by Sarah Piper
She responded without hesitation, and Gabriel took a moment to admire the sight of her, naked and glistening. Even after he’d made her come with his mouth, she was already ready for more. Desperate for it.
“You knew I’d be watching you tonight,” he said, stepping out of his pants and boxers. “On the cameras.”
A silent nod, a fresh blush creeping across her chest. Her gaze raked over his body, head-to-toe and back again, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The scent of her blood was almost as strong as the scent of her desire, both threatening to overpower him.
He could still taste her on his tongue, and now he wanted more.
When Gabriel spoke again, his voice was rough.
“Touch yourself, Jacinda. Show me exactly how you wanted to drive me wild.”
She arched her back and slid a hand between her thighs, fingers grazing her clit, then dipping inside, pulling back to skim across her clit once more. With every stroke, her skin grew darker, the twin scents of blood and lust invading his senses. Unraveling him.
“Were you thinking of me before?” he whispered, taking a step closer to the bed. “Wondering what my mouth would feel like?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Are you thinking of me now? Remembering how hard you came on my tongue?”
“Fuck. I… yes.”
“Yes what, little moonflower?”
“Yes, I’m thinking of you now. I’m always thinking of—”
She cut off abruptly, but the confession was out, hanging on the air between them, driving him wild.
“Stop,” he commanded.
Her fingers stilled, and Gabriel climbed on top of her, grabbing her wrists and pinning them over her head. The belt lay discarded beside her, so he snatched it up and bound her once more, looping the ends around a spindle in the headboard, pulling it tight.
Cupping her face, he met her desirous gaze and whispered against her mouth, “Tell me to stop.”
A vehement shake of that silver-blonde head, and he was on her once more, mouth descending on her throat, slowly kissing his way down the length of her body, gripping her thighs and pushing them apart, desperate for another taste.
He buried his face in that red-hot pussy, licking and teasing, taking his fill. Jacinda writhed and bucked beneath him, but this time, he wouldn’t let her come so easily. This time, it was all for him.
His tongue swirled around her superheated flesh, sucking, kissing, demanding. He brought her to the very edge, then stopped, kissing his way back up her thighs, her stomach, her breasts.
Hovering over her once more, he lowered his mouth toward hers, ready to claim her in a kiss that would leave her breathless.
“Stop. Stop!” She jerked her head to the side, avoiding his kiss.
Gabriel went still. Cold.
“Afraid to taste yourself on my tongue, little moonflower?” he whispered. “Or are you finally coming to your senses and calling off this madness?”
“I’m… neither. It’s just…” Jacinda let out a trembling sigh. Beneath the press of his body, her nipples stiffened, her flesh hot and silky.
“Tell me,” he demanded, doing his best to school his irritation, undoubtedly failing.
Jacinda turned to face him. Narrowed her eyes. “You don’t even remember me, do you?”
Gabriel’s brow furrowed. What game was she playing now? What did his recollections of her have to do with the fact that she wouldn’t kiss him?
“From your brother’s party,” she prompted. “At Ravenswood?”
“Should I?” he teased.
Hurt flickered in her eyes, but she was as talented as Gabriel at donning a mask, and in the span of a single heartbeat, her smirk was back in place.
With a casual shrug, she said, “Heard you fooled around with one of Renault’s blood slaves. Human girl. Billie?”
“Right.” He brought a hand to her breast, drawing a light circle around her nipple. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”
“Red hair, tight dress. Gorgeous.”
“Hmm. Still doesn’t ring a bell.”
Her smirk faded. “Seriously?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, witch. Guess your little friend didn’t make much of an impression.”
“She’s not my friend.”
“Nor mine, apparently.”
“I hate you,” she breathed, and the surge of fire in her eyes told him she’d meant it.
Good. Gabriel hated her too. Hated the way she made him feel—unhinged, untethered. Hated the fact that he’d been dreaming about this moment ever since that first fucking time he’d seen her in the gardens that night, bent over some exotic plant in his brother’s collection, looking more at home in the dirt than he’d ever felt anywhere in his pathetic immortal life.
