Then she entwined her fingers with his, urging his arms down by his side. Intrigued and aroused, he complied, watching her ravenously as she shackled his wrists with her hands.
The silent reference was unmistakable. His mind flashed back to pinning her on his bed while he sucked and licked between her legs. The memory caused him to growl underneath his breath even as he angled his hips so that she had better access to him.
It was the gentlest of sex games, getting inside his head and playing off his memories. She couldn’t hold him in place if he didn’t let her.
He let her.
Lowering her head, she began to lick, kiss and nibble at the skin of his flat abdomen. His muscles tightened as the sensation ran all over the surface of his body. She moved all around his cock, which lay distended and aching on his stomach, but she never focused on it. Instead she focused everywhere else.
Because of the angle and movement of her body, she still ended up touching him. Her cheek came into contact with the hypersensitive skin at the head of his erection. Then her jaw brushed against the shaft. A lock of her hair fell forward over her shoulder and tickled at his balls, which had drawn up tight in anticipation.
Every glancing caress made him hotter, harder. When she rubbed her nose affectionately in the dark hair that sprinkled his torso, he hissed, “Come on, get on with it, damn it.”
“Hold your horses,” she said against his skin.
Tension vibrated through his arms as he fought conflicting urges. He needed to break free of her hold, sink his hands into her hair and demand that she take him in her mouth.
But he also needed to subject himself to her desires. She gave him the gift of her compliance when his need for dominance took control. He would do no less for her.
She felt his struggle in his body’s response to her. Angling her head, the dimple in her cheek appeared as she gave him a naughty smile. “You’re still such a sexy beast, your majesty. Sexy and beast – two of my favorite things.”
The sight of her pulled him out of his preoccupation with his growing urgency.
She looked so happy. The sight fed all the dark places inside him. Tugging gently with one hand, he silently asked to be freed, and her fingers loosened.
He ran his fingers along her cheek and stroked her soft, smiling lips. “I adore you, you know,” he told her quietly. “Just so that we’re clear.”
Adore. What an exotic, extravagant word. He couldn’t remember ever saying it to anyone before.
Her smile deepened. She pressed a kiss against his erection, and it flexed in reaction. She whispered, “I adore you too.”
Lowering her head, she licked around the sensitive edge of the broad tip. His indrawn breath was clearly audible in the peaceful silence of the cabin. With a small, contented sound, much like a purr, she grasped him at the base and took him in her mouth.
She still held one of his wrists. Turning it in her grasp, he took her hand and rubbed her fingers. With his free hand, he stroked her hair.
Liquid fire cascaded along his nerve endings as she worked him. Opening her throat, she took him all the way in. She was such a generous lover. She used her lips and tongue with single-mindedness, creating a wet, tight suction and rhythm that made him crazy. Gasping, he gave up on control, fisted his hands in her hair and raised his head to stare at her as he pumped into her mouth.
The pleasure quickly became too intense. He pulled her head up.
She made a disappointed moue. “Hey, I was busy with that.”
But he had lost his sense of humor.
“Come here,” he muttered. As she changed course and readily shifted up to him, he drove his mouth onto hers, plunging as deep as he could with his tongue. The fire she had lit in his veins wouldn’t let him slow down.
With a heave, he flipped them so that she landed on the couch while he sprawled on top of her. She gasped at the drastic change, her hair flying in her face. While she shoved the curls out of the way, he stripped off her soft, loose pants.
Lifting her torso, she pulled off her fleecy top. Underneath, she wore one of her pretty, lacy bras. He managed to rein himself in so he didn’t rip the delicate material as he unhooked it and slipped it off. When she was completely nude, he hauled her up and around until she knelt on the floor, her upper body braced on the couch cushions.
“One of these days, I really am going to stop acting like such an animal,” he said between his teeth as he ran his hands greedily over her curves.
“Please don’t do it on my account.” She braced herself with one arm against the back of the couch and spread her knees wide, baring herself to him in invitation.
He might be an animal, but he wasn’t totally inconsiderate. Fingering her gently, he drew out moisture so that she was ready for him. With a breathless moan, she shifted restlessly underneath his touch.
He enjoyed her reaction so much, he eased two fingers inside. She was velvety soft, tight and wet. Her inner muscles clung to his fingers as he fucked her, making him growl under his breath.
“I could come just by watching you,” he muttered. He loved everything she did during sex. He loved everything about her.
“Come on,” she whispered, moving back against his hand as he worked her. “Bite me.”
Pausing, he tried to think. “How long has it been since the last time?”
“It’s been a while. Long enough.” Reaching behind her, she stroked and squeezed his cock.
He covered her fingers as she grasped him, otherwise he might explode. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. It was the day you baked that awful chocolate cake, remember?”
Her shoulders shook, and he realized she was laughing. He told her darkly, “We don’t talk about that cake.”
“You might not talk about it,” she retorted. “But it happens to be one of my very favorite subjects. When you started, you were so – annoyingly confident… Ohh.”
