course, he didn’t.
“Oh, but I do, Cherie.”
“You – ah – oh – do – yeow! – ow! not!” He was ratcheting up the caliber of his strokes as she defied him verbally.
He ended the spanking with a flurry of sharp, searing swats that left her breathlessly unable to control the way she was wiggling and trying to escape his hold. How she hated to be helpless – even with Dag, whom she trusted with her life, but especially with this man, who she knew would really prefer to see her dead.
Max let her up at that thought, running it through his own mind and recognizing that there was a certain amount of veracity to it – that there had been, at least, for several centuries. But now, having met and gotten to know her even just slightly, he wasn’t at all sure that that was still true. His estimation of Dag’s selection of mate was rising by the second. Perhaps he would have to rethink his original plan.
Perhaps. If he continued to find her as enchanting has he had.
Fawna had immediately upon becoming upright, of course, reached down for her pants and panties, but Max caught her hand and brought it up to his shoulder, holding her against him, pressing her to him by placing that big, punishing palm of his over her ravaged bottom, and lifting her feet once again well off the floor.
The thought crossed her mind, however fleetingly, that her next damned boyfriend was going to be short, dammit, not that she categorized Max as a boyfriend, but he certainly was taking liberties as if he put himself into that category.
She caught her breath. He might as well have given her another smack; his touch forced her to crowd against him – exactly where she didn’t want to be. It was the first time she ever really considered him; Fawna had spent most of her time trying to avoid him, but it was damned near impossible at this point.
He was at least as tall as Dag, if not taller. Darker, definitely, in more ways than one. Black hair, almost too much of it, some hunks that fell rakishly over his forehead. Black eyes that enticed and invited then trapped one in their depths. And a black soul she’d already experienced mingled with her own lightness when those razor sharp incisors slipped into her vein.
Suddenly, a thought struck her. “Is that how you can read my thoughts?” She remembered that Dag had that gift, but not all vampires did, but it was a connection that was usually established through the blood.
“Yes.”
Tears filled her eyes again, but for a very different reason than a few minutes ago. “Is that why Dag left? Because you bit me?” She wished, just this once, that she could read his mind, if only so that she could get the answers she sought. She could – in time – accept the fact Dag was gone. But not to know why would be like a knife in her heart to her dying day. He had blindsided her to the extent that she would doubt herself, question every move she made with every man she became involved with from here on out. How could she possibly trust any man ever again?
Max thought about answering her question, but there were, of course, complications, as there always were with everything about humans, and he decided to distract her instead. “You look famished. Why don’t you put your clothes on and fix yourself some dinner. Is there anything to eat in here? I noticed you didn’t have any bags with you.”
She knew exactly what he was doing, but the mention of food, as always, had her famished – and depressed even more so - so she allowed herself to be diverted, for the moment as she dressed with all expediency, before he changed his mind. Mercurial things, vampires, given to changes in mood, she knew well, and she wasn’t going to get caught half naked trying to make dinner just because he had a whim. “No, this place is kept pretty well stocked. Dain is in and out of it, although less than he was before my—”
Fawna clamped her mouth
“Oh, but I do, Cherie.”
“You – ah – oh – do – yeow! – ow! not!” He was ratcheting up the caliber of his strokes as she defied him verbally.
He ended the spanking with a flurry of sharp, searing swats that left her breathlessly unable to control the way she was wiggling and trying to escape his hold. How she hated to be helpless – even with Dag, whom she trusted with her life, but especially with this man, who she knew would really prefer to see her dead.
Max let her up at that thought, running it through his own mind and recognizing that there was a certain amount of veracity to it – that there had been, at least, for several centuries. But now, having met and gotten to know her even just slightly, he wasn’t at all sure that that was still true. His estimation of Dag’s selection of mate was rising by the second. Perhaps he would have to rethink his original plan.
Perhaps. If he continued to find her as enchanting has he had.
Fawna had immediately upon becoming upright, of course, reached down for her pants and panties, but Max caught her hand and brought it up to his shoulder, holding her against him, pressing her to him by placing that big, punishing palm of his over her ravaged bottom, and lifting her feet once again well off the floor.
The thought crossed her mind, however fleetingly, that her next damned boyfriend was going to be short, dammit, not that she categorized Max as a boyfriend, but he certainly was taking liberties as if he put himself into that category.
She caught her breath. He might as well have given her another smack; his touch forced her to crowd against him – exactly where she didn’t want to be. It was the first time she ever really considered him; Fawna had spent most of her time trying to avoid him, but it was damned near impossible at this point.
He was at least as tall as Dag, if not taller. Darker, definitely, in more ways than one. Black hair, almost too much of it, some hunks that fell rakishly over his forehead. Black eyes that enticed and invited then trapped one in their depths. And a black soul she’d already experienced mingled with her own lightness when those razor sharp incisors slipped into her vein.
Suddenly, a thought struck her. “Is that how you can read my thoughts?” She remembered that Dag had that gift, but not all vampires did, but it was a connection that was usually established through the blood.
“Yes.”
Tears filled her eyes again, but for a very different reason than a few minutes ago. “Is that why Dag left? Because you bit me?” She wished, just this once, that she could read his mind, if only so that she could get the answers she sought. She could – in time – accept the fact Dag was gone. But not to know why would be like a knife in her heart to her dying day. He had blindsided her to the extent that she would doubt herself, question every move she made with every man she became involved with from here on out. How could she possibly trust any man ever again?
Max thought about answering her question, but there were, of course, complications, as there always were with everything about humans, and he decided to distract her instead. “You look famished. Why don’t you put your clothes on and fix yourself some dinner. Is there anything to eat in here? I noticed you didn’t have any bags with you.”
She knew exactly what he was doing, but the mention of food, as always, had her famished – and depressed even more so - so she allowed herself to be diverted, for the moment as she dressed with all expediency, before he changed his mind. Mercurial things, vampires, given to changes in mood, she knew well, and she wasn’t going to get caught half naked trying to make dinner just because he had a whim. “No, this place is kept pretty well stocked. Dain is in and out of it, although less than he was before my—”
Fawna clamped her mouth
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