"I said no!" Lenore yelled as her hand shot out, grabbing onto Sully's back as he burst into wolf form. Her fingers came into contact with his fur-covered back, grabbing a loud yelp out of him as her anger burned him at the touch, making him shift right back into human form, reaching down to touch his red side.
"What the fuck?" Ace mumbled under his breath, gaze pinning Lenore.
Shit.
So much for keeping it from him and the others.
This was not going to be good.
That said, neither was her being used as a bargaining chip with the fucking shifters either.
"How the fuck did you get out?" Sully growled at Lenore, though his words weren't as heated as you might think seeing as she'd given him second-degree burns on his side.
"The door locked from the inside, not out," she said, having the balls to roll her eyes at him. "I belong with them," she added, voice gaining some strength.
"You belong here now," Sully objected.
"I'm a person, not a possession," she shot back, even though she was clearly a bit of both to us. They didn't need to know that.
"Afraid you are going to have to be both, witch," Sully said, shrugging. "You're worth too much to just let you go."
"I'd like to see you try to stop me," she challenged, raising her hands at him. I knew what those burns felt like. It was no surprise that Sully flinched when she brushed past him.
"You—" Sully started, only to have the older man put a hand on his shoulder.
"It's not worth it," he said, shaking his head. "We'll find other ways."
"Or other witches," Sully agreed, tone low, lethal, making Lenore shrink back a bit, likely thinking about her coven, and the loved ones she'd left behind there, not wanting to subject them to a similar—or worse—fate than hers. "If any of you step onto our turf again," he said, looking at Ace, "we will consider that a break of the long-standing truce we have known."
"Careful who you threaten," Ace shot back as Lenore moved in at my side, tucking herself a bit behind my shoulder. "Remember what happened the last time you fucked with us," he added, turning on those last words, and getting on his bike.
"Come on," I mumbled to Lenore, grabbing her arm, pulling her over to my bike. "Climb on behind me," I said when she stood there after I got on, unsure what to do. "Legs against the backs of mine, arms around my chest. Then hold on."
Not needing any more instructions, seemingly in as big of a rush to get out of there as I was, she climbed on behind me, and slid forward so I could feel each inch of her against me—her tits on my back a distraction I didn't need when trying to drive us home. Then her arms tentatively slid around my sides, folded across my chest.
"Hold tight," I reminded her as I backed the bike out then flew out of the lot, wanting to put space between her and the shifters as fast as possible.
Her body jolted hard, adjusting to the new sensation. Unless her coven had like... horses and shit... I couldn't imagine she'd ever experienced anything like being on a bike.
After a couple of minutes of clinging to me like she wanted to burrow into my skin, she slowly relaxed, arms releasing just enough to let me breathe properly again.
It was then, too, that her face pressed into my back.
It was nothing.
Or, at least, that was what I needed to believe.
I needed to think of anything other than how nice it felt to have her leaning into me, holding onto me more than she needed to. Almost as if she wanted to hold me, to get closer to me.
It was a long drive home.
Too long.
I needed to stop the bike, to grab her, get a taste of her.
I wasn't going to be able to think straight—let alone drive straight—without getting some sort of relief from the growing need inside.
I slowed up, let Minos pass to disappear down a hill, then pulled to the shoulder, reaching for my phone, shooting off a text saying the witch needed a pitstop, and that we were ten minutes behind.
"Why did we stop?" Lenore asked, making no move to pull away from me, arms and legs wrapping me up, cheek on my back.
I didn't answer her.
Not in words, anyway.
I pulled out of her hold, climbing off the bike, grabbing her hips, swiveling her around to face the back of the bike, then pressing her down onto the seat as my hands grabbed at her pajama pants, ripping them down her legs, laying her bare right there in the tree line right off the highway. Not giving a single fuck who happened past, I grabbed her thighs as I leaned down, breathing in her scent for a second before running my tongue up her pussy.
A shuddering gasp escaped her as my tongue found her clit.
A part of me wanted to go easy on her, explore this with her.
The other part was too into it, too beyond needy, overwhelmed with her sweet scent, and sweeter taste. The sounds of her flooded my ears, silencing anything else as her gasps became loud, unabashed whimpers.
Her fingers dug into my hair as my fingers slipped between us, pushing deep into her pussy, thrusting. Hard, fast, unrelenting, driving her up.
She teetered there on the edge for a long moment, her voice crying out, begging for an end to the sweet torment.
My fingers turned inside her, raked over her top wall, as I sucked hard on her clit, making the orgasm slam through her system, calling out my name as she came, her pussy clenching at my fingers as I milked it for all it was worth, licking, sucking, fingers rubbing over her G-spot until her body went languid, spent.
I pulled back, looking down at her pink skin, her heaving chest, her hazy eyes, her wide mouth.
Fuck.
That mouth.
I needed that as much as she needed mine.
More, even.
I reached out, slipped under her neck, grabbing a handful of her long hair, pulling, making her fold, then slip forward, inching off the back of the bike as my hand kept pulling until she was on her feet. My other hand moved out, pressed into her shoulder, pushed her down on her knees.
