The Hunger - Vampire Huntress Legend 3 Page 17

  He abandoned her mouth, but not the sensation it carried, depositing points of pleasure along her jugular. Damn right, the road to Hell was paved with good intentions. He wanted every kiss to claim her, every brush of her earlobe to devastate her. He wanted to be able to glance across a crowded room at her and take her over the edge. He demanded an imprint like a maker's mark. A permanent bond. She was his, and he'd rewire her body's circuitry until she only responded for him.

  While kissing her shoulder he went into her mind with purpose, a hard-thrust thought, like he was planning to do to the rest of her later, only to be so rewarded by her fantasies that he almost wept and busted a nut himself. Entering her thoughts so fast had felt like he'd just plunged into her up to the hilt. It took him a moment to steady himself through a shudder and her diaphragm-sent moan. Her smooth hands were running up and down his back, sending shivers with them as they slid with his sweat and her legs wrapped around his, then slipped over his hips to anchor around his waist.

  No, it wasn't over yet. Sweet torture was divine, didn't she know? He gently pushed at her knees until she released his waist. He chuckled low in his throat as she shook her head to tell him no more, not again, that the pleasure was unbearable. He savored the fact that she was beyond words, even telepathically. Stop? Not hardly. He wasn't finished leaving his brand.

  He gathered up everything she'd forbidden herself on a hard inhale, letting the tension in those secret places build like slow thunder, moving down her torso, trailing her belly with his tongue again, collecting and stroking each time she'd whimpered alone in her bed, connecting to every time her hand had cautiously slid down her stomach searching for release alone but denied, years of pent-up want straining to hold out and do the right thing, her pillow her lover. Six years of agony, of night sweats and wet dreams… years of brutal intensity unanswered, her delicate hand a poor substitute for him. Oh, baby, you suffered… want me to kiss it and make it better?

  When she nodded quickly, tears streaming down her face, he let it all go with a deep plunge of his tongue, finding her unspoiled opening once more. He sent all of her denied release as a spiral of sudden climaxes bound to shock waves of pleasure, answering each unquenched night he'd endured in the pulse of his tongue.

  In a subtle fusion he made both his pent-up agony and hers collide on his deepening kiss and offered her the threat of spontaneous heart failure lick by lick… six years was a long time to want somebody this badly… didn't she know he had the power to make her feel it all at once, in one incredible flash-fire moment? Love her like a mere man, impossible now. She was more than a woman; she was his Neteru. You ready?

  This time she released his name in the key of G, perfect pitch, then riffed the scale with one shrill wordù"Yes."

  Oh… yeah… the night was young, and he was night itself. He was gonna put his thing down hard so she'd never question him again, or tell him no.

  Yet her seizure had almost made him forget that it was indeed night, just like her voice had… and her sobs… damn … he had to remember to breathe. She had scorched him like daylight; her burning response left him near ash. He nipped her inner thigh, but didn't break the skin, determined to finish the brand with authority. But she grabbed his hair, her spine a snap-flex that had her almost sitting up to make him look up at her.

  "Oh, fuck it—stop playing, Carlos," she whispered, tears washing her face, her voice coming out fast, harsh, so urgent that it made him shudder.

  The expression in her eyes stunned him for a moment, so had the husky demand. It had instantly caused a groin contraction that filled his shaft with hot fluid pressure. He could feel it pearling at the tip and oozing from it in a thin, clear line down to the sheets. She'd made him want to slide inside her so badly his vision was blurring. Damn, he was gonna lose control if she kept talking to him like that. But not tonight. He'd brand her with pleasure, just like she'd branded him with her Isis—a slow, sizzling burn. He would molten-bronze cast that shit before he was finished with her. Make her banish the word no.

  He came to her fast, covered her in a hot slide against her, and kissed her hard, then broke from her mouth and held the sides of her head, but didn't enter her. He made her look into his eyes as his fingers tangled through her hair. "I don't want you to bleed, not there." He heard her mind shriek that she didn't care as her pelvis gyrated beneath him. Fuck it, he did. "Uh, uh, I don't want you to ever associate pain with me, not there, baby. You don't want it like that. Neither do I."

