The Jackal (Black Dagger Brotherhood: Prison Camp #1)(67)

But that was not it.

With his hands on her hips and Nyx riding him, with the pleasure overtaking him, so unexpected and so raw . . . what called the pain from him was not the now. It was the inevitable that he couldn’t avoid:

When the Command came to take him once again.

The leverage they had over him, and the control it gave them, was such that he could not say no, and he would be called into service soon— and this beautiful moment, this cleansing, affirming passion, would be replaced by the very thing that was worse than the false accusation that had landed him in the prison, and the loss of ten decades of his life, and the darkness that he had lived in and would continue to do so.

The stain would return.

Closing his eyes, he could not bear it.

But Jack had no choice.



Nyx could have stayed at Jack’s vein until he was dried out—and that was the problem. She had to force herself to stop drinking from him even though it was the very last thing she wanted to do. The taste of him, the dark wine down the back of her throat and in her body, the swell of power and strength from what he was providing her, were more intoxicating than any drug.

And that was before the sex, the incandescent sex, was added as a chaser.

She would gorge on him if she could.

She was gorging on him.

Then again, Jack was answering the call of her thirst unlike anything she could ever have dreamed of, and he was doing the same with her sex. He was filling her up, his massive erection kicking out releases in an unrelenting stream, and dimly, she wondered what it would be like to have him service her in her needing.

The thought should have shocked her. It didn’t.

In a rush of hot, naked, wild images, she imagined him being the one to ease the pain of her fertile time, pleasuring her and keeping the burn at bay, their bodies melding together and staying there for hours and hours.

God, she wished they were both fully naked now.

And yes, she wanted to keep this going for six hours. Eight hours. Ten. She was pounding down hard on his hips, his sex going in and out of hers, tip to base, over and over again, and he was coming and she was coming and they were coming together while she was drinking from him. It was all too much and she only wanted more. She wanted to be covered in him, slick from him, loose and dizzy and on another planet from the exhaustion of making love all night and day long. She wanted him to take her in all positions, in all ways—

“Stop!”

As she cried out, she crashed back to reality. In spite of the fantasy and the sex and the rush, she ripped her fangs from his throat and focused on the cave wall, panting, blood-lusted, still hungry.

But she was terrified about taking too much from his vein.

“Jack—” she blurted in a panic.

“No, you haven’t killed me.” He smiled, even though there were puncture marks in his throat that were bleeding, twin trails tantalizing her, making her lick her lips. “Not even close.”

As she stared down at him, she wanted to remember him like this forever: A slight smile on his beautiful lips, his hair flowing out all over his hard shoulders, a strange air of contentment surrounding him like a tangible aura in spite of how intense the sex was. He was beautiful as he penetrated her, as he so generously gave himself over to her.

“I need to seal you up,” she said, mostly to herself—as a reminder that when she put her mouth back on him, it was not going to be to drink.

“I wish I could tell you not to worry about it,” he whispered. “I wish we could just keep going.”

And then he tilted his head to the side, baring the puncture marks to her. And yet she hesitated because she was that unsure of her self-control. He was so good, though. He was just so damned good.

When she went to lean down again, her hips moved against his— and she was reminded that even though they had to stop the feeding, the sex could, and would, continue on. And going by the way his hands bit into her upper thighs, he didn’t want to end that part of things, either.

“I wish you didn’t have to stop,” he repeated with a groan as he arched under her.

Nyx licked the column of his throat, sealing him up, making sure he was safe. And as soon as she did the duty, as if he had been waiting for it, he rolled her over and settled in between her legs, his tremendous size forcing her knees wide, his heavy weight pinning her down.

Looking up into his face, she threaded her hands into his hair. Breathing in deep, she knew that what was happening was special. Life-defining special. This was no one-night stand.

It never had been.

As he dropped his mouth to hers, she kissed him with everything she had, trying to communicate without speech that which she would have struggled to put into words anyway. And as if he understood what she needed from him, the rhythm he set was intense. She took every bit of what he gave her, especially as he hitched a forearm behind one of her knees and wrenched her leg high. The shift in position let him go even deeper and she scored his back with her nails.

Jack pounded into her, her head jerking as her body absorbed the dominating force of him. She didn’t care about the hard rock she was on, or even whether someone would come and catch them in the middle of it. She wasn’t even thinking of the inevitable separation.

All she had was the now, and she intended to live it fully.

Memories of this were going to have to last a lifetime.

The orgasm that went through her was so strong, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands clawed into him again. And as her core gripped his erection, milking him, holding on to him, he followed after her so that they both soared.