Her head angled up at me, brows pinched, eyes still a little unfocused, heated, lips still parted.
My finger moved up her neck, my thumb rubbing across her lower lip.
"Suck my cock," I demanded, hearing the raw need in my voice as my hand left her lip, went into my pants, pulled out my aching cock, stroking it down to the base as her eyes widened, recognition hitting.
"Lenore," I growled, snapping her out of her stupor as she looked up at me, then down at my cock, then back up at me.
I grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her forward, feeling the head of my cock press against her lip, then pausing, waiting.
I felt it before I saw it.
The slick, innocent flick of her tongue on the head, lapping up the pre-cum there before her lips spread over me, taking me in.
There was none of the expected awkwardness, the shyness.
Lenore sucked my cock like she was built for it, following the unspoken responses of my body, letting me rock deep, right into the back of her throat, not even trying to pull away as she made little choking sounds as her gag reflex adjusted to the invasion.
"Fuck, yeah, baby, just like that," I growled as she started working me faster, lips sucking tighter.
She didn't stop.
Not even as her eyes watered, as stray tears slipped down her cheeks, as they mingled with the spit and pre-cum from her lips, then dripped down her chin.
"Fuck," I groaned, thrusting harder and deeper, coming so hard that my vision went white for a long second before it cleared again, finding her looking up at me, eyes wide. "Swallow," I demanded as I slowly pulled my cock from her mouth, my hand touching her throat, feeling it as she swallowed back my cum, something that had never seemed quite as hot as it did right then. "Good girl," I said, watching as her lips curved up tentatively, needing the reassurance, reminding me again that this shit was all new to her, and she probably deserved someone who would ease her into it, not fuck the back of her throat like she was any commo
n cut slut I'd come across over the years.
Reaching down, I pulled her back onto her feet, turning her so that her back pressed to my chest, hands going around her, slipping up under her shirt. I cupped her breasts, teasing over the nipples until she was grinding her ass back against me, needy once again, the sweet smell of her practically intoxicating as my hand slid down her stomach, slipped between her legs, slid inside her.
But softer.
Slower.
"Next time, I want my cock here," I told her, lips on her ear, feeling the shudder that moved through her at the idea. "You want that too," I said as my fingers started moving inside her, her greedy walls getting tight already, her hips moving along with my thrusts, her body knowing exactly what it needed even if she wasn't fully initiated in all the ways her body could work with a man yet. "Say it," I demanded as she started to whimper.
"I want it too."
"You want my cock inside your pussy," I insisted, fingers starting to do circles inside her.
"I want... I want your cock inside my pussy," she repeated, voice breathless as her hips rocked harder, faster, wanting nothing of the slow torment, needing release again.
I wasn't done yet, though.
A third finger slipped inside her, widening her, getting those high whimpers to turn into low, throaty moans as she got to feel a hint of what it would feel like to have me inside her, stretching her walls, owning her completely.
Me.
Just me.
It shouldn't have, but the idea of that became important, all-consuming. To be the only one inside her. To claim her as my own.
"And after that," I said, one finger, slick with her wetness, slipped out of her, slid back slightly, pressed, then thrust in, "I want my cock in here," I told her as all three fingers started to thrust in tandem.
Fuck.
The sounds she made as I finger-fucked both her holes, taking every bit of her. She wasn't even touching me, and I swear I was on the edge of coming again just at the noises she was making.
Then just like that, she fucking shattered, crying out so loud the birds in the trees around us startled, flew off as her muscles contracted around my fingers for what felt like ages before they finally released, leaving her body falling back to mine, unable to hold her own weight again.
My arm went around her, holding her to me as my fingers slid out of her.
"Don't ever fucking leave me again," I demanded as she started to even out her breathing.
"I didn't leave you. I was... I just went for a walk. I got lost," she told me, head turning a bit, cheek pressing into my chest. "You came to get me."
"Of course I did."
And, I realized, it didn't have a fucking thing to do with Ace, or the others, or the mission, or anything except my desire to have her close.
"Lycus?" her voice called a moment later, soft, small.
"Yeah?"
"I want you inside me," she told me, voice even lower.
"Greedy pussy," I mumbled, my hand slapping it hard enough to get a shocked whimper out of her. "Not here. Not like this. But you're going to have it," I told her.
A promise.
A vow.
To the two of us.
I was through pretending I had anything even resembling self-control around her.
She wanted it.
I wanted it.
Nothing else mattered.
Except, of course, it did.
But I didn't give that enough thought until it was too late.
Chapter Thirteen
Lenore
The motorcycle was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before.
The second we took off from the shifter clubhouse, it was like my belly bottomed out, like my heart soared out of my chest.
It was terrifying.
And exhilarating.
It was one of the most thrilling moments of my life.
Until, of course, Lycus pulled the bike to a stop on the side of the road, stripped me out of my borrowed pants, and put his mouth on me, that forked tongue of his doing things to me I never could have imagined.
It shouldn't have been as sexy to please as to be pleased, but there was no denying the strange surge of power and joy and pride that flowed through me when I had him in my mouth, when I got those sounds out of him, had been able to bring him to release like he had been able to do with me.
