Snippet Saturday: A Scene with Steam an excerpt from 'Halfborn'

An intense cloak of lust stirred me. My eyelids slowly cracked open, revealing darkness. It was much later than it should have been, but my mind couldn't focus on that thought. The lust for blood and body hung heavy in the air around me. Nearly tangible. My throat constricted and dared to suffocate me. Consumed, I managed to get to my knees.

I knew Marshall was close. My eyes took a few seconds to adjust. He sat in a chair that had been pulled to the very edge of the bed. His hands gripped the arms of the chair hard enough that the wood had splintered. He restrained himself, from what overpowered him, with pure force.

All he wore was a pair of boxers. That made me almost certain he'd come directly to the room after he'd gotten out of the shower. The thought alone nearly gave me the strength to snap out of the lust-filled trance I'd awoken to.

A car drove by on the highway behind us. Its headlights cut through the gap in the curtains and bathed Marshall in light. His eyes were closed. His face filled with agony. My eyes betrayed me, sliding down the length of his body. Taking in the bulged muscles of his arms and chest from the grip he had on the chair. Further still, to where his erection protruded from the opening in his boxers.

I crawled the short distance to the edge of the bed. I straightened my body and rested on my knees, reaching my hand toward him until it met the skin at his collarbone. Running my fingers over his skin, slowly, they glided down, stopping right above his navel. I watched as goosebumps covered his flesh and his nipples hardened. The second I'd touched him the bloodlust ebbed. It was still there. It had only retreated slightly, allowing his sexual lust to rage.

I glanced up and met his gaze. His eyes were filled with heat, but, also, tinged with the agony still held on his face. Leaning forward, I brought both hands to his shoulders and then ran them down his arms. I urged him to relax his grip on the chair. When that didn't work, I slipped my knees out from under me and slid off the bed. I walked behind him and started to massage the tense muscles of his shoulders. I brought my mouth to his ear and ran my tongue along his earlobe. He kept his stiff posture, unmoving. My body ached with the strength of our combined lust.

He sucked in a ragged breath. “We shouldn't . . .” Through clenched teeth, he whimpered, “I can't . . .”

“Shh.” I slid the chair back and walked around to the front of it. Marshall tensed further, causing an audible crack from the splintered chair arms. I knelt in front of him and leaned into his legs, forcing them apart so I could slide closer to him.

“Coral, you don't understand. Right now, I want to rip your throat out just as much as I want to fuck you. This will only end badly for the both of us.”

I ignored his words and ran my tongue over the length of the erection that stood free through the hole in his boxers. A spasm rocked his body. The arms of the chair gave way, breaking into several pieces and falling to the floor. With nothing to hold onto, his hands found my hair as I drew the head of him past my lips. His breath hissed, leaving in a rush, and his body relaxed as my mouth took in more of him. I worked him in and out, taking as much of him as I could, and slid back up to tease his head with the tip of my tongue. His need for pleasure overpowered his need for blood, decimating it. I brought my mouth up one last time and nipped the head of him lightly with my teeth, causing him to gasp. My hand slid along his stomach to his chest. I looked up, meeting his expectant eyes. The look was very similar to that of a dog awaiting a treat that was held just inches out of reach.

Slowly, I stood—enough to be at eye level with him. My hand ran back down his body, and he glanced at it. Watching as it encircled him. I used the saliva left behind to slide my hand up and down him with ease. He watched for a brief moment and then returned his wanting gaze to me. I moved forward, and his lips met mine. His tongue pushed past my lips, and I twisted my own to embrace his.

Marshall worked at the button on my jeans. My right hand continued to slide gently up and down his shaft as I used my left hand on my shirt. I'd finished with all the buttons there and noticed he couldn't get my zipper down. Apparently, me being bent at the waist had caused difficulty for him. I broke the melding of our mouths, licking his lips before straightening my body to pull off my shirt and jeans. He watched with delighted anticipation when I reached back to unhook my bra. I hesitated. After a few seconds, I let the straps fall down my arms, and the fabric left my breasts. The bra hit the floor almost silently as I grabbed a hold of my panties and pulled them off, tossing them aside.

Marshall didn't move to get up, he just sat there. His eyes roamed over my body. I began to feel uncomfortable. My mind screamed at me to leave the room. That I was taking advantage of his emotions. Not that I didn't want him, because I did. I wanted his body and how it made me feel. He was sexy in his way. But sex would only make things more complicated. If our situation went wrong somewhere along the way, it would’ve just made everything that much more difficult.

