“More!” Jane gasped out. “Don’t stop!”
He would do whatever she wanted.
Jane’s hands flew down and she shoved her palms into the mattress, balancing herself. He gave her more. Gave her everything. The bed was squeaking, the mattress rocking, and his hips pumped frantically as he drove them both toward the abyss of release.
He kissed her shoulder. Licked the skin. Then he bit her, a light marking that was the way of his kind. When his teeth touched her skin, Jane gave a quick cry. Not of pain, but pleasure, and he felt the contractions of her release all around his cock. His eyes squeezed closed because she felt so incredibly good.
Like she’d been made just for him.
He withdrew, then drove deep once more. The pleasure hit him, surging up hot and wild, and he yanked his mouth from her shoulder because he was afraid he’d bite too hard. That he’d hurt her.
He growled her name, and kept thrusting. The pleasure wasn’t ending.
“Aidan!”
His eyes flew open at her cry. She was still coming. He could feel it around his dick. Aidan wanted to give her so much pleasure. So much that she would always remember him—always remember this moment.
Always remember the way it felt when they were together.
Her hands had fisted around the sheets. She held them so tight. Her body arched like a bow and he curled around her, both of them absolutely lost.
Give her up?
His heartbeat drummed in his ears.
Hell, the fuck no.
***
“A second deadly mugging has New Orleans residents on alert this morning…” The pretty blond news anchor, Sarah Steele, stared straight ahead, her voice carrying just the right degree of concern. “Authorities have confirmed that another body was discovered in the St. Louis Cemetery late last night, another victim of a robbery gone wrong.”
“What the fuck?” He shot up from the barstool, glaring at the small TV. It was freaking early and he’d dragged his ass down to this tiny diner because he’d wanted to see people’s reactions to last night’s kill.
But the reporters were screwing up the story. It was no mugging. Fuck that. And what about the detective? Mary Jane Hart? Was the blond bitch on TV even going to mention her?
Folks at the nearby tables glanced at him, their expressions a bit worried.
They should be worried.
The blond continued, “Reporter Kennedy Jackson is live at the police station with an exclusive interview with Police Captain Vivian Harris.”
And then a new scene was showing on the screen. The camera focused on an older woman, one with a gleaming badge pinned to her chest. The woman looked all official as a microphone was shoved toward her. “Citizens should be on guard,” the woman explained. She had to be the damn police captain that the reporter had mentioned. As if on cue, text appeared beneath her image, text that read Police Captain Vivian Harris. “They should be smart. Citizens should always travel with a friend late at night and be aware of their surroundings. And if anyone sees something suspicious, do not hesitate to call the cops. After all…” She gave a tight smile. “We’re here to help you.”
Fuck, fuck.
“Rest assured,” the police captain continued doggedly. “I have my best team working on this case. The killer will be apprehended.”
Then—from off camera—he heard a reporter ask, “This makes two murders in a very short amount of time. Are we looking at a serial?”
The police captain’s eyes narrowed just a bit.
He realized he was holding his breath.
“No, Ms. Jackson,” Vivian Harris said clearly. “We’re just looking at a man who enjoys preying on the weak. A coward who hunts in the dark.”
His claws wanted to spring free. He wanted to attack. She’d dared to call him a coward?
Vivian Harris stared straight into the camera—seems like she’s looking right at me. “As I said before, this killer will be apprehended, have no doubt about that.”
Really? Then come and get me.
The camera cut away from her and the pretty blond reporter was back on screen.
Or…maybe I’ll just come and get you.
***
Aidan’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. He was still curled over Jane, the scent of their lovemaking filling the air. And he was already getting hard for her again. Hardly surprising. He pretty much always wanted Jane.
She looked back over her shoulder, smiling at him. “I love you, Aidan Locke.”
I would die for you, Mary Jane Hart.
“Want to take a shower with me?” Her voice was light, happy. And why not? She’d cheated death. They were together. They both should be happy.
“Absolutely.” Slowly, he withdrew from her. She gave a little moan.
And I’ll be coming right back inside you when we get in that shower.