  Focus. He slid his hand to her back, pressing against it hard to hold her close, giving her a little bit of what she craved, just the tip, and held her pelvis down against the mattress to keep her from moving, to keep himself from moving and in check. He dropped his voice low so she would pay attention. "Let me work it in slow. Trust me."

  He had to stare at the wall for a moment to get himself together; her contractions were like a desperate siphon, her voice had unraveled to an agonized wail carrying the word, "Please." When a sob of pleasure ripped through her and she begged him to hurry and put it in hard, he almost did. His breathing was getting ragged, and the point on the wall wasn't working.

  Oh… shit… this woman was fine. She was like a piece of rare, passionate art, needed to be displayed proper in the correct venue, mounted right and handled with care, not ruined. But her voice was blowing the lid off his mental black box. It was taking him places that he knew he didn't need to go… not for her first time. But, shit, his possessiveness was loosed, he was a Scorp before he died… and she needed to know what she'd been missing from him all these years. Needed to know one voice, one pair of hands, one set of eyes when she closed hers at night—his. He owned this; her pussy was claimed. She was his territory. Fuck a pillow—never again, not on his watch. Tell me it's mine!

  The side of his hot face caught her temple; she arched, nodded, sputtering, sobbing, and answered him righteous.

  "Oh, God, yes, Carlos, it's yours."

  Exactly.

  That was probably his undoing… Especially when she sobbed and told him it always had been his. True he was a vampire, but he was also a man. Her shudder became his sudden shudder, and his kiss against her throat became more aggressive than intended. He almost dropped fang. She smelled so damned good, and the way she felt around him, her legs constricting his waist, squeezing him in the rhythm she was aching for—hard stroke. But no, if he went there, it would be all over way too fast. She was holding him to her, her nails digging into his skin until he could smell his own blood. That's what I'm talking about.

  "When I call you like this, for this, don't make us both suffer," he said on a ragged breath. Her gasp was his answer. "I don't care what your family's got to say," he whispered hard against her neck. "This is between me and you."

  "I will, I swear," she said, weeping under his hold, her voice a knife to his system, slicing it, cutting away his will. "I can't take it."

  He cradled her in his arms, and eased against her, slow, steady, then brought one hand to her hip to still her frenzied movements so she wouldn't hurt herself. Then he stopped and kissed her forehead, her eyelids, the bridge of her nose, her mouth. With his heart full he moved against her in small, smooth increments, letting her adjust to his weight, to his penetration of her body. He allowed himself to fill the tightness until his pelvis touched hers. Caressing her cheek, he nuzzled her temple, and stayed away from her throat—lest he forget. But her mind ravaged his as it begged for him to take her that way as well.

  She couldn't stand it. The pleasure was so profound it made her nearly insane. She let her voice go. No shame. There was no way to hold it back anyway.

  Each touch set a glowing iron of hot want to her skin… his mouth, oh God, this man's mouth… she never knew. Seconds seemed like hours, and minutes had fused into what felt like days, time had literally stopped as he tasted her ear again while lodged deep inside her not moving, left her writhing, wet, sweaty, dazed, in a fever, and now he wouldn't let her move as he sucked her earlo
be and made her feel it in her bud.

  Every inch of him that covered her was purely honed strength, and she allowed her hands to travel down his back, dip into the valley of his spine that rose again into his tight ass that clenched on the slow down stroke. Have mercy. Thick muscular thighs pushed against the bed, against her, in a maddening, lazy rhythm designed to spare her, but prolonged the agony of needing immediate release one more time.

  Sweet torture, sweet Jesus, this man was finding parts within her, sensitive spots, hidden deep and stroking them with his lazy rhythm, making her beg him to go faster… wanting him to hit that spot he found down deep… shit, he could bludgeon it, just hit it. Her mind pulled him, begged him to keep coming back to that place being kissed by his shaft then gone, returning slowly to pass it again, making her arch, making him hold her hips tighter to slow the pace, the compromise almost shattering his promise to himself that she'd heard through his skin. Hell yeah, she'd come to him for this—any nightùjust call. He owned her. Her eyes were crossing beneath her shut lids. Any night, every night, just don't stop. There was no pride when it came to something like this… if she'd only known.

