Page 89 of Princess Fallen

Apparently he has the same idea.He grips my breast, squeezes it.Then he trails his finger under my shirt.

I break the kiss.“What the fuck, Rogan?We’re in a damned car.”

“Don’t care.”

Then his mouth is on mine again.

I don’t fight it.Do I have even any fight left in me?Yeah, a hell of a lot, but not where Rogan is concerned.Not where Rogan and I and our lust and desire and passion are concerned.

My gums tingle, and my canines descend, nicking the inside of his mouth and drawing tiny droplets of blood.Oh my God...The hunger...The pure, dark deliciousness of his blood...

I squeeze my legs together, try to control my own arousal, but I can’t.

Rogan and I?

We’re a force of nature.A chemical force.Something happens when we’re together.He grows new powers.Somehow he was able to shift to a different plane—or something that seemed like it.

Do I have new powers when I’m with him?

His blood seems to give me something more, but I don’t know exactly what.

And at the moment I don’t care.All I care about is Rogan’s tongue, Rogan’s lips, Rogan’s hands squeezing my breasts and thumbing my nipples.

He breaks the kiss and gasps.“Christ, princess.”

I don’t respond.I get it.His kisses consume me, and apparently they do the same to him.It’s like a bubble envelops us, takes us out of this world into another where only the two of us exist—our bodies and our pleasure.

I want more, damn it.

I may not ever have his love—I may never be able to give it to him in return either—but I deserve his honesty.

I open my mouth, ready to say the words, but he bites my nipple.Bites it right through my shirt.

I cry out in pleasure, pain, pleasure again.

I imagine him breaking the skin, sucking my blood as I suck his.It wouldn’t do anything to him, but I desire it more than anything.I want him to taste my blood.I want him to tell me how it feels on his tongue.I want to know that it drives him as crazy as his drives me.Blood lust.My weakness, but when I drink Rogan’s blood?It becomes my strength.

He continues to chew on my nipple.I thread my fingers through his disheveled hair.

My God, he’s magnificent.The perfect physical specimen.His tangled hair still feels like strands of silk against my hands.

He moves from one nipple to the other, and I wish I could snap my fingers and dissolve my shirt so his lips could be right on my flesh.

“My God, Rogan.Please.”

“Please what, princess?”He returns to my nipple.

“You know what I want.”

“Here?In a car?”His tone is sardonic.

Yeah, I asked for that.

“Yes, please.Here.A car.Anywhere.Everywhere.”

We’re not in a limo, but we are in a large sedan.Still, there’s not room enough for—

Maybe there is.Somehow he disrobes me in what seems like a flash of lightning.