My Immortal Knight 2: Love Bites

by Delilah Devlin

  His leg flinched and his jaw hardened. His gaze promised retribution. God, she hoped so.

  She licked his lightly furred thighs, her mouth moving ever closer to his groin. She felt the tension building in his legs. When she reached his smooth sac, she mouthed his balls, smearing the cinnamon-gel over them.

  His breath hissed. “It burns.”

  She slapped his thighs again. “I’ll just have to lick it off, won’t I?” She sucked first one, then the other ball into her mouth, laving his tender flesh with her tongue. Suctioning gently, she tugged and licked—swirling her tongue, mouthing him with her lips.

  His breath grew ragged and his hips lifted, a shallow thrust that reminded her there was so much more to explore. Darcy felt an answering twinge of desire tighten her vagina. One last lap, and she lifted her head. “All better?”

  His chest rose and fell rapidly, but he didn’t speak.

  Darcy grinned and hoped he was getting nervous. She walked her fingers up his cock and it pulsed. She tapped the engorged head. “Uh huh! Bad boy. Not yet.”

  Sliding her body over his groin, she decided to make a detour. When her face was level with his, she widened her legs and placed her knees on either side of his hips. Her open slit centered on his erection, and she rocked to caress it wetly with her labia.

  His eyes were open and glaring directly into hers. Darcy leaned down and sucked his lower lip into her mouth. Then she slid her lips over his, smearing the last of the gel. His tongue darted out and licked her, and then he nudged her face with his nose to push her back. He proceeded to remove every last trace of the gel from her mouth.

  “Mmmm,” he groaned appreciatively.

  Darcy held herself still over him, savoring the sensations. Her breasts speared his chest, her hips slid her open cunt over his cock, and she felt the rising tide of an orgasm.

  She gasped and drew away.

  His expression was triumphant as his hands clamped over her ass to hold her to him, pushing and pulling her hips faster, increasing the friction that was quickly building a fire in her loins. He’d turned the tables on her.

  Darcy fought for control, but his body rocked beneath her spread legs and pushed his cock harder against her pussy. She shoved against his chest but only succeeded in increasing the pressure at the apex of her thighs. Her orgasm blossomed, taking her breath, tightening her thighs around him.

  “Yes, baby. Come for me.”

  She shouted, jerking her hips faster, wanting to prolong the fractured ecstasy. Then it passed and her movements slowed. His hands continued to caress her buttocks. Then one slid to her chest and he fondled her breast as her heart slowed its rapid beating.

  Darcy drew a deep breath and opened her eyes.

  Quentin’s calculating gaze held hers and he pinched her nipple—hard.

  “Thanks,” she said, her voice rasping. “I needed that to help me keep control.”

  A single eyebrow rose. He twisted her nipple, then scraped his fingernail over the sensitive peak. “Why would you want control?”

  “I want you to beg,” she whispered.

  “That will never happen.”

  “Watch me.” She pressed his hands to the pillow beside his head and scooted down his body, pausing to suckle his flat brown nipples until their tiny points ruched.

  Her tongue swirled over the hair that covered his abdomen, and she smiled when his muscles tightened. He gasped when the point of her tongue dipped into his belly button and fluttered.

  Lower, she slid down his sweat-moistened flesh, licking the soft skin of his belly. She nudged aside his cock with her nose and applied small, sharp bites on his muscled abdomen that caused his penis to jump and pulse.

  Cupping his sac with one hand she smoothed her cheek over the length of his shaft. It smelled of her release and his own musk. But she wasn’t ready to give him the ultimate kiss. She slid lower and tongued his balls, sweeping below the sac to the follow the line to his asshole.

  “Sweet Jesus!” he muttered.

  Shoving at his legs, she urged him to raise his knees and widen them. Now, he was at her mercy.

  She tongued the tight ring and gloried in the sharp hiss of his gasp. She circled his asshole, lapped it with the flat of her tongue, then used the tip to tickle the center.

  “Enough Darcy!” She loved the desperate tone in his voice.

  “No. Not nearly enough. Have you ever been fucked here, Quentin?”

