Okay, I meant, I'm teasing you with a bit of the fourth novel. Mean, but yeah. The following is from the fourth book of the Sabrina Strong series, Vampire Caprice. Hoping to get this one out by the end of the year.
The music became a little more sultry. The low, slow notes of the saxophone vibrated down my spine, emptying into my tail bone and then a heat radiated and settled in my groin. An odd relaxation overwhelmed me, too. The heady mix of spicy vampire pheromones and warm candlelight, intoxicating music was a bit more than I could handle—and yet I wanted more. Tremayne was nothing but extremely talented when it came to seducing his intended. I had been his intended for a long while.
“When a vampire mates he takes his time,” Tremayne said low, his eyes claiming mine.
“Mate?” I said, and the heat between my legs became a delicious throb keeping beat with the swanky music.
That's when the dagger decided to wrestle in it's confines at my side. Startled, I looked down at it.
“Perhaps you should take that off and put it somewhere safe?” he suggested.
“It might be a good idea.” Without hesitating, I stood and undid my belt. I wound the leather up, but I had no idea where to put the thing so that it didn't go after him.
“Here,” he said, hand out to me. I placed it carefully, almost reluctantly in his large hand. He took it, ducked low, and the sound of a drawer sliding open, and then close came. He straightened. “That should keep me safe.” He reached and took my hand again, lacing his fingers through mine, then held it aloft as though he were about to take me out onto the dance floor. He stepped around the bar to join me, and turned the chair I sat in so that I now faced him. His eyes roved my face and then he dropped his eyes to my lap. He made a strange little growl, as his hands went to my thighs and parted them so that he could fill the gap with his narrow hips. The motion, and his nearness sent shock waves through me and my libido spiraled out of control.
“That's better. Where were we?” he asked, his large hands slipping around my back. He laced his fingers there, pulling me closer to him. “Oh, yes. You were asking permission to go out with Chris tomorrow.”
“I wasn't asking you if I could 'go out' with him,” I said, my aggravation making my voice go low. “I only asked if it was alright that I go to town with him. Tomorrow. I don't even know why I'm asking you. I should just do it without your permission. It's not like I'm your damned slave.” Why was he making this such a big deal? Why was he coming on to me? And why did this feel natural—again? I knew it was the pheromones, but it was as though the whole idea of sleeping with him had been more my idea than his—and I knew it wasn't.
He chuckled, head low to come even with mine. “Do you think you're my slave, Sabrina?”
I looked away. What was my problem with him? Was he like my surrogate father? Father figure maybe? Not in this position he wasn't. God, I'm messed up. I let go a defeated sigh.
His fingers found my chin and turned it in order to angle it up to face him. Being this close to Tremayne was not in any girl's best interest if she was trying to keep the blood in her veins, or her clothes on her body. This was as uncomfortable as I'd felt with him—since that night in his secret abode where he got me stripped and in his bed in ten seconds flat. But tonight, this was different. He was being purposefully slow, sly and knew all the moves, where I was inexperienced as far as men and such things.
“Sounds very safe. Very innocent. If you want to go with Chris tomorrow, go ahead.”
“You don't trust me?” I accused. “And by the way, since when do you tell me who I can or can't see?”
“You're forgetting one thing,” he said, sounding trite.
“Tonight I've got you all to myself.” His hands came up and cupped my face and his lips covered mine. A warmth began at the base of my neck and went south and settled in my groin. I tried to reach for my glove to get it off my right hand so that he couldn't thrall me. I couldn't reach my glove from around his wide shoulders. I moved my hands downward, between us and began to tug at the glove. It was as though it were glued on.
Realizing what I was doing, he grasped both my wrists and placed them at his sides, and then filled the gap between us with his body, preventing me from doing something—I forget what I had been about to do.
“Now, ask me again. What was it you wanted to do tomorrow?” he said, smile broad.
“I-I don't remember,” I said looking up into his handsome face. The soft light in the room threw shadows across the contours of his face, making it look somewhat like a fine piece of artwork. I realized I had not had the opportunity to really take in the details of his high cheekbones, the curve of his lips, almost-straight nose, the arch of his brows.
“I like that answer,” he said. His lips captured mine once more, then his kisses traveled down my neck. Naturally, I arched my neck and my back, his arms holding me to him. I waited for him to sink his teeth into m, super aware of the throb at my womanhood. This was becoming maddening. There was only so much I could take. Teasing me into a whirlwind of desire, his hands went down, grabbed my shirt and it was off before I knew what had happened.
“There,” he said, his eyes crawling over my exposed flesh. “Much better. My turn.”