by Caris Roane
He laughed. “Not a chance.”
He was deep inside now, his cock surging and pulling back, driving in and out, teasing all the sensitive nerves. He was where he belonged. She made delicate mewling sounds and panted in between. Her muscles clenched around him. He was so damn hard and she was a fist pulling at him.
He shuddered with the effort it took to keep from spilling inside her. He wanted to wait. He wanted to wring every drop of pleasure from this time with her. He wanted to watch her come at least half a dozen times before he spent himself.
He drifted his lips down her chest and kissed the swell of her breasts, his fangs thick in his mouth. He knew what he wanted to do but he didn’t want to lose contact.
She seemed to understand because as he angled over her chest, she tightened her legs around his buttocks and kept his hips seated against her. He thrust slowly as he licked her breast then set the sharp tips of his fangs over the swell of her skin.
He overlaid her mind. May I taste you?
So polite for a vampire.
He cupped her breast and felt it swell in his hand. She groaned and whimpered.
May I? he asked again, avoiding puncture. He ground his hips into her.
“Please,” she whispered aloud, her voice hoarse.
He lowered his mouth to her nipple and ran his tongue in a circle several times until her hips bucked beneath him. He slowed his thrusting, holding back, spinning the moment out as long as he could.
He positioned his fangs just above the pink areola. In a swift jab he sank the razor-sharp tips deep, exuding a chemical to keep the blood from flowing. With her blood held at bay, he slowly started releasing a potion designed to heighten sensation.
* * *
Alison cried out. Pain and pleasure merged in a driving duet of incredible sensation. She looked up into the twig ceiling and slid her fingers once more into his hair. She panted and gasped, unable to believe that this wonderful thing had happened. Her warrior-vampire was inside her, at last. And she wasn’t hurting him. Not at all. At least not yet. Never, she hoped. Oh, God, please never.
Her breast tingled where his fangs had penetrated her skin. His tongue lapped low, stroking the tight bud. Her internal muscles clenched rhythmically around his driving cock. Her hips shoved back into him while her legs locked him in place.
She gasped and clutched at the nape of his neck, encouraging him.
A strange sensation began spreading at the place of puncture. She felt a hot sting, then a steady rise of pleasure, which diffused like lightning through her breast as though he touched her from within and without in quick pulses. Her nipple drew up further into a taut hard bead. She moaned loudly. Her back arched.
Oh, God, Kerrick, what have you done to me?
This is only the beginning.
I may pass out.
He chuckled against her skin as he laved the aching nipple, his fangs still deep within her, his hips a slow steady rhythm.
Do you want me to suckle you?
Hard. Now. Please.
He removed his fangs and drew his hand firmly around her breast, forcing the nipple to rise up into his mouth. He took a generous portion and pulled with a deep sucking motion. At the same moment, he slid an arm under her waist and drove into her hard.
Alison knew the moment had come. She wanted to warn him but couldn’t. She was locked inside the orgasm as it carried her on a heavy wave. At the same time, she felt power gathering deep inside. He left her breast and rose up over her, pumping hard now as if he understood her need. She moaned, trying to form the words to warn him but failing. As the intense ecstasy caught her, the power released and the climax took her in a sharp beautiful agonizing grip of pleasure that went on and on. She heard Kerrick grunt then chuckle then groan loudly.
He leaned down to her. “Oh, my God,” he whispered against her ear as he continued stroking her, wringing the last bit of sensation. “That was incredible. My God.”
“You’re not hurt?” she asked, still breathing hard. She planted a hand on his chest. She had to know.
“I’m beyond aroused. I didn’t know it would feel like that when I was inside you. Alison, do it again.”
Relief flooded her. Tears poured from her eyes. She was so happy. And still he was hard as a rock and continued to pump into her. If he kept going, she’d come again.
Now, however, she became aware of a different sensation, a kind of pleasurable burning. Her breast, where he had driven his fangs, now felt on fire in the best way. You put something in my breast.