  “No!”

  “Then let me be the first.”

  Quentin started to sweat in earnest. Part of him wanted to wrest control from the vixen, the other part of him was dying to see where her curiosity would lead next. Would she really…

  She did! One slender finger pressed inward where none had ever dared enter before. He squeezed his buttocks, resisting, but she was relentless. Finally, he felt the tight ring give and she was inside.

  “So tight,” she murmured. “I believe you.” She swirled her finger and watched his face, no doubt to gauge his reaction.

  He fought to school his features into a mask, but she touched something inside him that had his hips jerking off the bed. “Darcy!” he warned. He didn’t dare move again, his arse burned already, his balls had tightened to stones, and his dick felt ready to burst. But he couldn’t give her this victory.

  “Poor baby. You look worried,” she said, and rose on her knees, her face poised above his aching rod. “Will you beg me, now?”

  Gritting his teeth, he refused to give her his answer, but his body spoke for him. His hips pumped, nudging his wayward little man against her lips.

  Her mouth opened and she took the head of his cock into her warm, wet mouth. Her teeth nibbled on the crown—tiny, sharp bites that sent electric shocks throughout his body and he bit back a moan.

  God, he needed her to take him into her throat. He pressed upward, trying to gain deeper access.

  But she drew back. “Tell me what you want.”

  Quentin stared at her. Her eyes glittered with triumph. The witch knew how close he was to exploding, but denied him. He closed his eyes and willed his flesh to resist her lure, but he’d already lost. He’d die if she didn’t take him now. “Please, Darcy. Suck my cock.”

  “Oh baby, you’ve made me so happy. But I don’t think you’re ready.”

  His eyes slammed open and he glared.

  Her smile promised unimaginable torments and Quentin cursed. With her finger up his arse, he was shackled to her whim.

  Her pink tongue lapped a lazy circle around the root of his cock, rising ever higher until she reached the head. He panted, hoping now she’d sink her mouth over him, but she pressed the tip of her wicked tongue into the small opening at the top, coaxing a drop of pre-cum.

  She groaned and slid her mouth down his shaft, the sound vibrating on his swollen flesh.

  His hips pumped upward, shallow, short thrusts that frustrated him. He craved her warm mouth, needed her deep, wet throat to swallow all of him.

  Her free hand encircled him at the base and she scraped her teeth along the rigid pole of his sex.

  Silently, he promised revenge. Promised to drive her mad with his tongue and cock. Until she begged for forgiveness for making him to plead. “Darcy, give me release. Take me, baby. Fuck me.”

  A second slender finger slid inside him and he couldn’t hold back his shout. Pain and ecstasy warred. Then she moved her fingers, in and out, while she fluttered her tongue along his raging erection. His cries ripped from the back of his throat. Suddenly, she stopped all movement. He watched her, his body tensing to resist her next assault.

  Her expression wasn’t gloating as he’d expected. Her cheeks flamed, her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. She was as seduced by her actions as he was. Her mouth closed over him and she sank on his cock, until his head bumped against the opening of her throat. Then she opened her jaws wider and he sank deeper into her.

  He heard a lusty, hoarse shout and then he was driving his hips upward, slamming into
her depths. When he came, his cries grew strangled, and finally, his balls exploded and cum spurted into her throat—long, hot streams of liquid fire. When he’d shot his load, he lay there, spent, allowing her to sooth him with her tongue and mouth, her low murmurs gentling his flesh.

  He’d get his revenge later on the little witch. After he’d recovered from the greatest orgasm he’d ever experienced.

  Chapter Ten

  Darcy yawned and stretched easing the pleasant aches in her muscles, only to discover something impeded the movement of her arms. Her eyes shot open. Her wrists were wrapped in pink cotton—her panties, she realized, and they were tied to the headboard.

  “Finally, you’re awake,” Quentin purred. He lay on his side, his head propped on one hand.

  He looked like a man who wasn’t in any hurry.

  And why should he be? she silently grumbled. He’d come, roaring like a freight train, then promptly fell asleep. Darcy had lain at his side, frustrated and hurting for what seemed like hours afterward. She’d had her way with him, but her victory had backfired.

