A Hunger Like No Other (Immortals After Dark #2)(72)

“Ye’ve no need for that. Ever. Can barely…keep from…”

She perceived him moving, then…felt his mouth on her sex. She cried out with shock and pleasure. He was lying on his back beneath her, her knees spread over his face, his arms wrapped over her back, hugging her down. She couldn’t move if she tried.

He groaned against her, arms tightening if possible. “Dreamed of tasting you again,” he growled. “Almost as much as f*cking.”

Her claws dug into the grass and the cut blades erupted in scent. He suckled her and she screamed. Lightning split the sky like a whip. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t rock her hips into him like she needed to. She didn’t feel the ground abrading her knees as she knew it must be. Going insane.

“Oh, God, yes! Lachlain, please.”

He drew his tongue from her, entering his finger. “Please what?”

She was panting, near mindless. “Please make me for once…please let me have—”

“Come,” he commanded, with a palm coming down on her ass and a thrust of his finger as he resumed sucking and licking. She screamed and her body clenched instantly, shuddering her through her first orgasm, making her accept the explosion of pleasure. His hands were on her, roughly palming her cheeks, shoving her against his mouth, licking relentlessly.

And all the while she watched the sky as she moved the only way she could, by arching her back, until she could take no more.

When she was spent and fell limp with a whimper, stunned by the pleasure she’d never known, he eased her to the ground and stood. Trembling, she gazed up at him, silhouetted against the lightning still firing though not as furiously. He was like a god. He awaited something.

Ritual. She was on her knees before him. Gazing up at him, she drew him into her mouth as best as she was able, adoring his flesh with her tongue as she should’ve done before. He cupped her face with shaking hands, groaning. His expression was one of ecstasy mingled with disbelief as he watched her. She reached up to scratch down his torso, nails digging into his flesh, and he shuddered. She could taste him already salty and slick at the tip.

“Canna do this…need to claim you. Here. It will be here….”

She resisted him taking his shaft from her mouth, licking her lips for it even as he moved behind her, kneeling between her legs. He bent down, tonguing her again while trying to fit two fingers inside her. When he was able, he released her, then his whole hand was on her head guiding her down onto her hands. She looked back, saw him holding his erection about to put it inside her. She began shaking in earnest, yearning.

Need. Attract. She pressed back, but he held her still, spreading her flesh and placing the tip against her. A hand roughly ran down her back, making her arch down with pleasure.

“No’ a dream,” he murmured in a stunned tone. “Emmaline…”

She was panting, repeating “please” again and again.

He put one arm solidly around her waist. “Waited so long to be inside you.” He ran his other arm under her, over her breast, and clenched her shoulder from underneath, holding her immobile. “I claim you for my own.” He plunged into her.

She screamed again, this time in pain.

“Ah, God,” he groaned. “So tight,” he bit out with another buck of his hips. She was so clenched around him he could scarcely move.

She gasped, her eyes watering from the searing pain. She’d known they wouldn’t fit.

To her relief, he stopped thrusting, though she wondered how he had when she could feel his body shaking all around her, his shaft so huge and throbbing within her.

He drew her up as he went to his knees, putting her back against his chest and taking her arms to guide them up around his neck, locking them there. “Hold on tae me.”

When she nodded, he skimmed his fingers from her shoulders over her breasts and down, then dipped both of his hands to cup and stroke her between her legs. When her wetness returned in a rush, he still refrained from thrusting. Instead he thumbed her nipples and palmed her breasts for long, long moments until she was panting again, feeling a desperate lust like she had when he’d teased her that night in the bathroom. No, worse than that, because now she knew exactly what she was missing.

Remembering her frustration that night and fearing he’d subject her to that again, she wriggled her hips against him.

He growled low at her ear, “Do you want more?”

“Y-yes.”

“Go tae your hands again…let me give it tae you.”

As soon as she did, he clutched her hips, slowly withdrew, then eased deeper within her. She cried out, this time in pleasure. When she arched her back and worked her knees wide again, he groaned her name in answer, but his voice had changed. Still as deep but guttural, grating. Almost…snarling.

Another thrust inside her, this time more forceful. Groans, growling. Hers as well?

Thoughts were growing dim as the pleasure increased. Each measured withdrawal made her whimper, each time his skin slapped against hers as he bucked into her made her cry out for more. Her lips curled when the air charged with electricity, and she gloried in the sky, in the scents, in Lachlain wedged deep inside her. He stretched down over her back, and she felt his mouth on her neck. Felt his bite, but not like hers, not piercing the skin, but she reveled in it as if she’d accomplished it.

“Going tae come so hard,” he snarled against her skin, “you’ll feel it like a thrust of my cock.”