She could hardly breathe, just small gasps. She bent forward and put a hand on the side of the pool. Oh, Lord he was so going to bring her.
Prepare for a strike, he sent.
Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. He was going to put a potion in her. Do it.
He struck. Because the wing-locks were sensitive, she once again jerked forward, but he held her steady and she felt the potion release from his fang near the aperture. The whole time his finger kept pumping, faster now. Pleasure began to seep over the wing-lock and into the surrounding tissue, the most pleasurable fire. Between his mouth, the rhythmic fondling of her breast, and his fingers pumping into her, she couldn’t hold back. The orgasm caught her hard. She cried out, her body rolling and writhing, one hand gripping the edge of the pool, the other clinging to his forearm.
She panted and he released her wing-lock, kissing up her back. His fingers still worked her deep inside, but slowly now, in and out. She breathed hard.
He reached her neck and bit. More? he sent.
He knew her body so well. “Yes.” Her voice sounded like she’d been swallowing grit.
He pumped again as the potion began to spread to the adjoining wing-locks. He reached down low with his mouth and sucked each aperture in turn.
She gave a strangled cry as the next orgasm descended on her, tugging low over and over, pleasure streaking over her and up. She leaned down and bit his forearm. Hard.
Thorne laughed and once more kissed and licked his way up her spine. He removed his fingers but didn’t get very far as he caressed her ass.
He leaned over and kissed her neck. “Would you be open to something new?”
She flipped in his arms so fast, the water sloshed up the sides of the pool, sending a new wave onto the bathroom floor.
Her eyes were wide as she said, “I thought we’d done about everything there was to do.”
He smiled. “Well, I’ve been thinking. You know that new power of yours?”
She frowned. “Obsidian flame? What the hell are you going to do with that? You want me to look into the future at our sex life?”
He smiled. Oh, his smile was so gorgeous, big even teeth. He met her gaze. “Obsidian flame is a place in your mind, a very deep place down a long dark channel. Sound familiar?”
“Yeah? You popped my obsiddy cherry. So … you’re thinking…”
He shrugged. “I’d like to explore … some possibilities.”
“You mean, you think if you did that again, it might not hurt? You think it might feel good?”
“Yeah.” His deep gravelly voice got even deeper.
Her body started to tremble. As he pushed against her mind, she let her shields fall, which meant he fell inside and did a kind of lumbering roll as he righted himself. “Do I take that as a yes?”
“Hell, yeah, but I can’t imagine what’s going to happen. And by the way, it really hurt last time.”
“I know and I didn’t like that you were getting hurt, but I liked being in there. A lot.” He rose up out of the water. “What do you think?”
She slid her arms around his waist and held on to him. He was very firm. In fact he was goddamn hard. She pressed up against him and wiggled so that his eyes did a roll and he sucked in air like he was breathing through a straw. “So what position do you want to do this in.”
“Again, so my kind of woman.” He began backing her up in the direction of the platform. “I want you up here, prone.”
She looked behind her, and when he lifted her by her waist, she knew where she was headed. By the time her ass felt the platform, he’d folded a nice thick terry onto the hard stone just for her.
“You are so thoughtful.”
“There’s another one next to you in case you get cold. I’m still in all this warm water up to my thighs but”—he looked down her body at her bare mons—“you might get chilled because I’ll be leaving most of you uncovered.”
She smiled as she spread her legs wide for him and drew her knees up. “What do you intend to do?” she asked, as if she didn’t know.
She watched a tremor pass through him. His mouth fell open. She dragged the extra towel, rolled it up, and shoved it under her head. She wanted to watch this, one big warrior planting his hands on either side of her hips and dipping his face right where she wanted it.
Do you like that I’m bare? she sent as his tongue made one long swipe.
God yes. At least right now, I do. I loved your thick hair as well. Aw, hell, Marguerite, I’m just so into your body. Addicted.
She knew exactly what he meant. His thick tongue began lapping at her, and everything low began trembling all over again.
Thorne?
Yeah, sweetheart. He groaned. You taste of rose and woman blended and I’m hard as rock because of it. But, yeah, what do you want? More of this? He flicked his tongue over her in quick little pats so that her back arched and he had to hold her pelvis down to keep her on the platform. His warm laughter rippled through the damp air.
Oh, God, she could so get used to this, being with him all the time. She felt him inside her mind as well, a strong presence. Her heart started to hurt all over again.
