When she buried her face in the crook where his neck met his shoulder and inhaled deeply, a sound rumbled from deep in his chest. She felt it beneath her clutching palms.
With each of his strokes, she moaned against his neck harder and harder. She parted her lips, licking his delicious skin.
The taste of him sent her right to the edge, hovering. . . .
Trehan was in an agony of bliss. He was about to bring his Bride to come for the first time in their lives. His c**k felt like it'd explode. And she'd just started licking his skin.
His head fell back as his fingers stroked her. The heel of his palm rested on her tiny thatch of hair, her folds plump and slick in his hold. My gods, her tongue is flicking against me.
Teeth clenched, he gazed upward, fantasies tangling in his mind. He imagined her hot little tongue, pictured her tracing it over the very tip of one aching fang. Or tucking it against his sac as she masturbated him with her soft hand. Or dragging it along the length of his shaft as her eyes gazed up and held his.
"Vampire," she whispered with a wet swirl that had his hips bucking, grinding against her lush bottom. "Need . . . to . . . scream. . . ."
"I'll take care of you, Bett. Just let it come." Right before her cry burst from her, he splayed the fingers of his free hand over one side of her face, cupping her head closer, pressing her mouth harder against him to muffle the sound.
Her body stiffened. Her lithe muscles tightened so beautifully. Her fingernails bit into his chest. Then . . .
Release.
She bucked to his fingers, screaming against his neck.
When he felt the entrance to her sheath clamp around his knuckle, his c**k surged in his pants, desperate to claim that virgin flesh.
As she writhed, his fangs went sharp as blades. What would it hurt to graze them over the pale curve of her shoulder, the swell of her sweet breast . . . ?
At the idea of piercing one little mound, he nearly lost his seed, but he refused to repeat his shame from their first night together.
When she could come no more, she pushed at his hand. After a few last fleeting strokes, he finally relented, removing it from her drenched sex.
The impulse to lick his fingers again was undeniable.
Her taste! "Mieroase rai," he groaned against his fingertips. Honeyed heaven.
Inhale. Exhale. Control. This was for her. Only for her. Control.
As they both sat catching their breath, she leaned her head against him-allowing him to hold her. He didn't ponder his fortune, just rested his cheek against her forehead. He was surprised by how satisfied he felt-when his shaft throbbed just beneath her.
Yes, satisfied. And proud. I've waited lifetimes to do that. With each of her shivery aftershocks, his shoulders went back farther.
"No one saw?"
He pressed a tender kiss to her hair. "No one, love. They'll believe a fog bank rolled in. In a moment, I'll make it fade."
"But I . . . there were sounds-"
"That carry differently. Anyone nearby was too busy taking advantage of the cover of mist, I assure you."
"Okay." To his astonishment, she nestled closer to him. Just as he'd promised, she was relaxed and sated in his arms.
In moments, she'd be angry, the spell broken. For now, he squeezed her body close, savoring every second.
He found himself musing, Why not this place? Why not me? She could be his queen, and they could share this realm. He hadn't given the crown of the Deathly Ones much consideration, but now he had to wonder.
Perhaps I could still be the sword of a kingdom, another kingdom. All this could be theirs. Not such a bad fate at all. No more constantly watching his back, no more looming battles.
Bettina finally drew back, her heavy-lidded eyes sparkling and her red lips curling, as if she'd forgotten where she was-and whom she was with.
She looked adorably drowsy and tipsy, her mask atilt; he wasn't even surprised when his heart thudded like a stack of books dropped from a height.
"Look how smug you are, vampire."
"Am I then? Know that you can be smug for the rest of the night, while I'm still limping from this agonizing erection." He rocked it against her.
"Oh!" Her face flamed. "It's nothing less than you deserve. I hope it stays that way." She scowled. "Or something else, worse-"
The great horn sounded, signaling the end of the fire demons' match.
"Cas!" At once, she shoved against Trehan, trying to shimmy away from him.
With a vile Dacian curse, he let her, giving her a few seconds to straighten her clothing before he waved his hand, gradually clearing the air.
Spell broken. Now he needed to concentrate on another aspect of his plan. Will I be able to stay away from her long enough to prepare . . . ?
After soldiers removed the charred, headless corpse of the loser, Caspion marched into the ring. The crowd cheered even louder than they had last night.
Trehan had noticed that the demon's standard-one curved horn wrapped in some kind of vine-now adorned many of the shopkeepers' windows.
A clearly inebriated Raum returned to the grandstand, tankard attached to his meaty hand, clothing in disarray. He frowned at Bettina and Trehan sitting together. She shrugged helplessly.
After a hard look at Trehan, Raum quaffed his drink, then announced, "And next we have our own Caspion the Tracker, beloved son of Abaddon!"
At that, so many demonesses tossed their garters at the ring that it soon had a ceiling of lace. Bettina looked like she could barely control her jealousy.
Something else we've in common.