His lips touched the corner of her mouth, too light, an unfulfilled promise. Vicki stirred, restless, but his hands, wrapped around her wrists, were a solid restraint. "Hey," she said, too husky to be protest. "Henry, what--"
His lips closed around her nipple, cool fang brushing her skin, and she hissed at the sharp, sudden rush of sensation. He glanced up, mouth curving in a slow dark smile, and met her eyes. "Be patient." It was a bare murmur.
"I'm always patient," she muttered. "This goes a little beyond patience."
He chuckled, and the vibrations slid along her skin. "Always?"
"Absolutely," she agreed. "Now would you just--" Her voice lapsed into a low, hitching moan as his fingers released her wrist to slide up the inside of her leg. They flirted with contact, stroking along swollen, tender tissues, sliding easily through dampness there. He made a soft sound, low in his throat, and whispered something in a different language, deep and rasping. "Henry, what the hell are you doing?"
He rose on his elbows, letting his mouth touch the corner of her mouth, eyes half-closed. "Torturing you," he said lightly, mouth curling at the edges. "Can't you tell?"
"Yeah, I kind of--" She stopped, breath hitching. "Jesus Henry! Don't stop."
"As you command," he said, pleasure and amusement mingling in his own voice. She managed a decent snarl, and her body arched off the bed, her one free hand knotting in his hair. "You've finally given me the chance," he murmured against her skin, shifting against her, "I'm not going to waste a minute."