Jenna set their pace and he gladly submitted to her, leaning back against the cold marble tile of the shower when she broke away from his mouth and slowly sank down before him. She ran her mouth over his chest and stomach, her tongue following the patterns of his glyphs while her wet hands slid up and down his stiff shaft. He nearly lost it when her lips closed around the head of his cock. She sucked him deep, rendering him mindless after just a few moments of her sweet, wet torture.
"Ah, Christ," he hissed, so very close to the edge already. "Come up here now."
He pulled her up against his hard body and kissed her hungrily, thrusting his tongue into the hot sheath of her mouth the way he was dying to be inside her sex. He reached down and parted her legs from behind, spreading the firm, wet mounds of her pretty ass. He hauled her against him and brought his hand around to the slick, hot core of her body.
"I need to be inside you," he growled, hunger ratcheting so tight he felt ready to explode.
Bracing his feet on the floor of the shower, his spine pressed to the wall, he lifted her up onto him. Slowly, hissing with the pure white-hot pleasure of it, he guided her down the full length of his cock.
She moaned, burying her face in his shoulder as he rocked her in an unhurried tempo, relishing every sigh and gasp of bliss she gave him. She came on a shivery cry, her sheath milking him, tiny pulsations running up and down his shaft.
His own need for release was roaring up on him. He turned her around and splayed her legs in front of him. She leaned forward, palms against the marble wall, water streaming down the valley of her spine and into the crack of her pretty ass. He slid back home, hooking his arm around her waist as he thrust into her, too far gone to take things slowly.
He'd never known sex this intense. He'd never known the depth of need he felt for this woman. The urge to possess slammed into him, just as it had the first time he'd made love with Jenna. The scorching desire to claim her, to mark her as his alone and hold her away from any other male forever, was something he'd never expected to feel.
But it was alive in him now. As he pumped into the soft, wet heat of her body, his gums ached with the hunger to taste her. To bind her to him, regardless of the impossibility of ever truly taking this female--a mortal woman--as his blood-bonded mate.
He snarled with the force of that desire, unable to keep from pressing his mouth to the supple curve of her neck and shoulder as he drove deeper into her with each hard thrust. All the while, the points of his fangs rested against her tender skin. Teasing ... testing.
"Do it," she whispered. "Oh, God, Brock ... I want to feel it. I want to feel all of you."
He growled low in his throat, letting the sharp tips sink in a little more, just a breath away from breaking the surface. "It won't mean anything," he rasped harshly, unsure if it was anger or regret that made his voice so raw. His orgasm was coiling tightly, on the verge of exploding. "I just ... ah, fuck ... I need to taste you, Jenna."
She reached out and put her palm against the back of his head, ready to force him. "Do it."
He bit down, penetrating the soft flesh at the same instant he buried himself to the hilt and spilled deep within her. Jenna's blood was hot on his tongue, a thick, coppery blast of human red cells, but he'd never tasted anything so sweet. He drank from her as she climaxed again, taking care not to hurt her, wanting to give her only pleasure. When she relaxed again, coming down off the crest of her release, he gently stroked his tongue over the twin punctures to seal them.
He turned her around to face him, both of them soaking under the warm deluge of the shower. He had no words, only reverence and wonder for this human female who had somehow stolen his heart. She glanced up at him from under the dark spikes of her lashes, her cheeks pink, mouth still swollen from his kisses.
Brock caressed her jaw, that stubborn, beautiful jaw. She smiled, a sexy curve of her lips, and then suddenly they were kissing all over again.
His sex responded instantly, and the fire in his blood stoked back up to a rapid boil. Jenna reached down to touch him, at the same time her tongue slid into his mouth to play along the length of his fangs.
Oh, yeah.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Twenty-four
Jenna woke up in Brock's big bed, wrapped within his strong arms.
They'd made love for endless hours: under the water of the shower; against the bedroom wall; on the sofa in the living room ... she'd lost track of all the places, and all the creative ways they'd found to pleasure each other's bodies.
Now she dragged her eyelids open in a state of blissful contentment as she snuggled further into his embrace, her cheek pressed to his chest, one leg bent and slung over the tops of his thighs. Her shifting stirred a low groan out of him, the deep rumble vibrating through her.
"I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered.
Another groan, something dark and wicked. "I wasn't sleeping."
His biceps flexed as he pulled her closer, then he covered her hand with his and guided her touch down to the part of him that was, without question, very much alert. Jenna's laugh rasped sleepily in her throat. "You know, for an old man, you have amazing stamina."
He gave a faint thrust as she palmed him, his thick shaft growing more rigid, impossibly larger, in her grasp. "You got something against centenarians?"
"A hundred years?" she asked, coming up onto her elbow to look at him. There was so much she didn't know about him. So many things she wanted to learn. "Are you really that old?"
"Somewhere around there. Older, probably, but I stopped counting the years a long time ago." He smiled, just a slight curving of his sensual lips, as he reached out and smoothed some of her hair behind her ear. "Afraid I won't be able to keep up with you?"
She lifted a brow. "Not after last night."