I was about to bolt. Not that I would've gone far being naked in a Winnebago, but I could have left the room. Lust crashed against me, stronger than before. I wasn't just feeling his emotions now. He pushed them at me as hard as he could. He'd felt my resistance and let me know, even with my doubts, what he wanted without a word. My line of thought faltered, and I moved forward.

His hands moved quickly. Instead of taking off his boxers, he ripped them from his body. The sound of the fabric tearing made me tighten, bringing my own lust up a notch. The fact that the chair no longer had armrests made it convenient for me to straddle him. I placed one hand on his shoulder. The other I used to reach down between us. I lined him up, rubbing the head of him gently back and forth to spread my lips. With a little wiggle of my hips, the head of him slipped inside me.

I'd planned to start off slow and work my pace from there, but Marshall had a different idea. As soon as I had both hands on his shoulders, his hands went to my hips. I thought I was in control of the situation, but he'd shocked me with the full length of him. He slammed me down as he brought his hips up to meet me. The surprise of it left my mouth as something between a scream and a moan. How he had taken me, so rough, spiked the lust in me further. He took all control. Leaving me with nothing I could do but grip his shoulders and hold on. Suddenly, he stood, holding me against his body. I could feel him throbbing inside me, and I moaned as I clenched around him in response. Our pleasure mingled in the bond we shared.

My back ended up against the wall. His mouth was at my ear. “Grab that bar,” he growled.

I glanced up to find what he was talking about and grabbed the brass bar that was above my head. His hands went to the bottom of my ass. The tips of his fingers dug into my cheeks. I wrapped my legs around him, and he threw his head back as he began to thrust. His need drove him to push as hard and as deep as he could. The thin wall behind me protested with a cracking noise.

I tried to push away from the wall to no avail. Gathering everything I could manage, I spoke through heated, gasping breaths. “Marshall. We're going to . . . bust through . . . the wall . . . if you don't . . . restrain yourself.”

At first, I didn't think he heard through his concentration and our heavy breathing, but he soon slowed his erratic pace. His head straightened, and he met my gaze. The eye contact seemed too intimate. I wanted desperately to look away. Before I could, I was flooded with emotion so much stronger than lust. It was too much. I needed to pull away. Needed to stop. I knew I couldn't return what had washed over me. But I was pinned to the wall, and there was no escape.

The slow, precise movements of his hips began to tear away at my realization that allowing this to happen was wrong on so many different levels. I let go of the bar I held as a last-ditch effort. Thinking, somehow, I could have used my hands to push us away from the wall.

He felt my need to get away. Saw the fear in my eyes, but he could physically feel the lust between my legs. He could also feel the trembling need for release flow through me. My body betrayed me when my mind knew it was wrong. I was using him. Using his body. Using his lust. Using his undeniable love . . . for my own pleasure. A knot clenched in my stomach. I put my hands on the wall—one on either side of my head. My thumbs nearly touching my ears. I pushed as hard as I could.

Marshall's lips brushed my cheek as he stumbled back. His breath lingered there while he whispered, “I know. Don't worry about me. Only you matter.”

He turned, his hands still supported the weight of my body. I didn't have the time to say or do anything. My back hit the bed. His mouth was on mine, drawing on my tongue. Coaxing it to come and play with his. Lost in the feel of his mouth and the rhythmic movements of his hips, I kissed him back.

My thoughts fought to resurface but drowned in the wave of pleasure that crashed through my body. My body won the battle that it raged against my mind as two different pleasures, mingled and bound into one. Not sure which had started to strengthen first, but they emphasized each other. Building and building until it was almost unbearable.

I broke the kiss to let a sound of ecstasy escape me. My body clenched and tightened. Convulsions tore through me. The orgasm shook every inch of my body and left me with no control. Marshall's thrusts sped. The increased pace caused another orgasmic shudder to run through me before his body gave him release. He collapsed onto my chest. His face cradled in the curve of my neck.

I almost missed when the switch flipped. I had just enough time and strength to push him away. He hit the floor. The bloodlust that filled him struck me at full-force. I jumped to my feet, mentally pushing away at the starved need for blood.

“Marshall!” I screamed, “Snap the fuck out of it!”

His head whipped back and forth as if he tried to shake it away physically.

“If you eat me, you'll be lost.” Fear began to overtake me.

My instinct to flee kicked in, and I ran from the room. Reaching for the knob of the door that would take me outside, I was stopped by the knowledge of what Marshall would do if he was freed. I knew if I fled the Winnebago, he would follow, and he'd kill the first person he came across. Probably more than just the first. There was no way for me to know when he would, or even if he could, stop.

*This has been an excerpt from Halfborn. Interested to find out more, click here to grab a copy. Thanks for reading! ♥