Lifting her calf, he draped it over his shoulder, sliding his mouth along it until he was kneeling in front of her, his hair whispering over her leg. She clenched the blanket on either side of her, insane with a pulsing, desperate need, fighting not to lift her hips until he was ready for her.
Liam’s gaze captured hers, his face hard, his eyes on fire. “You’re so smooth, soft…My tongue belongs between your legs. Don’t ever forget that. Watch, Freya. Watch me so you won’t ever forget who belongs right here.”
She couldn’t tear her eyes away from this perfect man, chiseled, hard, poised at her core, demanding she watch him pleasure her.
Her breathing hitched, almost stopping altogether when Liam finally used his thumb and forefinger to spread her then laid his open mouth over her core, flattening his tongue against her clit.
She saw stars behind her eyelids as Liam rested there only a moment before he began to make slow, methodical swipes, dragging his tongue through her swollen folds, swirling it over the sensitive bud of her clit, moaning his satisfaction.
Her heels dug into the mattress, her hands went to his head. She thrust her fingers into his hair, clutching him to her as heat, so white-hot, so thick, began to course through her veins. Every nerve in her body was alive with a driving, throbbing beat toward climax—a destination only he could offer her.
Liam drove a finger into her as he licked, thrusting unmercifully into her slickness. The sound of his mouth on her, the sight of his tongue slipping in and out of her body, was more than she could bear.
Her muscles tensed, fighting the culmination of this superb pleasure, but Liam was too skilled, sucking her clit into his mouth until she exploded. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, a scream ripped from her throat, hoarse and raspy as she came, bucking against him, pulling him closer, savoring the heat of his tongue.
The sharp release, the incessant pull, dragged her over the edge and dropped her hard, but Liam was there to catch her, sliding up along her body, hauling her close as she gasped for air.
He braced himself over her with his elbows, pressing his forehead to hers as her arms went up around his back and she clung to him, savored every plane of his body sinking against her.
Then his mouth was on hers. For the first time since they’d entered her bedroom, he was kissing her, slipping his tongue between her lips, reigniting the flames that began to lick at her insides.
Freya moaned against his mouth, helpless to do anything but succumb to this newfound pleasure, kissing Liam, tasting herself on his tongue, driving her wild all over again.
He pressed his frame to hers, gluing every inch of their flesh together, searing them, branding her from head to toe, grinding against her until her fingers dug into his back. His scent—and the scent of her on him—left her breathless, left her pulse racing.
When he pulled away again, it was to skim her neck with his teeth, find her breast, lick her nipples to tight peaks once more as his cock brushed between her thighs.
Suddenly, that’s all there was. Liam’s hard, thick shaft burning her, his skin on hers, his delicious weight pushing her into the mattress.
This time, she didn’t wait to show her impatience. She reached between them, gripping his cock, enveloping it in her hand, stroking it until his hips began to move in time with her hand.
“Freya, goddamn it, I’m trying to keep from devouring you. Stop,” he warned from between teeth clenched tight.
She slid his cock between her folds, using it to create friction against her clit, gasping her delight as it teased the aching bud. Wrapping her leg around his hip, she lifted herself higher.
But Liam chuckled before he put his hands at her waist and rolled her over to her belly, hiking her up until his abdomen was at her ass and his shaft between her legs. He leaned down, nipping her spine, running his tongue over the line of her vertebrae.
Freya’s belly coiled tightly, her hands fisted, her knuckles white with anticipation when he placed himself at her entrance. Slick with lust, agonizingly needy, unable to stop herself, she pressed back against him.
And that’s when he drove into her—with such force, she bucked forward and cried out her pleasure. His hands went to her ass, kneading it before gripping her hips and driving upward once more.
He let out a moan, long and low, stilling for a moment, his strong body quaking against hers. “This is so much more than I thought it would be,” he rasped, his voice deep and thick, before he plunged into her again.
Liam’s cock stretched her, filled her, burned inside her, fit her so perfectly she had to clench her eyes shut from the tears stinging at the corners.
His thrusts demanded she accept him, demanded she drive back against him, demanded she allow him to possess her.
He reached around her waist with one hand, found the swollen nub of her clit, caressing it until that searing heat ripped through her again.
As he buried himself in her over and over, the wet sound of their bodies meeting, the hard muscle of his lower abdomen against her ass, Freya couldn’t stand any more.
Her teeth clenched tight, her hands gripped the edge of the mattress as Liam sank into her one last time. Her orgasm was so pure, so guttural, she let out a silent scream and drove back against him as hard and as fast as he thrust into her.
Because there was nothing else but this. Nothing but the wave of sizzling fire in her core, nothing but his hands all over her, nothing but this gnawing ache, this intense, pounding climb to the top of a cliff and the freefall drop over the edge.
Liam gripped a handful of her hair, pulling her upward, making her back arch until his mouth was pressed against her neck and he went rigid.
She heard the elongation of his fangs, the hiss of his completion, the long howl he let go of, the sweet sting of his teeth rasping against her flesh and then her harsh breathing.