He smiled down at her. “A potion. One of the best gifts of ascended life.”
She rolled her head back and forth as another orgasm began to build. The potion wasn’t remaining at her breast, either, but had spread and now seeped low into her abdomen.
She moaned and rocked her hips into him.
That’s it, Alison. Did I tell you I love it when you’re in my head? So damn sexy.
She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. He thrust heavily into her once more.
The vampire had staying power.
Desire bolted through her all over again as the potion continued to descend. She didn’t know how much more she could take.
She whimpered as she slid her hands down to caress his buttocks. He was so thick-muscled, so physically powerful, a man, a vampire, a warrior. Her hands moved over him, riding the dips and swells of his beautifully contoured flesh. He was flat-out gorgeous in every possible way, not less so in the honed muscles of his warrior’s body.
She worked her hands up to his waist then over the ripples of his back. She fingered the ridges from which his wings would emerge.
His hips jerked and he moaned. “Better stop that now,” he whispered, his body twisting. “Wing-locks are very sensitive.”
Her fingers couldn’t stop. She loved the way his body moved when she touched him there.
“No, really,” he gasped, rising up to look at her. “Stop or I’ll come and I don’t want to. Not yet. I want to feel you come again. I want to watch you come.”
She slid her hands down to his waist.
More, she whispered in his head.
He rose up over her and growled. His fangs emerged, his green eyes dark, fierce, as he met her gaze. She reached up and stroked his fangs, avoiding the tips. He moaned then rolled his hips into her. She arched and whimpered. She touched his lips, his chin, and stroked his neck with her hand. He was beautiful everywhere. Her chest hurt looking at him.
“I feel your potion inside me still, very deep. Oh, God. It’s almost all the way down.” Once more, unexpected tears tracked down her face and into her hair.
He caught her lips with his, his fangs heavy on her mouth. His tongue pierced her.
He drove hard now, his hips flexing, his cock driving. When the potion finally penetrated her core, the sensation was like nothing she had ever experienced before, a fire burning in the well of her body. She panted in heavy gasps, weeping, writhing beneath him.
“Oh, God! Kerrick!” The next climax hit her like a hard punch. She screamed at the breadth of the sensation as the orgasm rolled through her, pleasure spiking, flowing, flooding her. At the same time, power gathered, then, in an enormous wave, released.
Once more he grunted hard, taking what she could give. “Oh, shit,” he whispered. “That was—” He groaned and growled over her now, more beast than man, more erotic, wild, hot as he pumped into her hard, faster and faster. “I’m going to come.”
Another wave caught her. She cried out and on instinct as the climax gathered, as power once more bunched within, she drove her fingers on either side of his back between the ridges of the wing-locks, teasing the sensitive ridges. Her orgasm peaked, the power released against him, into him, and she screamed with the pleasure that took her on a long, exquisite ride.
“Can’t wait any longer,” he grunted. His back writhed beneath her fingers as she continued to work his wing-locks. He lifted his head. His throat opened as he roared his climax. Sh
e came with him again, unable to believe the sensations pummeling her entire body, especially since his orgasm went on and on, his hips bucking into her, his torso punching the air, his lips parted, his eyes squeezed shut.
At last, he rode her the rest of the way down, down, down then dropped onto her, panting. “Oh. God.”
The beautiful weight of his body smashed her into the carpet. She sighed deeply as she encircled his neck with her arms, holding him tight, his lips now suckling her shoulder, her inner thighs dripping. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath he took.
So damn satisfied drifted through her mind. Never been like this before.
So glad I didn’t hurt you, she sent.
Those punches … like heaven. His body shuddered against her as though he relived the moment.
Alison wept. She hadn’t meant to but her happiness knew no bounds. She hadn’t hurt him. In fact, he’d taken everything she gave and he’d loved it.
Could life get any better?