  Now her body remembered where she’d left off. Every swollen, achy point throbbed with her heartbeat.

  She groaned inwardly. He was going to make her pay. He’d torture her with the sweet, sliding promise of his cock, fingers, and mouth until she begged as loudly as he had.

  She winced. Perhaps, she’d taken things a little far. Maybe, he’d accept an apology. “Quentin?”

  “Yes, love.” His voice was mild—with a hint of amusement.

  Shit! Shit! Shit! What does he want to hear?

  His body stretched beside hers, but not touching. The heat from his skin burned her. His mouth curved only slightly and his gaze never left her face.

  His stillness made her nervous as hell.

  “You know, everything you’re thinking is written on your face, love. It’s really quite remarkable.”

  Darcy wished she could school her features into a careless expression, but all her energies were spent holding her hips still. She clamped her thighs tightly and fought the quiver of arousal that threatened to shake her belly. Where will he start? With my breasts or my pussy? Oh God, will he take my ass?

  She gave up trying to pretend fearlessness and glared at him. “Will you just get it over with? What do you want me to say? I’ll say it.” Her voice rose. “Do you want to spank me? I’ll take it. Just get it over with, so you can fuck me.”

  Quentin’s smile broadened. “What an imagination you have! Did I leave you in a bad way, sweetheart?”

  “Yes!” Now she really would wail. “Touch me, please!” She rolled her hips toward him, pressing her thighs against his.

  He settled his hand on her stomach and pushed her back.

  “Are you going to leave me, again?” A sick panicked feeling made her stomach boil. “Are you going to make me wait? Because if you are, I’ll scream so loud the whole neighborhood will think I’m dying. And I won’t be so discriminating about who I beg to help me!”

  His gaze narrowed, his eyes glittering dangerously. “I told you. You will not take another lover. Never again. I watched while your partner pounded away at you. I won’t share you, again.”

  She thrilled at the possessive note in his voice. “Then fuck me. Make me yours. I’ll be yours as long as you want me.”

  His hand hovered over one breast, then settled, warm and heavy. “And if I want forever?”

  The nerve ending in her nipple fired, shooting a curling desire into her belly. She swallowed past the lump that lodged in her throat. “I’ll give it to you.”

  “You’d give me your life for a fucking?” he asked, his voice casual, but his expression was alert.

  She raised an eyebrow. “You are an extraordinary fuck,” she purred.

  “What makes me special? How can I know you aren’t simply saying what I want to hear?”

  Could he read her mind? “Baby,” she moaned, “I love the way you smell—of the sea and warm musk.”

  He raised a single eyebrow. He wasn’t impressed.

  “You only have to look at me and I melt. Your mouth torments me.” She writhed and arched her back to raise her breasts. “My tits are so tight and hard, they’re begging for your kisses.”

  “Huh!” he grunted, but molded her breast with his palm.

  She raised her knees and let them fall open.

  His gaze zeroed in on her moist slit.

  “I need your mouth and your huge cock. Take me.”

  His jaw rippled as he clamped his teeth tightly. “Tell me about my cock.” Was his voice hoarse?

  “You fill me to bursting. When you’re crammed up inside me so tight I can’t breathe, I don’t ever want to let you go.”

  Heat was in his gaze and he flared his nostrils. “There’s the little matter of what you did to me tonight.”

  “I’m sorry. I took it too far. I know I did. But you were so wonderfully responsive. I felt powerful and so goddamned turned on. Then you fell asleep…”

  “Did I leave you wanting?”

  “Yes!”

  “Good.” He reached over her and released the knots that bound her wrists.

  “That’s it?”

  “I find I can’t prolong your punishment. I’m hard as oak and I haven’t had the pleasure of your warm solace this evening.”

  Darcy opened her arms joyously.

  Quentin lowered himself over her, stretching his body, pressing her deep into the mattress from her shoulders to her toes.

  “I’m going to fuck you until you shout the roof off the house.” He pushed her hands onto the pillow and nudged her knees apart.