Remember her?
Fucking hell, he’d watched her from the shadows for an hour, silently following her from one path to another. And in that hour, she’d lodged herself so thoroughly in his head that later that night, when another woman offered her artery, then dropped to her knees and took his cock in her mouth, the only reason he didn’t stop her was that he’d hoped it would get the witch out of his fucking head.
Hadn’t worked, though.
In Gabriel’s mind, it was Jacinda’s soft gasp as he bit into the vein pulsing on the other woman’s neck. Jacinda’s silky locks he’d fisted, fucking her hot little mouth. Jacinda’s blue eyes gazing up at him as he spilled down her throat…
Gabriel wrapped his hand around her throat, drawing his mouth close once again. In a low growl, he said, “I don’t need you smitten, little moonflower. Just willing.”
She clenched her teeth, frustration warring with desire in her eyes, as if the latter stood a chance.
Gabriel shifted between her thighs, teasing her entrance with his cock. “Stop or don’t stop?”
“I… oh, fuck,” she whispered. “No kissing. Not on the mouth.”
“Fine.”
“I mean it.”
“As do I.” He flashed a wicked grin. “From now on, your smart little mouth is reserved solely for my cock.”
Lust heated her gaze, and she lifted her head, pressing the gentlest kiss to his earlobe. The gesture felt uncomfortably intimate. “Swear it, Prince.”
“Bloody hell, woman. I swear it.”
“Then my answer is don’t stop.” She lowered her head and looked into his eyes once more. “A hundred million don’t stops if you’ll please just fuck me and—”
Gabriel clamped a hand over her mouth and plunged inside her.
No more talking. No more swearing. Only thrusting and grinding and fucking and holy hell, minutes later he was halfway to Death’s door, ready to call it a day on two hundred fifty-odd years.
Fucking her mouth had been ecstasy. But this?
Bloody hell, she felt so good. Perfect. With his hand still clamped over her mouth, Gabriel stopped and rested his head on her chest, ear pressed to her heart, its wild rhythm nearly hypnotizing him.
Jacinda sighed, her warm breath stirring his hair, and for a moment they lay together, unmoving, unhurried. Gabriel felt as if they’d stopped time.
Maybe the little witch had done just that.
But all too soon her hips were writhing again, thighs tightening around him, and Gabriel began a series of slow, torturous thrusts, pushing in deep and dragging out, inch by devastating inch, every movement making him more hungry for her. More needy.
Without warning she bit the fleshy part of his hand between thumb and index finger, hard enough to draw blood, then licked his thumb, sucking it between her lips. The blood stained her mouth a dark cherry, a sight that sent a shock of urgent heat to his balls.
More. Harder. Deeper.
He slid his hand down to her throat, wrapping her in a bloody grip, absolutely owning her as he fucked her in the moonlight. It painted them both in washes of silver and blue, eerie and incandescent. Gabriel felt like a ghost. A nightmare. A wicked thing sent from some foul,
unnamed hell to destroy her, just as he’d warned.
Everywhere his mouth touched her flesh, he marked her, sucking and biting, claiming.
Then, when he knew she couldn’t hold out another moment, when he knew he wouldn’t be far behind, he tightened his grip on her throat and made his final command.
“Come for me, little moonflower.”
He rocked against her clit, hitting her slow and deep, her thighs quaking as he continued to dominate her, and then he felt it—fucking hell, he felt it—the blood rushing through her veins, her heart slamming against her ribs, the white-hot burst of desire exploding inside her. He released his hand and she cried out for him, her body pulsating around his cock, thighs gripping his hips, everything about her drawing him down into that dark, beautiful spiral.
A tremor rolled through his body, and when he came, he roared with the force of it. He held her face in his hands, and in the depths of her mesmerizing blue eyes, Gabriel saw the stars.
