Haunted By the King of Death
“Isla’s cry of pleasure was almost too much for Grave. Combined with the way she trembled in his arms, the bliss he could feel in her through their bond and the taste of her on his tongue, he was on the verge of release already and they were only just getting started. He was damned if his first time with her in close to a century was going to end with him climaxing in his trousers.
But the taste of her.
Sweet gods, the taste of her.
He thought he had remembered it clearly, but the reality was far more intoxicating than his memory of it. Her blood had a taste like the fragrance of honeysuckle and night dew, with a rich undernote of smokiness like morning mist that curled through his senses as he fed from her vein. He couldn’t get enough of her or the way she writhed against him, rubbing his aching cock through his trousers. It strained against his fly, even the slightest brush too much for him to bear, sending hot shivers tripping through his entire body.
Isla moaned into his ear.
Too much.
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