Chapter 45 #2
“I lied.” His voice is so low I barely hear him. “When you asked if I wanted your soul.”
My heart stalls in my chest. Somehow I’ve forgotten in my yearning that the man I’ve fallen for isn’t a man at all. And I couldn’t be more vulnerable: utterly naked, flushed, and breathless. I don’t even have my daggers on me.
But Reid’s words echo in my head: You know I’d never hurt you, right?
“Is it very hard?” I ask shakily. “To fight it?”
He nods, eyes still downcast. “I want all of you. Everything you’ve got, I want.”
“Take me, then,” I tell him. “Make me yours.”
I stroke his horn once more with the pads of my fingers, and Reid brings his mouth hungrily to the inside of my thigh. His tongue sweeps closer and closer to my core as I lay back down, unable to hold myself up a second longer.
My eyes shut tightly when his lips brush over my core. “Yes.” A sharp intake of breath. “Oh. Right there—”
Please don’t ever stop. Never take your mouth off me.
He laps at me until I’m on the edge. I scrape my fingers over the cool marble, mewling and pleading until he sinks a finger inside me.
My body fills with heat, so much I can’t keep still—twitching and squirming.
Convulsing with need. He adds another and clutches me tightly around the waist while he fucks me with his fingers.
“Oh god,” I babble. “Oh god. Oh god.”
“I need to be inside you,” he murmurs, almost more to himself than to me. He lifts his head, and I find eyes that are wild, shoulders rippling, horns as sharp as spears. “Can I?”
I nod so eagerly my neck strains. He pushes his fingers in and out of me once more and a whimper catches in my throat. The sound of my own arousal is loud in the empty museum wing, but I’m too needy to care.
“Shit,” he says with dark realization, palming his cock under his pants. He is furiously hard. Ferociously so. “I don’t have anything.”
“That’s okay,” I whisper. “It’s not like you can get me pregnant.”
“I haven’t been with anyone—”
“I know,” I tell him. “Come here.” My hands itch to touch him. To feel his heat and smell his skin. I fear a horrible addiction has been born tonight. Some far-off corner of my mind wonders how I’ll spend a single minute away from him after this.
“You can’t imagine how long I’ve been thinking about this,” he says, taking off his pants and boxers.
In the half-light I make out a weighty length between his legs, and my limbs go boneless.
Nothing demonic about him there but his size.
I sit up to wrap my hand around the velvety skin.
Reid grunts, jaw grinding shut. His hips jerk forward and a little drop of moisture beads at the head of his cock.
“Since that night we set fire to Maria’s?” I ask, dazed.
His voice is strangled. “Long before that.”
“Since you saved me from becoming werewolf dinner?” I’m babbling because I’m nervous and I know he can tell. This means something, what we’re about to do.
Reid shakes his head, pushing us both back down to the floor until he’s caged over me once more. He angles my knee up and apart to seat himself between my legs. “I could have killed him in a dozen ways for how he looked at you.”
“Oh.” I swallow hard. My hands are loose around his neck. “When, then?”
“Viv,” he says, pulling back so I can see the full picture of his night-blue eyes and mussed hair and deadly demon horns. “We don’t have to do this.”
“I want to,” I breathe. “Badly.” Need is pulsing between my legs.
“Well, it may be faster than I’m proud of.”
He eases himself inside me. I’m caught somewhere between the acute pleasure of hearing Reid’s groans and the pain of being stretched larger than I’m quite ready for. When I wince a bit, Reid goes still. “Viv—”
“Don’t stop,” I stutter.
“But—”
I’m aching when I plead, “I’m serious.”
Reid frowns at me before sitting up to grip my shaking thighs. Abs clenching, horns thrusting from his head, he jerks in another inch with a low, rumbling groan. I wonder how much of that pained noise is him fighting his baser demon instincts. Fighting the urge to swallow my soul.
His fingers dig into the flesh of my leg until they go white.
The image is so profoundly erotic, made even less bearable by his thumb coaxing over my clit to soften me.
I grow wetter as he soothes, relieving the strain, and he slides in to the hilt, releasing nearly inaudible praise as he does. “Good. Yeah. Don’t move…Fuck, Viv—”
When I moan and buck up toward him, nearing that edge, Reid comes down over me to lick the column of my neck and the dip of my collarbone.
Obscene sounds echo through the cavernous room.
Wet and messy, liquid hot. Grunts and gasps of pleasure.
We’re both sweating, trembling, writhing along each other, and that ache in my core is building and building every time he hits that spot inside me in time with his fingers at the apex of my thighs…
The pressure is unimaginable. Low in my stomach, fluttering down my thighs and into my belly. Like a soda bottle in an earthquake.
“Shit,” he groans desperately against my neck. “Wait—stop for just—”
I clench around him, feeling him in every inch of me, heart hammering, sweat dripping, teeth clenched, and then a sweep of pleasure so tremendous it’s nearly frightening cuts through my entire body.
It’s not dainty or subtle like the orgasms I’ve faked in the past or even the rare few I’ve had.
This is a wrecking, dirty, screeching thing.
Reid’s hand comes down over my mouth as he fucks me, grinding and desperate, hips rolling, groaning my name over and over again as he endures a devastating climax of his own.
We both float back down to earth. His horns have receded, and we’re sticky, sweaty messes, panting naked on the floor of the Windsor, lit by that same low exhibit light. The last thought I have before I fall asleep in Reid’s arms is that if everything were different, I might finally be happy.