He rolled onto his hip and looked at his witch, studying her curves in the moonlight. The dark smear of his blood still glistened on her chest, the taste of her still lingered in his mouth. A dark, possessive hunger unfurled inside him.
He slung an arm across her body, pulling her close.
“Mine.”
The word came unbidden, as much a declaration to her as it was a warning to himself. He’d just come harder than he’d ever come in his fucking life, yet already he wanted her again. Craved her—the feel of her skin. The taste of her desire. The kiss she’d thus far denied him.
All of it.
Which meant he absolutely couldn’t have her again.
One and done. That’s how it had to be.
Because if he didn’t walk away now, that craving would turn into a full-blown addiction. And that… Well, Gabriel preferred not to think about where that might lead.
He rolled over and straddled her again, but instead of plunging back inside her like he desperately wanted to do, he loosened the belt and released her.
“Okay?” he asked, gently massaging her hands.
Jacinda nodded, still dazed from their encounter.
Gabriel knew the feeling.
Forcing himself to finally back away, he left her alone in the bed and retrieved his shirt from the floor, shoving his arms through the sleeves.
But he couldn’t tear his gaze from hers.
Jacinda sat up on the end of the bed, toned legs dangling over the side. From her tantalizing perch, she watched him fasten each button as though she’d never seen such a modern marvel as a men’s dress shirt.
Heaviness hung in the air between them. Desires still unmet, fetishes unexplored, territories unmapped.
Lips—regrettably—unkissed.
When she spoke, her tone was light and teasing. “You’re a lot of things, Prince, but I never thought I’d be calling you a liar.”
“Excuse me?”
“Tonight, in the wine cellar. You said if we ever hooked up, it wouldn’t be quick.” She glanced at her wrist as though she wore a watch and flashed a devilish grin, the playful light in her eyes unlocking something inside him that needed to go right back into its fucking cage.
Half dressed, Gabriel climbed onto the bed and crawled over her naked body, forcing her to lie back again, her eyes alight with some new challenge, some new fire.
And there again, just as it was the night he’d found her outside the hospital and carried her home, the tiniest flicker of vulnerability.
He lowered his mouth to hers, hovering just above her lips, everything in him demanding that he break his vow and steal the kiss she’d refused him.
He wondered how long she’d truly resist.
Again, she turned her face away, avoiding a collision of mouths and tongues, breath and teeth.
It only made him want it more.
He’d licked and tasted her most intimate curves, fucked her, owned her.
But he still hadn’t kissed her.
“What I said in the wine cellar, witch,” he whispered, “applies only if I’ve invited you into my bed. This was neither my bed nor an invitation.”
“No?” She reached for the buttons he’d just finished securing, already working them loose again. The gentle scrape of her fingernails against his throat made him ache with need. “What would you call it, Prince?”
Scorching.
Mind-blowing.
A fucking fantasy to revisit in the shower every night for the rest of his cursed immortal life…
His cock stirred between her thighs, the evidence of desire—his and hers both—still hot and wet between them.
“Why did you refuse my kiss?” The words were out before he could stop them, and before he could take them back, Jacinda’s eyes filled with sadness.
“Not just yours. Everyone’s. Kissing just isn’t something I… I’ve never… It’s the one thing I won’t do with someone unless I…” She trailed off, embarrassment staining her cheeks.
Love them, she’d wanted to say. He could almost taste the words. Could almost feel the weight of them in his heart.
“Never?” he asked, smiling softly, despite himself.
“Look, I know it’s stupid, okay? But no, I’ve never kissed anyone. Let the mockery commence.”
He traced the outline of her cupid’s bow lips with his thumb, his smile fading. In that moment, he almost wished he and Jacinda didn’t hate each other. “It’s not stupid, Jacinda. It’s—”
“Stay with me,” she whispered urgently, loosening another button on his shirt. “Just a little longer. One more time, then we’ll call it a night.”
