Evernight

by Kristen Callihan

  The proud jut of his cock drew her attention, and her thighs clenched with delicious heat.

  “You must know,” she murmured, still looking, “the effect you have on the female sex.”

  He moved then, prowling towards the bed, to crawl over her. Before they even touched, the heat coming off his body enveloped her. She lay back, and he hovered over her, his dark gaze meeting hers. “The only female I want to affect,” he nipped her lower lip, “is you.”

  Holly nipped him back. “Then let me show what you do to me.”

  “Anything you desire, love.”

  He let her ease him back onto the bed.

  “Rest against the headboard,” she told him.

  Readily, he complied. There was a glint in his eyes, as though her orders excited him. Or perhaps it was simply that they were both here, at this moment. Together.

  “Grab hold of the rails.” Her voice was only slightly unsteady. The steel headboard of her bed was composed of several bars, laid out in a grid fashion.

  Keeping his eyes upon her, Will spread his arms wide and clasped his hands around the bars. Instantly, the metal grew pliant then wrapped around his wrists before solidifying once more. Bound, Will jerked in surprise. He glanced at his trapped arms then turned back to her.

  Holly’s heart beat hard within her chest, and tension gathered along her spine. Would he be angry? Demand release? Think her crazed?

  A slow, satisfied smile curled his lips, and something within her relaxed.

  “I knew it,” he said in a low rumble. “Under all that starch, you’re as dirty-minded as I am.”

  It was a lovely compliment. And the pose did lovely things to his chest and arms, stretching those sinewy muscles out and drawing her gaze down to his narrow hips and thick cock, so hard now that it lay flat and pulsed against his tight belly.

  Holly undid her corset and let it fall to the floor but kept her chemise on.

  “Ah, now love,” he complained, as she crawled upon the bed and straddled his thighs, “don’t stop there. Take that thing off.”

  Preoccupied, Holly ran her fingers over his taut chest, pausing to stoke the tiny bud of his nipple. Will shuddered, but his quest did not waver.

  “Give me something, darling,” he went on thickly. “Show us your tits, there’s a good lass.”

  At his crude words, her nipples tightened. Never one to miss a thing, his eyes focused on the change, and he licked his lips, his voice dipping lower, going rougher. “Come now, petal. Show them to me.” His gaze seemed to burn through the thin material of her chemise. “Those sweet tips are practically begging to be revealed.”

  Heat pulsed through her sex. Oh, but he was far too adept at destroying her composure. Hands shaking, she watched his face as she pulled the tie that held the front of her chemise closed. His breathing sped up, his attention rapt as the fabric sagged and then parted, exposing her to his gaze.

  His chest hitched, the muscles along his torso bunching. “I’ve wanted to see you for so long,” he rasped. “Gorgeous. You’re gorgeous.”

  She thought much the same of him.

  He rocked his hips, the movement edging her closer. “Lean in and let me give them a kiss.”

  A heady sense of power washed over her. Dizzy with it, Holly grabbed hold of the headboard at either side of his head and bent close, bringing her breasts up to his mouth. He wasted no time, but craned his head forward and licked. The flat of his tongue laved her sensitive nipple, and Holly groaned.

  Arms shaking, she held on and let him do what he willed. Again and again he came at her, licking and lightly suckling the tip of her breast until she sagged into him, weak with heat and desire.

  “The other one,” he demanded on a growl, his breath hot on her skin. Without thought, she offered him her other breast, and he gave it the same, thorough attention. When she whimpered and arched her back, he moaned against her and angled his head to draw her in deeper. Each sharp tug of his mouth sent a bolt of heat through her.

  Wicked demon that he was, Will bent his knees, bringing his thighs up. The action tipped her further forward, and her sex slid over the hard length of his cock. Instantly, he bucked his hips, grinding himself between her legs.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Holly managed between gasps. “I’m not through with you.”

  With a punch of power, two of the metal bars upon the footboard snapped out and snagged his ankles. Will yelped in surprise as they drew his legs wide and straight.