She gasped the last as he pulled away his hand, positioned himself at her entrance and pushed in. He flexed in and out until he was able to plant himself all the way inside. Then, obeying a primitive instinct, he lowered down until his chest covered her shapely back. In that position, he could only fuck her in shallow thrusts. Physically titillating, it satisfied some deep-seated emotion.
Lifting her head back so that it nestled in the crook of his shoulder, her breath came hard at each quick thrust.
Putting his lips to her ear, he whispered, “Let’s get another thing clear. We might decide to do in vitro. You might get pregnant. If you do, it will be my child. No one else’s. Mine. Just like you’re mine. Understood?”
Her face twisted. She nodded.
“Say it,” he said. He reached around her hip to finger where they joined, and found her pleasure point.
“I’m yours.”
He believed her. He had faith in her.
His fangs descended, and he bit.
The sharp, sweet pain of his bite pierced the tender flesh where her neck met her shoulder. They both stopped and waited.
Tremors ran through the muscles of her arms and legs. His weight pinned her against the cushions, his hard, muscled arms enfolding her. He felt so good inside her, both silken and hard at once. With his fingers pressing on her clit yet he was still not moving, she felt like she was going to fly apart.
The momentary sting from his bite disappeared. Pleasure stole into her, so much pleasure, and oh my God, something had to give.
She whimpered, “Julian, please.”
The gentle draw of his mouth intensified everything. The rasp of the couch cushion against her bare skin. The tickle of his chest hair. The pressure that built from inside. He could climb inside her head like nobody else she had ever known.
She needed to move so damn badly, yet he held still, and he held still, until she couldn’t hold back a muffled scream.
At that, a deep, quiet growl vibrated against her back, and he moved.
Just his fingers.
The sensation that
rocketed through her was so extreme, she exploded. She bucked in his arms, sobbing. He clamped down on her and held her in place effortlessly, stroking and stroking, while she rode the waves of her climax. He took her to a place beyond words, until finally she had to pull his hand away.
Only then did he ease out of the bite and rise up. Grasping her by the hips, he began to pump into her in long, powerful strokes. She didn’t know what was more devastating – when he focused on giving her more pleasure than she had ever experienced in her life, or when he focused on taking his own.
Helpless tears leaked out of her eyes. All she knew was that making love to Julian stripped her of every barrier, until she felt totally open and exposed.
Then he went rigid. She could feel his tension pouring through the tight grip on her hips.
He whispered, “Melisande.”
There was so much yearning in his deep voice, she lifted her head. Twisting, she reached back to him with one hand. He grasped it. Their eyes met.
His thick, muscular body was in silhouette against the backdrop of the lake. The diffuse, early morning sunshine highlighted the flecks of white in his hair and the power in his piercing gaze.
And oh God, the look on his face.
To be loved like that… it was so much more than she could ever have hoped for.
His head and shoulders bowed, and his face clenched. She watched him orgasm while she felt the pulse of it inside, and she helped prolong his pleasure by rocking gently back against him.
“You’re mine too,” she whispered. “Don’t you ever forget it.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “I never will.”
Afterward, when he finally pulled his softening penis out, she sighed in resignation. “I always hate that part. I want you to stay inside.”
“I do too,” he said, stroking her buttocks and thighs.
He took his T-shirt and gently cleaned her, while she yawned and a heavy lassitude crept over her. “The fire’s so lovely,” she murmured as she crawled onto the couch. “I want to curl up here for a while. We can go to bed later, okay?”
“Okay.” Grabbing a soft chenille throw, he joined her. She laid her head on his chest, while he wrapped them in the blanket.
Held in his arms, a deep, peaceful sleep took her.
When she next opened her eyes, the light had changed and she was alone. Yawning, she stretched and looked around. In the fireplace, the flames had died down. What remained of the logs glowed a deep, gorgeous red.
Her clothes had been folded and set on the floor near her head, and a familiar rich, appetizing smell filled the house.
Smiling, she dressed and padded into the kitchen.
He had cleaned up the flour. She was sorry to have missed the sight of the Nightkind King wielding a broom and dustpan.
Barefoot and shirtless, and dressed in his jeans, he stood at the counter in front of a pan of chocolate cake. Evidently, she had slept hard for a couple of hours, for the cake was not only baked, it also appeared to be cool. He had opened a container of store-bought, cream cheese frosting.
His head bent, he focused on spreading the frosting evenly. He took such care with the task, gently working the knife so that he didn’t damage the delicate surface.
For some reason the sight brought fullness to her chest. Tears sprang to her eyes.
“What did you do?” she asked.
It was a stupid thing to say. She could see very well what he had done.
He looked up to give her a smile that creased his face.
“I baked you another cake,” he said. “I hope I did it right this time.”
The End
Thea Harrison, Midnight's Kiss
(Series: Elder Races # 8)
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