Her hips arched toward him, enticing him with her heat. Her scent. He stared at her soft mouth, marveling at the fact that no one had tasted it.
Never kissed anyone… Let the mockery commence…
When he finally met her gaze again, the crack of vulnerability in her eyes widened into a fissure, and he knew if he stayed any longer, he’d fall right into it.
One and done, you knob. Remember?
Before she could ensnare him with another of her deadly spells, Gabriel batted her hand away from the buttons and rose from the bed, taking his belt with him. For some inexplicable reason, he didn’t bother with the pants.
It was his building, after all. If anyone had a damned thing to say about it, he’d tear their bloody hearts out.
“Goodnight, Jacinda.” It was all he could spare before he turned away and stalked off, leaving her to bathe in the eerie winter moonlight alone.
He was out of her bedroom and nearly to the front door when he heard the siren call of her voice again. If she was bothered by his abrupt dismissal, she didn’t reveal it. Instead, she laughed—at him, near him, fucking surrounding him—and called out, “Does this mean you’re not interested in what the Chernikov demon told me about Renault Duchanes?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tea. That’s what the situation called for. It gave Jaci something to focus on, something to keep her hands occupied when all she really wanted to do was grab that infuriating vampire, shove him against the wall, and climb him like a fucking tree.
At the same time, she also wanted to hex him and punch him in the nuts.
The contradiction was inconvenient, to say the least.
Frustration bubbled up inside, making her tremble. She did her best to steady herself, pouring two steaming mugs of vanilla mint tea, the leaves harvested from the plants he’d bought for her on Obsidian’s opening night.
She’d kept one for her apartment. Every time she saw it or caught a whiff of its bright, invigorating scent, she thought of Gabriel and smiled, even when she was pissed at him.
She wondered if he even remembered.
“I hope you like mint.” She carried the mugs to the dining table, where he sat waiting patiently. Silently. Maddeningly.
“It’s fine, Jacinda.” He reached for his tea just as she handed it over, the brush of his fingers sending a little zap of pleasure across Jaci’s skin. She drew back
, hating that little zap. Hating the vampire who’d caused it.
It was good she was dressed now. In layers. With a hood and zipper that went all the way up to her chin. Layers meant fewer chances of spontaneous loss of wardrobe resulting in hot kisses on bare skin and smooth, velvet-soft strokes of his—
Nope. Not going there again.
One and done, just like she’d wanted.
“Tell me about the demon, Jacinda,” Gabriel said now, his icy veneer firmly back in place.
Seven hells. How was it even possible that not half an hour ago, she was having the most intense, incredible, life-altering sex with the guy? Had she imagined it?
She closed her eyes. Let out a slow breath. A dull ache pulsed between her thighs, flooding her with heat and memories and desperation…
Are you thinking of me now? Remembering how hard you came on my tongue?
“Jacinda?”
“Yes!” she breathed. “I mean…” She opened her eyes. Cleared her throat. Took the chair across from him and buried her face in her mug, cursing herself for letting him so thoroughly invade her mind.
Cursing herself for wanting him to so thoroughly invade the rest of her.
Again.
“I’ve been working the guy for days,” she finally said, forcing herself to focus on the demon from the bar. “He thinks he’s got me wrapped around his finger.”
“Does he?”
The sharp note in Gabriel’s voice made her look up.
Those piercing green eyes narrowed, his broad shoulders tensing. He’d put on his pants but hadn’t finished buttoning his shirt, and now it gaped open, giving her another glimpse of his smooth, hard pecs, all the dips and shadows her mouth still longed to explore.
Jaci turned back to her tea, taking a deep, clarifying breath of mint. Dodging his question, she said, “We need the intel, Prince. Leverage. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Gabriel sighed. From the corner of her eye, she caught him folding his arms across his chest. “And what leverage have you managed to gain?”
“For one thing, the grays. It’s not the amulets we need to worry about now.”
“I gathered as much when we fought them at the hospital.”