She had only one thought: that she would be doing more of this with him, whether he liked it or not. She didn’t understand exactly why the breh-hedden bothered him so much. In her opinion, the level of his desire for her was brilliant.
He drew back from her, though not breaking contact, the canyon once more between his brows. His fangs had receded. He leaned down, kissed her very gently, then slid into her mind. You’re so beautiful, but we have work to do.
You’re spoiling my buzz.
He smiled then kissed her again. “I want you safe.”
She sighed. “Ten minutes? I’d really like a shower.”
“Seven,” he stated with a growl.
“Okay.”
* * *
Kerrick lay on the carpet, his hands clasped behind his head, his cock heavy, flaccid, satisfied as it rested on his groin and thigh. He listened to Alison singing in the shower. He didn’t recognize the tune but the sound of her voice made him smile.
He chuckled. He felt relaxed and content. Damn. He released a deep sigh. He still couldn’t believe he’d just had the best sex of his life and that was saying something after so many centuries.
When her power had gathered then released along with her orgasm, his ascended nature had received the power as a punch in a low arc across his abdomen, which sent pleasure streaking through his groin and riding the length of his shaft. How he had kept from coming before he did, he would never know, except he’d been damn determined to make this moment last.
He felt eased as he hadn’t been in centuries, the way Helena used to ease him and even his first mortal wife, Marta. He’d forgotten the joys of marriage, of this kind of union, built on deep respect and of course crazy attraction. And yes, he respected Alison, all that she was, all that she had proved herself to be—her courage, her kindness, that she had somehow kept herself sane when she must have felt so desperately isolated and different from everyone else she knew. Yeah, he respected the hell out of her.
Making love to her had eased him, had filled a void that had been so rarely filled given his twelve hundred years. He wanted to keep her by his side, but how could he, given the nature of his job as a warrior? How could he ever put her at that kind of risk?
The truth? He couldn’t.
Yet the thought of not having her with him, not getting to be inside her the rest of his life, sliced at something deep in his chest until he started to hurt.
Okay. He really couldn’t go there right now.
Instead he drew a deep breath and once more thought about what had just happened, the pleasure of making love to her. And later, with her fingers working his wing-locks, he had let go. Really let go. Damn. He’d never had an orgasm roll on and on until he wondered if it would ever end.
Damn.
The memory, so recent, jolted his body all over again. He hardened and that made him sit up.
Reminiscing was not going to help.
He jumped to his feet. He’d like a shower as well. As he reached for his clothes, his phone buzzed. Thorne. Again. He withdrew the card then left Alison’s room before answering. Once past the doorway he thumbed the phone. “Give.”
Thorne’s voice broke over his ears, “We’ve just gotten word from COPASS. Can you spell reamed?”
Kerrick listened in disbelief. He couldn’t possibly be hearing right. He made Thorne repeat it … twice.
In the end, he had to accept what Thorne said—Alison was slated to battle one of the Commander’s top warriors in the Tolleson Two arena tomorrow at seven PM. “This is all about fucking spectacle, isn’t it?”
“Yep. I’m headed to Endelle’s palace to see if we can make this right. However, I can’t say I’m hopeful. Do your best, brother.”
Kerrick thumbed his phone then returned to the bedroom to his jeans, which were still sweat-soaked. He folded his clothes to his laundry on Second, folded on a fresh set of jeans and T-shirt, then put his phone away. He thought about what was coming and knew he couldn’t tell Alison what was in store for her, not yet. He just couldn’t. Goddammit, this was wrong. On every possible level, this … was … wrong.
* * *
Alison knew she needed to leave the shower, but the pounding of the hot water felt so good on her tired muscles.
The sex. Oh, God, the sex had been fantastic. No, fantastic was too small a word. Unbelievable, like six kinds of roller-coaster rides all in one.
A rosy sensation swelled deep inside her chest, a soft warmth and gentle vibration. When thoughts of Kerrick drifted through her head, the rose bloomed then bloomed some more until her entire body glowed.
