He might not be able to do any heavy breathing, but her breaths came in rasping gasps loud enough for both of them. Her heart pounded so fast she barely noticed the voice from the PA system.

“Strike one!”

He smiled up at her, exposing his fangs. “In baseball lingo, I’m ready to slide into home.”

He wouldn’t get an argument from her.

His gaze captured hers, black with heat and something else beyond passion. She lifted herself from him, feeling the delicious slide, the sizzling friction. The return journey was fast and hard. She wasn’t in a gentle mood today. The primitive savage in her had scrambled from its cave and was rubbing two sticks together with wild abandon. The ensuing blaze wiped out all thoughts, all reason, all logic.

She rose and fell, clenching around the long thick length of him as he picked up her rhythm and rose to meet her on the way down.

Harder, harder, harder. And, oh God, faster, faster.

The heavy pressure low in her belly built with each of his thrusts.

Just. A. Little. More. Each word in her mind was accompanied by a blinding blast of light.

“Strike two!”

“Now!” He reached up and pulled her down on top of his sweat-sheened body even as he continued to drive into her.

She felt his mouth on her neck and he was shaking uncontrollably. But she didn’t feel the prick of his fangs.

He wanted this. Was she willing to give it? Could she walk into his personal darkness and accept that part of him?

“Taste me.” She guessed she could.

He didn’t ask if she was sure, but he did hesitate, waiting.

“I’m sure.” Her voice was only a murmur, because that was all she could manage. All of her being was focused on her orgasm, building and building until it had nowhere to go, nothing that could contain it.

Everything happened at once.

He thrust into her one last time and she reached her tipping point. Sensation overload gripped her. She cried out as that first huge spasm rocked and twisted her, tying her into a double knot of tight emotions and then cutting her loose.

She felt the momentary sting of his fangs in her neck and then everything flowed into a spasm that threatened to rip her apart with the pure pleasure of it. Could an orgasm kill you?

She felt his own release shudder through him. She wrapped her arms around him and held on. If they rolled off the roof, they’d at least go together.

The crack of a bat.

“It’s going, going, going, gone!”

“Guess Fosen gave up a home run.”

His disgusted mutter barely registered as she trembled through spasm after glorious spasm.

Then the locomotive jerked into motion. It chugged toward the end of its short track with its whistle shrieking and bell ringing, smoking and steaming its little butt off.