Then.
Well.
His fingers.
And his words.
Even satisfied by him twice, I felt like a puddle of need when we got back to the house, finding all the others already back, gathered around.
"We'll deal with her later," Ace warned as Lycus led me inside. "Put her away for now."
"Put me away," I grumbled.
"Shush," Lycus demanded, grabbing my arm, leading me through to the kitchen, then down the basement stairs. "Don't fuck with Ace when he is pissed off."
"He didn't seem like he was angry."
"Because you don't know him. We're lucky he didn't rip Sully's fucking head off. He would have, for the way he spoke to him. But he wants you more than he wants to spill that shifter's blood. That doesn't mean he won't make you regret running off."
"I didn't run off. I took a walk."
"You knew you were supposed to be locked down here."
"So, I'm at fault for not being a model prisoner?" I shot back, eyes getting small.
"Don't," Ly demanded, sighing.
"Don't what? Tell the truth? Maybe I should have stayed with the shifters. At least they were up-front about what they wanted me for."
To that, Lycus closed his eyes, fighting some internal battle.
"We need your powers," he told me, shrugging.
"I barely have any powers," I objected.
"Tell that to that mutt with his burned side."
"That's... that is different," I told him, not wanting to admit that it was new, that I didn't know I was capable of it until recently. "I don't have much else."
"You have more than the others had. The rain. The burning. It's more. Ace knows how valuable that is. He has a lot of hopes that you can do what the others haven't."
"What's that?" I asked. "What do you want us for? Does it kill us? Is that why you need a new one every generation?"
"It doesn't kill you," he told me. And as forthcoming as he was being suddenly, I could also sense there was a lot he was keeping to himself, that he didn't want me to know.
"Well, something does."
"Yeah, babe, something kills everyone eventually."
"Except you," I said, shaking my head.
"Witches can have immortality if they want it."
"That is dark magic," I objected, feeling a cool sensation wash over me at the very idea.
In my coven, dark magic was talked of in hushed whispers with a lot of head shaking and gasps of disapproval about the methods involved.
"Yes. And even light witches can use dark magic."
"It is selfish," I objected.
"All the best things in life are," he shot back.
"That is a horrible thing to think. Selflessness is—"
"Not something my kind is known for," he cut me off. "Though, I can be generous in some things," he added, giving me a wicked look as his tongue flicked to the side of his mouth, making my sex clench hard at the memory of how it felt on me. "What?" he asked when my gaze fell to the floor. "The fuck is it now?"
"Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Act nice one moment after being cruel right before?"
"Cruelty is my nature, babe."
"And the kindness?"
"Shit. That must be from being up here for so long," he said, shrugging. "The humans rub off on you even if you don't want them to."
"Is it so terrible to be good like them?"
"Oh, babe, come the fuck on," he said, snorting. "Humans aren't good. If they were, the world wouldn't need me or my brothers up there. One human might be good, but as a whole, they're self-absorbed and sel
fish and petty and nasty. Not even for good reasons, either. Just shitty mortal pride. A need to be right. Don't place humans on a pedestal. They're not better than us."
"You're a demon," I shot back, shaking my head at him.
"And I don't act like anything else. I don't lie to get what I want. What you see, is what you get. There is some honor in that. Even if you don't like what I do."
That was, admittedly, fair.
"You act like you care about me," I told him, lifting my chin.
"Fuck," he hissed, turning away from me, inspecting the wall mural for a long moment. "That isn't pretending," he admitted after a meditative moment.
"You are telling me you care about me? As more than a witch for whatever you need my powers for?"
"It makes no fucking sense, but yeah. Yeah. Is that what you want to hear? Something is off here. I feel shit for you that I have no business feeling. Shit I've never felt before. It's fucked up."
"It's... fucked up... to feel something toward me?"
"Toward anyone, babe. I don't catch feelings. I didn't think I was capable. That any of us could be. But here we are. There are feelings. And not just the carnal kind. Though there is that."
"What other feelings?" I pressed, not sure I would ever catch him so candid again, and wanting to understand the situation completely.
"Possessive ones," he admitted, starting with what seemed to be the easiest to admit. Possessiveness was, at its core, a robust, manly trait, an easy feeling to experience, and to admit to having experienced. "You're not mine, but it feels like it. It makes no sense, but that's how it is."
"So you want to... own me?" I pressed, wanting to understand completely.
"Yes. No. Both, I guess," he told me, sighing. "Something inside me looks at you and says, "Mine." And with that comes the need to protect you. Make you happy. I don't fucking understand it, babe. It just is."
"I should hate you," I told him, watching as his head whipped over, gaze penetrating. "That is what I'm supposed to do to a man who took me from my home, my loved ones, who kept me captive, who talked down to me and shamed me and snapped at me even when I did nothing wrong. I should hate you."
"But?" he prompted when I didn't go on. If I wasn't mistaken, there was some vulnerability in his eyes as he asked as well. A demon shouldn't have been capable of it. Vulnerability was a trait of the light, and demons were all dark. Maybe he was right, though. All this time on earth had softened him.
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