The Vampire's Bride (Atlantis #4)(82)

Heat was building inside her, a fire her blood could not seem to put out, only seemed to incite as it rushed through her veins. The fire raged like a warrior, insistent, sure, strong. She could not fight it, didn't want to fight it. Only wanted to be consumed by the flames.

"More," she begged.

Still unhurried, he moved to her other breast, gave it the same hot, moist attention. Her hips writhed, riding wave after wave of sensation. Layel kissed just above her heart, as if trying to absorb the beat. One of his hands glided down her stomach, swirled around her navel, then dabbled at the small tuft of hair between her legs.

"Yes, yes. Touch there."

"Like?"

"Like. More." She clutched his back, nails scoring deep. "Will you...Can you...Please. Hurry."

Two of his fingers slid between her hot, aching lips and straight into her core. A groan of ecstasy burst from her. In and out. Another finger joined the play. She was stretched in the most delicious way.

"So very wet," he praised.

She undulated against those expert fingers, her vision going black.

"That's right. Ride them, take what you need." In and out he continued to pump.

She thought his voice sounded strained, wanted to tell him to replace his fingers with his shaft, but the words caught in her throat as wild passion slammed through her, a battering ram intent on destroying her every defense. She spasmed, jerked, arched, silently screamed.

"I want to taste your release."

He kissed a path down her body, tracing her tattoos with his tongue as he'd promised. And then he was between her legs, lapping at the wetness there. Hot, so hot. He tongued her, sinking deep, just as his fingers had, riding the waves of her orgasm and pushing her right into another one.

Her legs locked around his neck, her hands fisted in his hair. Too much...too much...but she found that she wasn't shoving him away. She was pulling him closer, seeking more of him. Needing all that he had to offer.

"Never this sweet," he said.

He was infinitely careful not to lick her with his fangs, but she thought she might have liked that. Would have liked his teeth there, so intimately taking what he needed from her.

As her tremors subsided, he kissed his way up her stomach, leaving a trail of aroused, sweet fire. I'm ready for more, she realized shockingly. Far from sated after those two climaxes, her body only seemed to be primed.

He wasn't so careful now, perhaps was close to losing control, and one of his fangs nicked her. She hissed in surprised delight.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. More."

He was at her neck in the next instant, not drinking but kissing, licking, tonguing, and his arousal was probing for entrance in a rough forward-backward dance.

"Tight," he gritted out.

"I can take it."

"Don't want to hurt."

"Hurts without you. Need you." To prove it, she arched up, up, drawing him deeper.

Sweat beaded on his face and dripped onto her, lava on her skin. "Almost...just...need a moment."

"Now."

"No, I - "

"Yes!"

With a roar, he slammed all the way to the hilt, as if he couldn't hold himself back a second longer. Stretched, burned. It had been a long time for her, too, and then only for that one night. Yet...Oh, gods, oh, gods. Nothing had ever felt so wondrous, so perfect. He was inside her. Layel was a part of her, touching deeply, so deeply, filling her up with all that he was.

"Sorry," he chanted. "Sorry. I'll be still. Give you time. Can't leave. Long time, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. "Layel, kiss me. Please." She needed it, would die without it.

He nibbled on her ear, his warm breath fanning the lobe and ruffling her hair. But he denied her demand. "You feel so good. I think I could happily die here, in your arms."

She grabbed his face, palms flat on his cheeks. Their gazes met in a heated tangle. There were lines of strain around his eyes and mouth, passion blazing from his expression. Passion and pain and need, tenderness and self-loathing.

"Kiss me. On the mouth."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Told you. Can't."

"Kiss me. Take me the rest of the way. Please. I'm giving you everything. Do the same for me. I'm not asking for something you haven't already given, mistake or not."

He shook his head again, pumped inside her once, twice, slow and measured. His lips drew tight over his teeth. "You're heaven, sweet. Feel just like heaven."

She arched back, almost lost, drowning. Her head thrashed from side to side as he continued to pump. Important. Concentrate. She pulled herself from the eroticism of the moment. There was something she wanted, something she needed. Something she - A kiss! Yes. Her eyes narrowed on him, taking in the blood dripping from his lip where he'd bitten himself. He would not hold a part of himself back. She wouldn't let him. He could hate her later, could resent her forever, but she didn't care.

She was a warrior and she would fight for all he had to give.

"Kiss me," she commanded once more. She lifted her head and bit into his jaw. "Kiss me now, like you did before, with tongues rolling together, teeth scraping."

He stilled, his muscles taut. He was growling low in his throat, an animal. Needy. "I can't!"