You said you wanted something.
She looked back down at his head bobbing between her legs. Actually, I was wondering, before you plunge into my obsiddy power, whether you needed some, you know, sustenance. Sustenance very low this time.
He stopped lapping and groaned so deeply, pushing away from the stone, that she knew the thought of what she was offering had nearly brought him.
When he finally met her gaze, his eyes were at half-mast and his lips were parted as he worked to drag air in.
“Take me low,” she said and she stretched her right leg out, pushing her knees even farther apart, and ran a hand slowly down along the side of her thigh.
He caught her fingers and kissed her hand but immediately settled his face into her groin and nuzzled her. Then he began to lick, long hard swipes to coax the vein to rise.
Her body began to tense because that kind of activity, so close to her clit, told her exactly what was coming. Thorne was no novice, either, and in preparation for what he knew this would do to her, he slid his fingers inside. You’re so wet.
Of course I am. Oh, God, Thorne. I’m ready. Just do it.
He took his free arm and pressed across her lower abdomen in order to keep her anchored. Thank God he was strong, because as soon as he started taking her blood, she wouldn’t be able to control her body’s reactions.
One last lick, then he struck.
She didn’t care how he did it, but she loved when he penetrated her: tongue, fingers, cock, fangs. Her body did exactly what she knew it would do, a full-body roll lifting her off the platform, but he was strong, and his left arm kept her pinned in place so that his fangs wouldn’t tear her apart.
He drank hard and fast and she could hear his breathing take on a desperate quality, forcing his chest up and down in almost heaving gasps as he dragged air through his nose.
She was so close, but he suddenly rose up, his mouth covered in her blood.
She would have complained at the abrupt cessation, but she glanced low. His cock was a missile. She scooted her hips closer toward him, until she was almost falling off the side of the pool, but he stood breathing hard, his hands in fists.
His eyes were closed and he almost looked like he was in pain.
“Thorne?”
He held up one hand to still her. Hold on, he sent.
But for just a moment, as he stood there, that silvery white light poured over him until he was bathed in light, transfigured, a god once more.
Thorne didn’t quite understand what the hell was happening to him. Shit, Marguerite’s blood was suddenly a fire in his stomach, in his chest, in his veins, now flowing through his heart and setting his soul on fire, more than ever before.
He felt stronger, more fit for the world, ready to take on what was about to descend on Second Earth. Sweet Jesus, this was one helluva drug.
He was hard as flint and ready to come, but he didn’t want to, not yet, not like this, not separated from her. And he wanted to delve into her obsidian flame power. He could feel the source waiting for him since he was within her mind, like a radiating heat not far away.
He opened his eyes and looked at her.
“Thorne, your eyes.”
“What?” They felt warm, almost hot.
“They’re almost glowing.”
He nodded and moved toward her, toward all the swollen parts of her, opened wide and waiting. He wasn’t exactly present. His need spoke for him, to be inside her as her blood was inside him, making him burn, making him hard.
He put one hand over her bare mons, savoring the feel of her. He took his cock in his hand and guided himself to her opening, holding himself in place. He began to push, his hips jerking forward.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
“No, it felt good. Oh, God, Thorne.”
He looked at her now and she dragged the towel from beneath her head so that she could lie flat. Her head rolled from side to side. “I love you inside me,” she said, her voice breathy.
“I love being here so much.”
She was so wet, so ready for him that three long pushes and he was buried deep. She accommodated him all the way to the end. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he moved over her, covering her because he was just that much bigger than her. He leaned down and arched to kiss the side of her head, her temple, her forehead.
She stretched and he found her lips, kissing her deep for a moment. It was the one thing they couldn’t do because of the difference in their heights: really kiss face-to-face while doing this. But like hell he was complaining when she was everything he could have ever wanted in a partner.
He rolled his hips and drove into her, quickening his pace a little, groaning as she grew so tight, so close, so ready to come.
I want to dive now, he sent.
Oh, God, do it, Thorne.
If I hurt you, I’ll back out, I promise.
I know you will, but I just have this feeling …
I know. Me, too.
He stretched out, settling his forearms next to her shoulders. In this position, his chest touched hers. She tilted her head, and her mouth found his neck. The groan that left him ricocheted around the rough dark stone walls. “Take my blood, Marguerite. Yes, do it.”