with him was dispersing rapidly.  She was on fire.  Aching.  Dorian’s desire for her spiced his sweet, exotic blood intoxicatingly, making her lust for his blood more intense than the hunger that’d slammed into her the sunset after meeting him.  A raging demand for his body tore through her, eclipsing even her craving for his blood.

Ataim give me strength, Dorian prayed solemnly.  I dinnae have the control she deserves wi’out Yer help.  The compulsion that let her drink without frenzy had her feeding so erotically he couldn’t take much more.  Her silken tongue was enough to destroy him without her soft, curvaceous body molding against his so accommodatingly.  He was acutely aware of her enticing, feminine scent of arousal and of her core, separated by their jeans, pressed against his painfully hard erection.  Her gloved hands wandered the length of his back and he nearly swore; it was too soon after realizing he loved her to test chivalry’s limits.  “Stop Irish.”  He choked the compulsion aloud, not daring to intensify intimacy by entering her mind.


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