  “Evil woman.” His fangs flashed. “You’re going to be the death of me yet.”

  When Holly settled her weight back onto him, he sucked in a breath between his clenched teeth, and his hips shifted as if he couldn’t keep them still. “Ah… gods, put me out of my misery. Put me in you.”

  She almost relented under the plaintive look in his dark eyes. But she had plans for him. Because while she wanted him more than her next breath, he needed more. He needed to know that he was worth more than idle pleasure. He needed to understand that he was her everything.

  “No,” she told him, pulling her chemise free from her body. “Not quite yet.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  No demon in his right mind would leave himself so exposed. So helpless. Yet here Will was, stretched out and bound hand and foot as a man upon a cross. And he loved it. Loved that his practical Holly liked to play.

  Now fully trapped, with his legs spread wide upon the bed, his cock at full mast and impatient, he waited for her next move. Her pert bottom rested upon his thighs as she contemplated him. And he grinned back, not saying a word. Hells bells, but she had him stirred up. He could hardly wait for her next form of torture.

  She cupped his jawline, touching him as though he were something breakable.

  Will hadn’t expected that. He’d predicted more wet, scorching kisses, frantic touching, pushing up into her slick quim and letting her ride him. But none of those things occurred.

  Light as butterfly wings, her lips touched the tip of his nose. Another delicate kiss upon the crest of his cheek. The ridge of his brow, his forehead, temple. A slow shake built up within him as she mapped the lines of his face.

  “Holly…”

  “Shhh.” She kissed his eyelid, then his mouth. Once. Then once more. When he tried to deepen the kiss, she moved off.

  “Holly,” he said again, more forcefully.

  She paid him no heed. Kisses feathered his jaw, moved down his neck. His head tipped back, his gaze alighting on the ceiling. Her fingers threaded through his hair, a light exploration as if she were simply enjoying the texture.

  Will’s heart churned a hard pace, the need to move, to free himself and end this gentle torture had him clutching the bars on the headboard. Still she kissed him. Breaking defenses he didn’t know he’d erected.

  Holding his gaze, she leaned forward, her sweetly curved belly pressing into his throbbing cock, the silken tips of her breasts skimming his chest. Will groaned low and pained. Her smooth, cool skin was a balm, yet inflamed him all at once. Her slim arms wrapped about his neck. And she hugged him.

  He felt the touch down to his soul. And some dark emotion swelled up within, choking him.

  “Holly, love,” he croaked out, “sweet petal, let me pleasure you—”

  “Shh.” She snuggled in closer. “Let yourself feel. It’s all right. It is only me. Here with you.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and fought against the hot prickles behind his lids that threatened to unman him. His breath came in sharp, agitated bursts. Still she held him.

  “I will not let you go, William.”

  He swallowed convulsively. She held on tighter. “You are mine now.”

  A choked sound left him—half laugh, half sob. “Evermore.”

  As if she’d been waiting for his capitulation, she tilted her head and placed a soft kiss upon the vulnerable spot on his neck where his artery lay beneath his skin. Slowly she rose to cup his cheek. Her smile was radiant in the amber light. And when she leaned cl
ose and placed a soft, open kiss upon his mouth, his breath hitched, flowing into her.

  “I love you,” he told her. It needed to be said. She needed to know. So he said it again. “I love you.”

  His confident Evernight merely gave a Mona Lisa smile. “And I have loved you from the moment you helped me bind your wrist to mine.”

  Shock, joy, heat slammed through him, flooding his veins. She loved him. She’d loved him all along, just as he’d loved her. His voice barely worked when he found the strength to answer. “Enjoy having me bound, do you?”

  He wanted to be set free so that he could capture her, do all the things he’d promised.

  “Mmm,” she hummed, “I do.”

  The sound of her contentment seemed to vibrate straight down to his cods. And then she leaned in and kissed his nipple. Forget freedom. Her tongue flickered over the hardening tip, and his hips canted in reaction. Forget anything but letting her do as she pleased.