Then Liam was pulling out of her, folding her in his bulky arms, cradling her, soothing her until she allowed herself to melt against him, her cheek pressed to his smooth chest.
Freya closed her eyes, falling, sliding into blissful oblivion cocooned by the man who, after tonight, she wasn’t sure she could ever let go.
* * * *
Freya awoke with a hard jolt, as though someone had wrenched her from some deep, black void of nothingness. Her stomach growled an angry rumble, her eyes popping open then slamming shut when bright daylight hit them, making them burn.
Jesus, that had been some whiskey. The next time she saw Lachlan, she was going to have to ask him what the hell the brand was so she could avoid it—forever.
Her head throbbed an almost unbearable rhythm, her nerve-endings licked by invisible flames.
Blindly, she reached for the edge of the bed and forced herself to sit upright.
That was when she realized she was naked.
Which was swiftly followed by the memory of her encounter with Liam.
Even in the throes of this ugly hangover, she remembered Liam and last night. His body hard and muscled against her own, his mouth bringing her to orgasm after orgasm, his lips on hers. The taste of her on his tongue.
She shivered with the recollection, but her underused muscles quivered. She’d never felt so weak in her life.
“What the hell?” she asked, her eyes still closed as she swayed and almost gave up and lay back down, but a hand at her spine stopped her. Wide and cool, it supported her.
“You need to feed.”
Gripping the blanket on either side of her, she shook her head. “No. This doesn’t feel like I need a tenderloin.” She felt as if she would die if she didn’t get something…something she couldn’t put her finger on.
“That’s because you don’t want a tenderloin, Freya.”
She let go of one side of the blanket and brought her fist to her eye, rubbing at the incessant throb. “I’m surprised you’re still here,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.
Flashes of the night before came and went in vivid color behind her eyelids.
>
Liam, appearing almost angry that he wanted her.
Liam, struggling with some invisible force as he made mind-blowing love to her.
Liam’s fangs elongating…
She stiffened.
No.
Holy shit. No.
“I suspect you’re putting two and two together in that razor-sharp brain of yours right now?” The mattress lifted and then Liam’s footsteps crashed in her ears like a slow, merciless jackhammer.
She heard him pull the blinds down before he said, “Open your eyes, Freya.”
“I can’t. It hurts like hell. Why does it hurt to open my eyes, Liam? Even on one of my worst benders in college it never hurt like this hurts.”
And then she felt him, kneeling in front of her, placing his hands on hers. “I need you to look at me, Freya.”
She tried to swallow to prepare for the impact, but found she couldn’t. Panic swept over her, making her want to gulp for air—but she couldn’t do that either. “What’s happening? Tell me now, McConnell, or I’ll chew your head right off those big hunky shoulders!”
“You think my shoulders are hunky?”
“Liam!”
“Sorry,” he said, and she heard genuine remorse. Heard it like she’d feel it.
Okay, situation normal all fucked up. “Tell me what’s happening right now. I don’t care what it is. I don’t care how bad you think I might think it is, just say it!” Her eyes finally popped open in frustration and she winced in response to the dagger stabbing her in the middle of her forehead.
This wasn’t like any hangover she’d ever had. Her eyesight was amazing as a werewolf, so were her senses, but they weren’t this keen.
So keen she saw every pore in Liam’s gorgeous face. Which was almost a relief—it meant he wasn’t as perfect as she’d made him out to be.
Vampires had pores, too. Huh.
His eyes flitted over her face, and they were filled with concern. “Better?”
“Nothing is better. Tell me what the hell is going on. Please.”
“We have a situation.”
She had to lean back because watching his lips with her super-duper eyesight was mind-bending. “Situation?”
“That rumble in your stomach, your eyes, how weak you feel. It’s because of a situation.”
She managed to pry her fingers from the blanket and latch onto the front of his T-shirt, giving him a weak shake, dread pooling in her stomach. “Please tell me it’s not the kind of situation that means I’m never going to Aruba again.”
He gripped her wrists and winced, his face, usually so hard, soft with understanding. “You can still go to Aruba, Freya. The sun will only be uncomfortable for the first two hundred years or so. But you get used to it.”
Her fingers began to tremble, her eyes burning with tears she was never going to be able to shed again. “I’m a…”
No. She couldn’t say the word. It was impossible. How had this happened?
Liam nodded. “A vampire.”
There was that remorse again. She distinctly heard it.
“But there’s more,” he added—sheepishly, too, if she was using this newer, more defined sense of hearing correctly.
Freya held up a hand. “I want to say shitty things that make sense right now, but I’m afraid they’ll just be a bunch of guttural sounds instead of the cutting barbs I want to hurl right—in—your—face! So just spit it all out!”
Liam leaned back on his haunches. “You sure?”
She almost screamed a response, but the idea hurt her ears too much to consider. “Say it!”
Liam’s next words were hushed, solemn. “You’re also my mate. My forever mate.”
How to Love Your Dragon Page 17
