Forever Freed

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Samantha.”

She shivered. “Oh really? How is that?” The flirtation in her voice was unmistakable. And enthralling.

Before she could see me, I scooped some of her ice cream on my finger and wiped it messily across her lips and chin. She screamed and laughed. I swallowed hard at the lush softness of her lips.

She turned to face me on the table. Still grinning, she cleaned her face with a napkin. Then she saw the ice cream still on my finger. “Sorry, that was my only napkin.” I grimaced at the ice cream and Samantha huffed.

“Who doesn’t like ice cream? Do you want me to get rid of that for you?” She met my eyes and arched one eyebrow.

The mild scent of her adrenaline intrigued me. “Please,” I said quietly, observing her with interest.

She grabbed my hand by the wrist and pulled it down to her face.

I gaped at her intentions but was so captivated my finger was in her mouth before I’d even grappled with whether to allow her to do it.

My brain exploded with the sensation. Ah, Cristo. So warm. So wet.

Her pulse beat through her tongue. I fought not to gasp out loud. My eyes stung as blood threatened to rush in, as happened when I fed or felt threatened or aroused. It took all my concentration to will the blood away.

“There,” she whispered as her lips slid off the tip of my wet finger. Her heart thundered in her chest. The blossoming scent of her arousal was mouthwatering. “All better.”