  Her hands trailed down, smoothing over his skin, leaving a wake of warmth and pleasure in their path. He sighed and craned his head down. “Kiss me,” he nearly begged. He wanted her mouth. Her taste in his.

  Holly placed a series of light, delicious kisses down the center of his abdomen. “I am.”

  Were she not torturing him, he would have smiled. As it was, his skin prickled in pleasure, and his abdominal muscles clenched with a sweet ache.

  “Do you remember,” she murmured almost conversationally, as she nuzzled and kissed around his navel and over to his hip, “when you asked me if I thought of your cock when I massaged you?”

  Her hand skimmed over his length, a light tease that had him twitching.

  “Yes?” It came out strangled.

  Carefully, she cupped his cods, and he whimpered.

  “Every bloody time, love,” she whispered, stroking him.

  Bless. Her.

  Slim cool fingers wrapped about him, and almost delicately, she lifted his cock up, held it just before her lips. From beneath her long, inky lashes, she peered at him. “Do you want me to kiss you here, William?”

  His cock pulsed in immediate approval. “To start,” he rasped.

  She gave him a sly look then bent over him, her midnight hair pooling about his thighs, and his gut clenched in anticipation. She kissed the very tip. He felt it in his heart.

  Merciful hell but she gave his aching cock the same attention as she’d done the rest of him, kissing her way down its length and back up again. The tip of her tongue made a slow, languid circuit around his engorged head, and the bed creaked ominously as he tensed.

  Another lazy lick had him groaning. She kissed him again, almost a suckle but not quite.

  “Ah now, love, don’t tease.” It sounded far too much like a plea. The muscles in his arms quivered, his chest aching from the strain, and still he tried to edge lower, tilt his hips up enough to follow the brush of her lips. “Put it in your mouth, love,” he whispered, sweating. “Suck me.”

  She drew him deep into her hot mouth.

  “Ah, hell.” He strained against the bonds, thrusting helplessly. “Oh, Jesus, yes… Evernight, just… God! Just like that…” He panted as she sucked him harder. The sight of her delicate pink lips around his cock, of her cheeks hollowing as she drew back, had him shaking with restraint. He wouldn’t come, he wouldn’t.

  The tip of her tongue swirled around his head and licked his slit. He bucked, shouting before he ground his teeth and panted.

  “Release me.” Sweat dripped down his neck, his heart threatening to lock it pumped so hard. “Let me touch you now. I need to touch you.”

  With a snap, the metal bonds broke, and his limbs, tingling and throbbing from the sudden freedom, surged forward. On a growl, he wrapped his arms about Holly’s slim frame and tossed her back onto the bed before following her down. His lips caught hers, devouring her mouth as he thrust hard and deep into her heat, his hands roving, touching skin softer than silk.

  “Lovely, perfect, darling.” He ploughed into her, all speed and frantic need. He could not get enough.

  And she met him stroke for stroke, undulating against him as he cupped her pert breast and held it firm so that he could draw her tight nipple into his mouth. Good glory but she drove him mad with lust. He licked her like cream, following the pale blue vein that ran up her breast to her neck. Up further to her sweet mouth.

  Their gazes clashed. Wild tangles of her raven hair spread over the pillow. Her skin was dewy and flushed, and her eyes, dark, pure blue, gleamed up at him. With adoration. For him.

  The frantic need that had swept him up eased. He stopped, holding himself deep within her. Until she wriggled beneath him, her sex clenching in impatience. Will smiled. And so did she.

  “Hello,” he whispered.

  Her smile turned tremulous. “Hello.”

  Bracing his forearms on either side of her slim shoulders, Will set a new rhythm. Going slow. So that she would feel every inch of him moving through her. It was agony, but he did not abate.

  “You’re so beautiful.” The words burst out of him. “Holly. Petal-mine.”

  Her eyes glistened. “William.” It was a breath of sound. “The way you make me feel…”

  She stroked his back, long sweeps that sent ripples of pleasure over his skin. He caught her free hand. Their fingers threaded. “Hold onto me,” he whispered.