She recognized the sensation, the beginning of love, of falling in love, of bonding, that thing females often did with men who brought them to orgasm … again and again. She leaned her forehead against the tile. She smacked her forehead a couple of times.
She shouldn’t even be thinking about loving Kerrick, of desiring a future with him, of feeling such tenderness toward him, not with the whole situation built for impermanence.
Just sex, please.
Please.
She shook her head and worked a cramp out of her neck muscle.
The truth was, she could so love this man. He could handle all her weird abilities and powers. He understood them, he admired them, he enjoyed them.
But deep in the back of her mind, that which nagged at her, which had lived in her since she was very young, was the fear that some of her power would get away from her and she’d hurt him, maybe even kill him. He had said her hand-blast had crossed dimensions, so, yeah, she was more powerful than even she understood. So, what if? Oh, God … what if?
She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe.
After a couple of minutes of just breathing, perspective emerged. She had been forgetting one small detail. All her thoughts were focused on whether or not she would have a relationship with Kerrick in the future when the real question was whether or not she even had a future. Apparently, the Commander wanted her really dead and wouldn’t stop until he got the job done.
She shifted her thoughts to the more pressing issue at hand: learning how to battle like a warrior just in case more death vamps came after her.
As she had told Kerrick more than once, she wasn’t a warrior. The pleasure she had experienced in bonding with her own identified sword and battling Kerrick because she had his muscle memory in her body, well, all of that was one thing.
Truth? She had as much killing instinct as a dust bunny.
She left the shower, dried off, then wrapped herself in a towel. She moved into the bedroom but Kerrick had left. She took one look at the pile of sweaty clothes she’d trained in and shuddered. She turned to the rack by the bathroom door then plucked a fresh set off the plastic hangers—jeans and a pink T-shirt this time, minus the fireworks over her cleavage.
As she dressed, she realized her triceps burned. She had worked out with weights for the last six months and she was strong, but if Kerrick had been unable to heal her throughout the training th
us far, she would have been doubled over in pain.
Once dressed, and well over her seven-minute limit, she headed in the direction of the family room. Kerrick waited for her, a hard glint in his eye. Worse, he wouldn’t even look at her, wouldn’t meet her gaze.
A hello would be nice, she sent, the words cut with sarcasm. He turned away from her, his hands planted on his hips, his shoulders bunched and pressed low. She reached out with her empathy and there it was again, another mountain of rage, this time laced with despair.
“What is it?” she asked, every sense on sudden alert.
The way his head jerked toward her and his gaze latched onto hers, she knew she’d pushed the right button.
He released a sigh. “This damn training.” He looked away, shifting his gaze off to the left.
A lie?
“What are you not telling me?”
Another sigh, forced. “I spoke with Thorne. I don’t have all the details yet. He just wanted to stress with me how important it was for both of us to work hard at the training over the next several hours.”
Alison knew he wasn’t telling her everything. She also knew he would tell her if she pushed him. So the question was, did she really want to know?
His demeanor said enough and right now, no, she didn’t want to know, not yet.
She drew her sword into her hand, her fingers tingling with recognition, her heart now slamming in her chest. Did this make her a coward, the not wanting to know? Or maybe just sensible.
One step at a time, Alison of Mortal Earth.
I don’t need to know anything more, she sent. Just train me, Warrior.
At that he turned toward her fully. His expression lightened … a little. You are a warrior, Alison. Maybe not of swords and daggers, but you have a warrior’s heart and a warrior’s courage. He nodded several times. Aloud, he said, “I just want you to know this has been one of the finest nights of my life.”
Alison crumbled inside. He sure knew how to get to a girl. “Ditto,” she whispered. She brought her hands together on the leather-wrapped handle of her sword. She lowered her chin and shoulders. She set her gaze on his abdomen to see which direction he intended to move.
