Chapter 12
Amused by his very male one-track mind, Vash scoped out the furnishings in the small room. “The choices are limited here, sex fiend: desktop or the floor. I’m lacking a penis, so I can’t nail you against the wall. And every chair in this room has arms, so straddling you is impossible.”
“Where’s your imagination?” Letting her go, Elijah tugged his shirt over his head.
She was so focused on looking for any lingering injuries that she missed him toeing off his boots.
Her hands were sliding over his torso, feeling for wounds she might have missed with her night vision, when his jeans hit the floor.
The full force of his nudity hit her, and she hissed, riveted by his blatant masculinity.
“Say it again,” he demanded.
She unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “Huh?”
“What you wanted me to forget that you said.”
Her gaze lifted to his, found his eyes feverishly bright. She wanted those eyes on her, sliding over her with their heat and hunger. No one had ever looked at her quite that way, with a desire that was untamed and wild.
She shrugged out of her vest and tossed it aside. Balancing on one foot, she unzipped one boot, then the other. As she pushed her pants down her legs, he sank into a chair, settling back and watching avidly.
“Say it, Vashti.” The rumble lacing his words was almost a purr. The sound drifted over and around her like warm tendrils of smoke.
Straightening, she kicked her pants aside.
“I want you”—she deliberately paused— “to let me do all the work. You were torn up good today.”
“I’ll promise not to overly exert myself, and we’ll call it square.”
“Not good enough.”
“Don’t trust me?”
“I could tie you up again, maybe. But you’d fuck us both to death for it.”
“You can’t top me, Vashti,” he said harshly. “That’s not what you need. Not what you want. Don’t ever try again.”
She approached him. Gripping the back of his chair, she lowered her lips to his brow and breathed him in, letting the scent of his skin slide through her. Soothing her.
He knew her, saw through her. She didn’t know how, but he did…
Whatever. It didn’t matter. This was the last time they’d have this; their association was coming to a close.
Soon she’d be the Vashti she knew, the one everyone needed her to be.
Once she had Charron’s killers beneath her boot heels, she’d honor her end of their bargain.
They’d both have what they really wanted, which—contrary to the way things were going at that moment—wasn’t each other. “Tonight will be slow and easy.”
The fingertips of his right hand skimmed lightly along the outside of her thigh. The caress was barely there, yet it rippled through her in waves of warmth and need. That he didn’t do more, didn’t take over, gave her the chance to wipe the slate clean between them.
I need that, too, she thought. Needed to leave him with a different memory than the one from Shred.
“Show me how to work around this damned chair,” she muttered, although just the thought of wriggling and squirming over his hard body made her wet.
“Stand back first. Lemme look at you.”
She straightened slowly. Stepping back, she thrust her hands through her hair and piled it on top of her head. Arching her back, Vash posed like a ’50s pinup.
He breathed roughly, his hands fisting around the ends of the armrests. “My god, Vashti…”
It was the note of awed pleasure in his voice that pierced her, slicing through her defenses to strike the tender places within. A shiver moved through her.
“You’re so damn gorgeous,” he growled. “Lush and curvy. Fucking perfect. And you’re so strong. Strong and tough.”
There was possession in the way he spoke.
And she relished that, which confused her.
She was a woman who took care of herself.
Always had been. Char had known that about her and hadn’t been territorial.
She had a job to do, one that outranked his, and he’d stayed to the side and let her do it, following her commands when she gave them to him.
That’s what she needed from her mate, what she wanted… Support. Acceptance.
Yet Elijah’s dominant streak turned her on like crazy. Turning slowly, she hid how shaken she was by presenting him with her back.
“Come closer. Back up to me,” he ordered, reminding her that he’d never stand to the side. He would always require her surrender, even as he praised and admired her strength and toughness.
His splayed hand caressed the length of her back, gentling her. “Bend over.”
Knowing how exposed she’d be in the position he wanted her in, she leaned forward slowly, widening the spread of her legs to better support her canted weight.
His hands cupped the backs of her thighs in the crease just below the curve of her buttocks.
His thumbs rubbed gently over the lips of her sex, parting her, opening her to his gaze.
“Mmm…you’re wet and soft already.”