  It shocked him how much it mattered, that she not let go. Her grasp tightened. He swallowed thickly, shivers of heat dancing down his spine. He barely moved, barely breathed, and yet it felt as though he would come at any moment. Heat gathered in a tight fist that held his cods and had his gut tightening with pleasure-pain. His breath came out like a bellows, and he thrust, slow, hard.

  Never looking away, Holly wrapped her slim legs about his waist. Her lips parted on an indrawn breath, and the tight clasp of her sex began to milk him as she quietly came. He could hold back no longer. He came so hard that he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. The edges of his sight dimmed as he arched over her, his body locked up and shaking as pleasure rolled through him.

  Weak as a babe, he relaxed into her embrace. For the first time in his life, Will knew perfect contentment.

  Not long ago, there was a time when the Cremorne Gardens would have been filled with light, music, and laughter at night. Now it lay forgotten and abandoned. Dry leaves skittered down the wide boulevard that led to the wrought-iron Chinese pagoda.

  Adam strolled along, stepping over the cracks in the pavement. Delicate iron archways, once lit up with hundreds of little drop crystal bulbs, now stood dark and creaking against the wind. There was something utterly enchanting about abandoned pleasure parks. If he closed his eyes, Adam could almost hear the ghosts of past laughter, the blaring horns of a trombone played long ago. And though all he could scent now was the moldering of dead leaves and the rot drifting off the nearby Thames, he fancied there was also a bit of roasted chestnuts and the scorch of fireworks lingering like phantoms of yesterday.

  Once at the pagoda, whose roof had rusted in spots, he sat comfortably upon the top step that led to the pavilion where brass bands used to play. Selecting the top step had been a calculated move, for Miss Eliza May, whom he’d come to think of as the anchor at the end of his chain, was forced to sit upon the step below.

  She did so without grace, plopping down in a puddle of horrid homespun skirts covered with dried and blackened bloodstains. Adam scowled at the sight. He’d gifted her with heaps of gowns, a rainbow of silks and satins, and she had eschewed them all, preferring to wear the gown she’d died in. Like a taunt.

  Spine straight, her crown of golden curls facing him, she was silent as usual. And he sighed. A series of wide arches, punctuated by little gas lamps, ringed the pagoda. “They used to dance here.” His voice echoed in the silence. “Under the lights. Some nights, there’d be a thousand souls dancing, promenading, laughing in this spot.”

  Nothing. Not a sound but his own bloody hopeful voice.

 
“During the days, there’d be equine shows, races. I once lost three thousand quid on a race.” He’d been disguised as a bored and spoiled nob at the time. In some ways, losing was more fun for him than winning. He’d paid up, had a laugh with the gents. Just like any other man.

  Adam resisted the urge to fidget and stared hard at the back of Eliza May’s head. A lone strand of hair, caught by the breeze, danced about on the frayed edge of her bodice. “Over in the gardens,” he went on conversationally, “they used to have a maypole. You’ve heard of maypoles?”

  She was an American, after all. God knew the Yanks were sadly lacking in culture.

  She didn’t move. But that was expected. However, he was becoming more adept in reading her, and by the tightness gathering along her pretty, slender neck, he knew she was listening. Perhaps annoyed with his question.

  “Lasses and lads used to dance around it while holding onto long, colorful ribbons,” he explained, even though he suspected he needn’t. “Up and over, round and round, until they threaded the pole. I fell in love with a lass dancing around the maypole one May Day.”

  That got her. The length of her back went rigid. He smiled, but it wasn’t out of pleasure. The backs of his teeth met as resentment swarmed in. “She was a pretty piece, glossy brown curls and wide, blue eyes. Willing too. But I could not claim her. Because I was searching.” He leaned closer, taking in the scent of Eliza May, of wool, woman, and resentment. “For you.”

  An inward breath, sharp and stiff, sounded. Eliza in shock? Good.

  Adam chuckled darkly. “Yes, you. It’s always been for you.” Cursed to search for the one soul that would complete his. “The irony is that I don’t even like you. Seven hundred years I’ve searched, and what do I find? You. Resentful, hateful, and spoilt.”