Dragos Takes a Holiday (Elder Races #6.5)(15)

He wrapped them in a cloak of invisibility and picked her up. A muffled noise came out of her. It sounded stark and needy. She hooked her arm around his neck as he strode to the edge of the parking lot. A waist-high stone wall separated the asphalt from the sand. He leaped it and ran down the beach, faster and faster until the wind whipped through their hair.

Within moments they left behind the bright lights of the dockyard and the incessant chatter of humanity. The ocean murmured against the sand in a rhythm far older than any music. Lights dotted the dark shoreline, and a slice of moon curved in the dark blue, starred night, but the place he found was deep with shadows.

He walked into the deepest of the shadows, where the line of trees and bushes met the beach. Only then did he set her on her feet. Now her whole body trembled. He could hear her heart racing.

He did that. He caused her body to shake and cry out. He set her heart racing, made her laugh, created her happiness. He reached past the bone and sinew of her body and touched the invisible, mysterious core of her, the place that defined her.

That place. That invisible, mysterious place was his home.

He lived for it. He would die for it.

It did not define him. He was too old and too wicked. But if he were ever to believe in a place called Eden, paradise or heaven, that invisible place would be it. It had nothing to do with forgiveness. It was more necessary to him than redemption.

She could break him. Him. In their year together, the surprise had still not left him. He had lived through cataclysms. He had survived the undying enmity of Elves and the shifting of continents, but she held his old, jaded heart in her two slender hands.

“Here?” she whispered.

“Here,” he told her. “Now.”

He pushed her against the trunk of a tree and went to his knees in front of her. Sliding his hands up the taut, graceful line of her thighs, he made a startling discovery.

She wore no panties underneath that short—very short—thin dress.

Her audacity shocked a growl out of him. He cupped her round, silken-smooth ass and buried his face greedily in the soft, private hair at the juncture of her thighs.

She gasped, shaking all over, and leaned back against the tree while she hooked one of her fabulous legs over his shoulder, opening herself for his exploration. He licked and suckled at the velvety, succulent flesh of her sex. She was slick and inviting, and she tasted like arousal.

The sensation shot down his spine. His already hard cock stiffened further until he felt thick and swollen.

Gods, he loved to f*ck her, with his tongue, his fingers, and his penis—anything he could use to get inside her most private place, and to feel how she responded to him. He inserted his forefinger into her gently, feeling how her inner muscles gripped him.

Her body vibrated with tension as her pleasure escalated. She cupped the back of his head with trembling fingers as he found the stiff little nubbin of her clitoris and licked. He inserted a second finger. She arched her back as she accommodated him, and her moisture coated his hand.

“You need this,” he growled. “Say it.”

“Yes.” She stroked her fingers through his hair.

“You need me.”

He knew what he sounded like. He sounded arrogant and demanding, and slightly ridiculous, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Yes!” she cried out.

He used the back of his knuckle to press her clitoris to his mouth, rubbed his teeth gently, gently across the delicate, delicious flesh and felt the shock waves shudder through her body. She shoved a hand against her mouth to muffle a cry.

His own need was growing urgent, and his pants felt too tight. Too civilized. He unzipped and yanked them open to let his engorged penis spill out, never once letting up from working on her.

The incantation he wove on her was his greatest enchantment. Each stroke, lick and thrust was a line that made a verse, each verse necessary and building on each other to create the final spell. She showed him the way the spell should be cast with every gasp and flex of her muscles, every tiny betrayal revealing the intensity of her pleasure.

Her tension escalated until it broke apart. She bucked against his hold and forgot to muffle her cry when she climaxed. The tiny shock waves rippled through her muscles. He felt it through his fingers as he stroked her deep inside, at the site of her second pleasure center, while he never stopped licking.

She was so hot, so tight. He was dying to sheathe himself in her, but he held himself under rigid control while he sucked hard and drove in with his fingers at the same time—and she convulsed again, sobbing.

That’s it, he murmured in her head. There you are. Give it to me again.

She shook her head jerkily. “I can’t— Those blew my mind. I can’t— I can’t stand up any longer.”

Yes, you can, he told her. I’m going to take you right up against that tree trunk. Right after you come for me one more time.

“Good God, Dragos!” She clenched her fingers in his short hair.

He f*cked her with his fingers while he never let up on the pressure with his tongue. The heat coming off of her body was unbelievably erotic. She made a strangled, mewling noise at the back of her throat, and the sound went straight to his cock. In that moment, he was absolutely sure he was going to die if he didn’t get inside of her just as quickly as he could.

Swearing, she bent over and draped across his shoulder, and her inner muscles clenched on his fingers as she came one more time. He wrapped an arm around her neck while he cupped her until the orgasm eased.