Born in Chains (Men in Chains #1)(14)
Author: Caris Roane

He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He was shaking head-to-foot, and the chains told her just how out of control he was. He laid her out on her back. “I can still call someone, but I don’t want to. I want you, Lily, and I want you now.” His arms, planted on either side of her, trembled.

But in that moment, maybe because even in his overwrought state he’d given her a choice, a wave of desire crashed over her, something that had been building since she’d first seen him in the cavern, in the vision before he’d been tortured, looking like a proud stallion, facing up to the pain to come.

Her br**sts ached and she felt so swollen and needy between her legs that she let out a harsh cry. “I’m here,” she all but shouted.

Lightning flashed from the small windows on either side of the bed and thunder rolled as he landed on top of her. She had a brief glimpse of fangs as another flash lit the room.

She turned, exposing her neck, and he used a hand to pin her head so that she couldn’t move. He struck quickly, puncturing her vein, a brief slice of pain that disappeared the moment he began to suck in quick, heavy, starved pulls.

She could feel his desperation but the more he took, the more her body grew lax, melting into the down-filled silk. She wanted her clothes off since her body had lit on fire, burning deep.

She hadn’t had sex in all this time, not since her family disappeared from her life. And sex was all that she wanted right now, the relief of it, the physical pounding.

Fierce sex, even with a vampire.

* * *

Adrien took fire down his throat. He rarely drank from humans, but on the rare occasion he did, it had never been like this—as though each drop carried the source of all life.

He wanted more, so much more. He wanted to drink her down tonight, tomorrow night, and every night after that. He wanted the flavor of her blood on his tongue when he woke up in the evening and the last thing in the early-morning hours when he went to bed.

His blood-starvation had made his mind a cauldron of disjointed thoughts, of profound need.

He heard her cries and moans and didn’t care if he was hurting her. The hungry shifts of her legs rubbed his cock, stroking him, helping him to know that all he needed would soon follow.

He ached into his groin, a gathering of twelve months of frustration and despair. He knew that what was about to happen, especially with his blood-need satisfied, might just shake the foundation of the earth.

At last, he slowed his drinking and began to secrete the potion that would heal the fang-wounds in minutes. The same potion also carried a chemical that speeded up red cell production to replenish the supply. He’d be taking more from this human in the coming hours, the least he deserved on behalf of his kind for the wreckage her kind spewed over his world.

As he drew back, he saw her in the glow of his vision. Her pupils were dilated and her lips dark and swollen. Good. She was sexed up and ready, because what was about to come wouldn’t be a gentle coupling.

“I hate you for what you are,” she shouted. Her hand whipped toward his face, ready to strike, but with his usual speed he caught her hand before she connected.

He leaned down and put his lips on her mouth then drew back. “Can you taste your blood?”

Her tongue made an appearance. She winced at the taste, but her body undulated with more need.

He lifted up, holding her gaze, and stripped off his shirt.

She looked up at his chest and cried out, then her hands clawed him, her nails dragging over his skin, scraping long strips. She leaned up and took a nipple in her mouth, sucking hard.

He groaned and with one hand took off his jeans, a real test of his skill as he hovered above her, and let her suck and bite him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck to hold her steady. He started working her clothes off her, peeling away her pants and her shirt as she kicked off her shoes.

As he fell on top of her, he plundered her mouth. Her nails found his back this time and each scrape hardened him one degree more. He grunted his approval, thrusting his tongue heavily into her mouth.

He pushed her legs apart with his knees. She cried out against his mouth as his c**k found her entrance and he began to push.

The human was tight, but she shoved her hips against him, forcing him in deeper.

He needed to calm the f**k down.

Her hands roved his body, rubbing up and down his biceps, which flexed beneath her touch.

“You’re so wet.” And tight. My God she was tight. She hadn’t been used in a long time. He hoped to hell he wasn’t hurting her, but nothing in the chains told him she was feeling any pain as her body undulated beneath him and against him.

He began to push into her in short thrusts. His balls were so ready.

“Do it, Adrien. I can feel that you’re ready and I’m ready. Do it.”

He gave a cry and thrust into her hard, pulled back and thrust again. His hips took over, and every stroke was like a lightning strike of pleasure along his cock.

He heard her crying out and could feel her tight orgasm pulling on him as the release came, what he’d been aching for during his captivity, to be inside a woman and feeling all her flesh as his c**k jerked inside her and his beautiful come filled her.

He barely heard her cries of ecstasy as he shouted his pleasure. But he could feel that she was coming again, her hips matching his thrusts.

Even though he’d come, he could stay hard for a good long time, and given the length of his celibacy he was pretty sure he could release again, so he kept working her body. He leaned down and kissed her, which somehow lit her up and she arched once more. He drove hard and fast, bringing her yet again so that she screamed in ecstasy.

The rain still beat on the windows and as another flash of lightning and roll of thunder shook his Paris apartment, she came, crying out, a sound that matched his shouts and groans as he released into her again.

* * *

“Get off me,” Lily said, her voice hoarse. How many times had she screamed while he’d brought her, but now she wanted him off her and out of her.

Adrien pulled out and flipped over on his back, throwing an arm over his forehead.

She turned on her side, away from him as a few tears leaked from her eyes, tears of dismay and rage that she’d enjoyed giving up her blood to a vampire, that she’d taken pleasure from his body repeatedly.

She hated herself for having been weak with him—but mostly she blamed the chains because from the first her attraction to him had worked on her, building her to the point that the moment he came at her needy and trembling, she’d lost her will to refuse him.