  Eager to begin, Darcy wriggled beneath him, wanting her legs free to clasp his hips, but he didn’t allow it.

  His cock nudged between her thighs, poking against her soaking slit.

  Darcy’s hips widened just far enough so he slipped between her thighs and pressed against her slick folds.

  Quentin’s jaw clenched and he drove his hips forward, pushing past her labia, into her channel, all the way inside her until he butted her womb. He released a groan.

  Darcy echoed it.

  But he didn’t move again. “Well, here we are.”

  Darcy waited for the storm to erupt, but he remained still. Her eyes narrowed. She knew he’d conceded too quickly.

  She tugged her hands from beneath his and traced the center of his spine, lightly, teasingly.

  “Darcy,” he growled, “You’re not going to wrest control from me.”

  Oh yeah? I know your hot buttons, baby. She dug her nails into his back and scraped them down to the top of his buttocks.

  “Witch.” His mouth descended and he circled his lips over hers. She tempted him with her tongue, reaching out to lick his closed lips, stabbing at the seam.

  He resisted her invitation.

  But she’d just started. Her hands glided lower and she cupped his firm ass, giving him a squeeze.

  His cock pulsed, but he didn’t move inside her. He dragged his lips from hers. “Have you no patience? Is it not enough that I’m inside you, filling you? It is for me. You’re cunt is hot and moist, and your lust is fragrant.”

  Darcy glared at him. The bastard was going to make her wait. This was almost more diabolical than her last “lesson.” He was there! All the way up her. How could he resist their heat? Her hips longed to squirm and flex, but his weight trapped her movements.

  But he’d forgotten about one set of muscles over which he had no control. She tightened her pussy and released, tightened and released.

  And her hands were free. She reached until her fingers found the crease of his ass and trailed downward, then pressed his tightly furled anus. Grinning, she said, “Can you resist? Hmmm?” She circled one finger and felt his thighs tremble atop hers.

  Leaning upward she bit his lower lip and dragged his mouth down to hers, sucking his lip inside her mouth, while her hands continued their torture below.

  Sweat broke out on his face and chest, his
arms began to shake, and his dick moved an inch deeper.

  With a hoarse cry, he rammed a knee between her legs, shoving her thighs wide and pulled out of her entirely.

  Darcy moaned a protest and pressed her finger into his ass.

  Holding himself above her on his arms, a deep rumble built in the back of his throat.

  Darcy chuckled and poked her finger in and out. The man did love a finger-fuck. “What’s it gonna be, Bat-boy?”

  Quentin broke into a full-fledged growl, and Darcy knew she’d won.

  He grabbed her and rolled her roughly onto her stomach. Then he pulled her hips up and drove his cock straight into her, cramming himself inside her.

  Darcy yelped and rose on her hands—the better to meet his powerful thrusts.

  Each forward drive jerked her whole body until she grasped the headboard to brace herself.

  It was almost too much—too deep, too hard, too fast. His hands gripped her cheeks and jerked her higher. He rammed forward as far as he could go, grinding himself inside her, lifting and lowering her hips to increase the friction where her pussy met the crisp, wiry hairs at his groin.

  Darcy hung onto the bars, her hips jolting, until her orgasm hit—an explosion of sensation that tightened her vagina and seared the breath in her lungs. Quentin was right there with her, his steel rod pistoning against her buttocks faster, his hands squeezing her ass in a bruising grip, and then he released a roar that should have rattled the windows.

  As he slowed, Darcy gasped, her breath hitching on a burst of laughter. “I’m going to have to check the shingles on the roof in the morning.”

  Quentin collapsed against her back, taking them both to the mattress. “Madam, will you ever let me have the last word?”

  * * * * *

  Quentin stirred three teaspoons of sugar into his tea and ignored the amused smiles from his two companions.

  Seated around the kitchen table, the three vampires took turns yawning sleepily.

  Emmy stretched her arms above her head and giggled. “Well, I’m going to say it. No Dylan, I know you think it’s impolite to comment, but I swear Quentin shouted loud enough to wake the dead last night.” She ignored Quentin’s scathing glance. “What on earth did she do to you? I think I could use some pointers.”