  And the feeling… the feeling of those muscles moving beneath taunt skin as they contracted in a dance, a slow salsa, good lord… he had to stop. Oh, lord, he'd better not. Ribbons of light scored her shut lids, a current of electricity tore through her until her body seized and convulsed and the shudders would not end. She couldn't breathe, forgot how to, his face burned her cheek as his head burrowed into her shoulder. The wondrous release shot up the core of her, shook her womb, entered her spinal cord, and imploded at the top of her skull. She was gonna die from pleasure, have a damned stroke. Her stomach muscles pulled her up hard, his weight on her notwithstanding, jerking her, whiplashing her; she could only ride it out holding his hair and his back with her fists till it ended.

  And he lay within her, breathing hard, not opening his eyes. She could feel his jaw packed with sudden steel. Then he left her.

  Damali opened her eyes and sat up slowly. She stared at him in stunned disbelief. "What's wrong?"

  Why had he stopped—not now. The separation from his warmth, especially between her legs, felt like a cold stab up her center that brought her hand to her abdomen to stave off the shiver. His absence left phantom spasms, her rim burning, and her entire canal on fire. Oh yeah, she was beyond shame. What had he done to her? Come back to bed, shit… Carlos. She needed him so badly, tears were standing in her eyes. "Baby, what's wrong?"

  He shook his head, his back to her, and held up his hand, unable to form words. His mind was still open. His thoughts sent another hard shudder through her that made her body clench. She wanted him again, needed him one more time… it had been so long, and she'd almost lost him forever.

  In her mind she was begging him, trying save some of her dignity by not saying it out loud. Trying not to get on her hands and knees for it. But right now she felt like a junkie craving one more hit. Didn't he know what it was for a woman to wait twenty-one whole years to be with a man… him? Had he any concept of what that was like? Agony. They had a second chance.

  "No. We don't," he said quickly without turning to look at her.

  One time would never be enough. She stared at him, needing his touch so immediately that she almost cried out for it. Didn't he know how many fantasies he'd fueled, then had answered?

  "Baby… listen… I can't. Okay?"

  She studied the back that was bronzed in the candlelight and by torches, its every detail quickening her with the need to reach out and touch it. Then she understood. Without the bite, with her, a Neteru, he couldn't finish. The side of her throat throbbed; instant heat seared it and matched the pulse in his shaft. Her hand covered the ache at her jugular and a moan escaped her lips as she stroked it.

  "Stop…" His voice was a low, urgent warning. "It doesn't matter. Just leave it alone. I'll be cool in a minute."

  "I can't." That was the cold-blooded truth. Stop? Was he mad? She couldn't breathe. "Baby, you don't understand."

  "Hell, yeah, I do. You don't understand. I can't come back to you right now without hurting you. Like I said, gimme a minute." He dropped his head back with his eyes closed tight and pulled in a sharp breath that cut the air. "Oh, shit… I'm okay. I'm all right."

  Her eyes trailed down his body and she felt his shudder from across the room. Then something strange happened. It began inside of her, as though something dormant woke up. Sudden strength crept through her and made her womb contract. He staggered farther away from her, and she could hear him inhale hard on a strangled gasp. She nearly climaxed again when he did—just seeing him that way, on the border of no control, was like a rush.

  "What is the scent?" he murmured, his breaths erratic, pained.

  "Me being really ready for you…" She leaned back on her elbows and mentally dared him to turn around. She needed him to. It was a reflex after what he'd just done to her. Her lids lowered to half-mast, her voice dropped to a sultry, provocative octave free of all fear and inhibitions. "Matured… willing… Neteru that is not afraid of the bite. Antibodies that ward off a turn. I challenge you. Just once." Then her voice fractured to a whisper. "Baby, please, I really need that now, too."