She swallowed hard, then bit her lip to stifle a moan. His breath fanned hot and humid over her most sensitive flesh. Her hands went to her knees, adding support to keep her from toppling onto her face.
“I’ll make you wetter,” he promised darkly, the moment before he licked leisurely across her swollen cleft.
She gasped, the sound overly loud in the quiet room. It was exciting to be willing and ready for him. Bereft of control.
His tongue swiped over her again. The texture was rougher than before, like wet velvet, and the reach longer. She moaned in delight, wondering if he’d made that slight shift in form for her pleasure or his. Either was equally arousing.
The last time they’d been together, he’d arranged her the way he wanted her and taken her.
Taken what he needed, how he needed it, and expected her to find her pleasure in giving it to him.
Which she had. She’d never come so hard or often, never experienced ecstasy so fierce and wild. No boundaries. No limits.
His groan vibrated against her. “Your taste drives me insane. I could eat you for hours. Days. Lick up every sweet, creamy drop of you.”
The next glide of his tongue teased her slick opening, rimming it in leisurely circles that had her straining toward him. He kept her in place with his easy grip, nudging her clitoris with the tip of his tongue and humming a soft chastisement.
“Elijah,” she complained.
“Elijah…what?”
Her teeth grit. “Elijah, please.”
“Please…what?”
She couldn’t stop the frustrated noise that escaped her. “Please don’t be an ass.”
“But I can’t rush,” he said smoothly, “or I might overly exert myself and break my promise.”
“Using your tongue?”
When she attempted to straighten, he kept her in place with a hand at the small of her back. “Is it so difficult, letting me take the lead?”
“Yes.” No. That was what chafed the most. Sure, he was an Alpha, but he wasn’t her Alpha. And for her people, she was damn near the Alpha. What would they think if they could see her now?
“Even though doing so brings you pleasure?” he prodded.
Vash looked at him over her shoulder. He was looking right back at her, not at the slick, hot flesh quivering for more of his attention. Prurient interest would have soothed her, oddly. His focus on her reactions and her emotions was far more intimate.
“I’m not one of the countless bitches sniffing around after you,” she snapped. “Subservience isn’t in my nature.”
“Good. Women without backbones make me twitchy.” He kissed her, right on the ass.
“You’ve got a great rack, but even your spectacular tits wouldn’t be enough to keep me interested past the first screw.
That must mean I’m in this for your charming tendency to bark orders and run everything around you…
except for me, of course. Now, finish your damn sentence: Elijah, please do what?
You want me to do whatever I want with you?
Say so. You want to give me some direction, go for it. I’m open to suggestions.”
Her gaze moved to the floor. Damn it, she wanted to direct him, and she wanted him to do whatever he wanted. She didn’t know which one she wanted more.
So she split it down the middle.
“Elijah.” She exhaled in a rush. “Please lick me until I come. Then do whatever the hell you want with me.”
“Thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.”
If the hand at the small of her back hadn’t reached around to clasp the front of her thigh, Vash would have fallen over with his first deep lick.
He used his mouth with the skill of someone who used it as much as his hands.
The stroking of his crushed-velvet tongue was rhythmic and precise; the tempo of his thrusts into her needy sex had her rocking back on her heels, trying to capture the perfect pressure that would push her into orgasm.
She could see him between her legs, see how thick he was. How rigid and long. The heavily veined length so brutally beautiful. Just like the man himself. She wanted it…wanted him…
Christ. She wanted so fiercely, it hurt. Her breath soughed from her lungs; her nipples were hard and tight. Her stomach concaved with her helpless writhing, desperate whimpers escaping her as he massaged her clitoris with the roughened pad of his tongue.
“Please,” she begged, when she couldn’t take another minute.
“Yes.” He gave a fierce, quick suck, and she climaxed with a relieved cry, shuddering violently as the pleasure broke over her in tingling spasms.
As her legs shook and threatened to collapse, Elijah drew her into his lap and urged her to lean against his chest. Her head lolled on his shoulder, his scent filling her nostrils and intoxicating her already floating senses.
The feel of him against her back, so solid and warm and strong, made her never want to move.
His arms came around her, one hand cupping her breast while the other caught her knee and widened the spread of her legs.
“Guide me,” he whispered against her cheek. “Put me inside you.”