Be Still My Heart Read Online Free PDF

then lurched onto her for more. It was like being deep in water and struggling for the surface. It was better than garnering a lung full of air when breaking the surface. He knew there was more and he was going to get it. Stuart ripped at the blouse she was wearing, and felt her fingers at his belt, unzipping his fly, and then helped her shove his trousers and boxer briefs off. He kicked them over the side with the same lunging motion he was using to find her bra hooks and get them open. They wrestled. They fought. The plane picked up speed beneath them, and then he hooked one of her legs and tossed her onto her back atop what was now a blood-smeared comforter.
    Blood?
    Stuart blinked on the red staining his vision, fogging everything. He was dizzy with blood loss. Or something. Stuart shook his head to clear it. Didn’t work. He didn’t want her hurt. And he didn’t want to stop. The vision splayed before him contained more lust and beauty than anyone could imagine, and he was too far gone. She had her hands against his chest, holding him from her, while the legs wrapped about his hips gave her ballast to shove her loins at him in a cadence of rhythm that matched her pleas.
    “Stuart, please? Please? Now Stuart! Now…please?”
    “I don’t want to hurt you.”
    He hadn’t the vaguest idea where he got the strength to say that. His heart was going to come right out of his chest with the force of each beat.
    “You won’t!”
    “But…the blood!”
    “Yes! More. More!”
    “There’s…supposed to be blood?”
    She didn’t answer and he didn’t even care. Her hands changed to claws of intent, gouging cuts all along his chest and making him even more light-headed. Blackness surrounded his view, brought on by the siren in his arms and the motion of a jet speeding into take-off, and the absolute ecstasy of the suckling sounds she made once she latched onto his open wounds and fed.
    She wasn’t getting all of it. Stuart hardened his hands about her hips, shoved her upward on the bed, angled his head to her throat, and used his tiny fangs to pierce flesh in the exact same moment that he rammed into her.
    And totally lost his mind.
    Moisture surrounded him, coming in a breath-stealing flow, careening over shoals full of it. He was drowning. He was pumping. He had her gripped in place for a ramming motion that was guaranteed to send her over the edge with him. He watched each and every time she reached fulfillment, gained energy and strength and stamina from her release before making certain she knew and felt it. The jet left land, sending them against the headboard with the angle of it, and Stuart rolled to take the brunt of it rather than bruise one spectacular inch of that gorgeous woman-body.
    The new position just gave her a solid hand grip. Stuart grabbed for her waist as she lifted, trying to hug into the headboard, mashing him between the mountain of pillows at his back and the churning mass of woman she turned into, as she rode him until he thought his head might actually fly off.
    Sweet—!
    He’d never experienced anything like the pressure that accompanied every one of her lunges; each lift of her body and resultant slam back into his pelvis, rocking him with her primeval motions; and definitely not the stinging pleasure that must have come from having claw-like appendages buried into his chest. It didn’t feel like her fingers had latched onto him, but right
into
him.
    And there was blood. Rivers of it seemed to cover her, staining the black of his vision with more red. Thick. Sweet-smelling. Mind-numbing and soul-quenching. More flooded atop it, until even the walls seemed to ooze it, staining the pristine white with red. He was blacking out, losing consciousness, fading in and out of reality with every one of her squeezes against him. And then he felt it. He was soaring every bit as fast and high as the jet. Erupting. All the pent-up pressure releasing with such power, he opened his throat and lungs and