Tyler didn’t say anything, but he did stop banging on the bedroom door. For Byron, that was as good as a go-ahead.
Byron followed his rampant erection to Amy. A few drops of blood had dripped onto the clean hardwood floor, and she pointed to them as she leaned against the headboard. “Don’t waste.”
Though his c**k throbbed inside his pants, begging for freedom, he dropped to his knees and licked. When Amy’s essence touched his tongue, a long-forgotten sensation came over him. It was the taste he’d never forgotten, the heaviness of it. But Amy was right in what she’d said before—there was something missing. It didn’t have that quality, that addictive je ne sais quoi of other bloods. Hers was unique. He could tell from the first drop.
“So you’ve made your choice,” Tyler hollered.