  He turned around and she could tell he was desperately seeking composure. But his eyes flickered gold, then intermittently red.

  "I don't want to hurt you."

  "You can't." She'd breathed out the plea. This wasn't up for negotiation. He'd turned her ass out, and wasn't gonna leave her hanging like this. Not tonight. "It's no longer my first time." Pride stripped, she didn't care if he was gonna make her beg—just as long as he came back to bed.

  Every desire she ever had became directed toward him. Her mind dredged his and locked in on the scent. "This is what was mixed with ripening Neteru outside Nuit's lair. When I really want you, it's something just for you. Come back to bed."

  She'd told the man the truth; she'd been so aroused by the fight, the adrenaline, and the primal rush of it all… if it weren't for certain death, he could have done her right there. "Tell me you didn't feel it, too, in New Orleans."

  He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply through his nose, his will shattered. "I wanted you so bad that night my hands were shaking, girl."

  "They're shaking now," she said with a sly smile. "When I call you like this, don't make us both suffer."

  "You sure?"

  She nodded, watched him stalk back to the foot of the bed and slowly climb onto it, coming toward her on all fours. His eyes never left hers now; a hint of fang was showing as the last of his suave facade crumbled and he went primal.

  "I won't be able to hold back this time… you know that? I'm past the point."

  She closed her eyes and leaned her head back as he covered her again. "Yeah… I'm counting on that," she whispered, then lifted her hips to take him in.

  As soon as he entered her she nearly lost her mind. His hold under her backside was more aggressive than she'd expected, but she met his ardent response by immediately wrapping her legs around his waist again. The sound he released as he sank deep within her was so animal that it opened a new channel in her brain. Sound fused with touch and became liquid heat. She arched hard and found herself above him. Holding his jaw, she forced his head to the side and bent quickly to kiss his neck, making his eyes roll to the back of his head as she delivered the first bite.

  Everything in her shook as his moan washed through her bloodstream and pleasure reverberated back through her in an endless recycling ecstasy. Her name started in his chest, got trapped in his throat, and escaped on another groan. She could feel him arch, pull her down against him harder. All gentleness gone, she was beneath him in seconds, part of her hanging off the side of the bed, him plundering her so relentlessly that they both fell. She was laughing and crying at the same time, hysterical it felt so good. She banged her head on the floor and opened her eyes. He stopped, the expression on his face intense, and rose
above her. No laughter in his eyes, no flicker of gold, he was over the top—solid red. Yeah, baby, that's more like it. "Hit it like you need to… I can take the bite."

  He stopped breathing and closed his eyes slowly, tilted his head, trembling, deciding, as though almost afraid to move. She made the decision for him, arched suddenly, raked his back, and bit him as hard as she could. The breath he'd been holding came out with her name planted in a guttural wail. Beneath her hands every muscle in his shoulders, back, hips, thighs, ass instantly united toward the goal of pure leverage.

  On the floor he punished her, trying to cushion her spine with his hands, his arms, unable to stop moving against her. Tears of pleasure were running down his face, his head thrown back, one hand outstretched to save her skull from concussion against cement. His voice was a low rumble, a baritone vibration that she could feel through the floor and her skin, tears and mucous deepening the unintelligible staccato fusion of Spanish and English, stuttering something about "Don't stop" as she moved hard with him, split by "Oh, damn, baby…"

  She clung to him, absorbing every deep thrust with searing pleasure, not caring who heard her. He was chanting, "I love you"; she was sobbing the same words. Then her name became mi corazon upon another choked fusion of English and Espa±ol, garbled by paralyzing spasms.

  The room soon started losing form and shape as the illusion began to fracture—his concentration singular—total release inside her. She could feel him approaching the edge of sure completion, which only made her tumble over her own, claiming his, merging with it, bonding it with their bodies, their heat, combined chants of release ecstasy, every fiber joined as she heard his gums rip. Her hard contractions sealed him to her, pain at her throat, a blinding strike that turned into a tidal wave of orgasmic pleasure. He threw back his head, breathing hard through his mouth, fangs glistening with blood and saliva.