Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Seize the things you want and don’t let go.
LUCA
My basilisk is smug, and I can’t even blame it. Now that I’ve jumped the fence surrounding the friend zone, I can’t imagine going back. It’s the scared side of the fence. The lonely side of the fence. Fuck that side of the fence.
Friend-zoned Luca never made out with dangerous vampires for fun. And he certainly didn’t get to reach out and shove his own cum back into the most perfect pussy in the universe to watch it drip out again.
Celine glances over her shoulder and shakes her head when she sees where I’m looking. When she swats me with her right wing, I roll with the movement until I’m leaning back against her padded headboard.
This will be a test for me. By the time the night ends we’ll all know if I can watch the woman I’ve wanted for years touch someone else. If it goes badly—No, I can’t murder Alistair. That would piss Celine off, and I would regret it. Probably.
Don’t kill him, I remind my basilisk as we watch Celine peel Alistair’s underwear off.
He has a nice cock—big, slightly curved, with no unexpected surprises.
I wonder what it tastes like. On this side of the fence, I get to find out.
But for now, I’m going to watch Celine ruin him, knowing it’s my cum running down her thighs.
When she grabs him around the hips and hurls him toward me, I have to admit I’m surprised. Her aim is good, though, and Alistair lands with his back against the headboard beside me.
Playful light dances in Celine’s eyes. She crawls between Alistair’s legs, dropping to lick the underside of his dick. Bent over, she supports herself with one hand, gathers her wild hair up with the other, then makes eye contact with me.
“Do you mind helping me out?” She flips the end of her hair in my direction, and I take the hint, holding the silky red strands up for her so she can focus on Alistair. “Luca controls the pace this time,” she says, shooting him a devious smile.
Alistair groans, but I waste no time easing her head down. Never one to hesitate once she decides, Celine swallows him like it’s her job. Gripping the sheets, Alistair’s breathing breaks down and turns to gasping pants, and I can tell he’s doing everything he can not to fuck her mouth.
Experimentally, I gently push her head down, watching as she takes his entire length—it has to be in her throat at this point—then swallows. Gods, that’s hot. Tugging on her hair, I give her time to suck in some air. This is going to be the best blow job ever.
From my vantage point, I use Alistair’s reactions against him, never letting him reach the point of no return. He’s got a hell of a poker face, but a muscle in his neck gives him away every time he gets close to coming.
Because I’m watching him closely, I see firsthand how he looks while he’s getting sucked. It’s . . . well, fuck, it’s intimate as hell. I’m not quite ready to reverse the roles, but watching him come undone is doing something to me.
When he glances my way, his red eyes unfocused and half-crazed, I kiss him without hesitation.
I can practically taste his pleasure as Celine works him over.
There’s no doubt that Alistair is a good kisser, even though there’s nothing soft about the way his lips move against mine.
I wrap my free hand around his neck so I can feel the tendon pulse without looking.
“You’re pushing it,” Alistair grumbles against my mouth.
I chuckle, then kiss his neck on impulse. “All that work to be mysterious, and I found your tell in thirty seconds.”
“Since I rarely let my informants suck me off, it doesn’t come up often.” Alistair drops back against the headboard and groans as Celine ups her pace.
“I don’t think she likes the idea of an informant getting you off,” I say.
Alistair’s eyes deepen to a vivid crimson, and his fingers leave the sheets, pulling Celine up until her swollen lips hover in front of his face. “It’s yours as long as you want it, angel.”
“Damn right it is,” she says, twisting her hand around his cock. “Now bite me and show me what all the rumors are about. Fair warning, if this experience isn’t as life-altering as—”
Alistair snaps.
He lunges as if he’s starving and sinks his fangs deep into her neck.
With my hand fisted in her hair, I freeze.
Her body jolts in my grip, spine bowing, heels quivering against my thighs on the bed.
A strangled gasp escapes her lips. I hold my breath, waiting to see if her reckless streak has finally caught up with her.
I’ll petrify him if she shows even a flicker of pain.
Then she moans.
Low. Ragged. Animal.
The sound hits like a lightning strike—raw and primal, the kind of moan that melts your spine and tightens everything below the belt. It’s pleasure laid bare, and my dick, exhausted seconds ago, hears the call and sits up.
Celine’s hands rise—almost as if she’s sleepwalking—then claw into Alistair’s hair, yanking him closer.
She can’t get enough. Her hips roll with each pull of his mouth, and her moaning turns to a broken wail.
Within seconds, she’s screaming. It starts low, then climbs higher, sharper, until I’m half-worried the windows will shatter or someone will call the cops.
I kiss her because I can’t not. Because I need to taste what he’s unleashing in her. And because if some neckbeard human cop shows up at the door before she comes again, I will kill him. That is not how I want to end the night.
With Celine’s hair clenched in my fist, her tongue in my mouth, and Alistair fang-deep in her neck, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever done.
Celine’s wings flare wide, sending a gust of cool air over our flushed skin, and wrap around us all in a cocoon. It’s possessive. She’s claiming us, and even if it’s only for tonight, I will never forget how good it feels to be hers.
When she stiffens against me, I tear my eyes open, unwilling to miss even one orgasm. I want to see them all, even if I have to tape my eyelids to my forehead.
Celine twitches, her voice catching on a broken cry. Her thighs quake. For a split second, her entire body goes rigid with tension. Then it breaks. The pleasure rips through her, and I watch, mesmerized, as she rides it out. She was born for this.
Alistair grunts, his cock jerking as he comes. Celine sags between us, like every drop of her energy went into that orgasm. He pulls his fangs free, licks the final drop of blood from her skin, then gently lays her on the bed.
“You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met,” he says. It’s a line, but somehow it comes across as the sincerest thing I’ve ever heard.
We lay there—I’m not sure how long—just breathing.
My body cools, allowing blood to return to my brain.
My thoughts are spinning. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened between us.
People talk about life-altering sex all the time, but I’ve never bought into the hype.
Sex is good. I enjoy it. But it’s never been like this before. Like something I’m not willing to lose.
The intimacy, the intensity . . . What if it makes Celine retreat? I need to do whatever I can to keep that from happening. Starting now.
“I’ll get the shower going,” I say, kissing Celine’s cheek then padding into the joined bathroom.
Like everything else in her apartment, it’s clean and organized, white tile sparkling under the cheap brass light fixture.
I turn the water on, poking around until I find a spare set of sheets in the cabinet.
I carry them back to the bedroom and take a minute to watch Alistair.
For all I know, he has crazy threesomes all the time.
Curled around Celine protectively, his red eyes are fixated, not on his bite mark, but on her face.
She’s half asleep, or in some kind of blissed-out state, a smile on her lips that makes her look like a Renaissance painting.
Alistair, though . . . Damn, he looks entranced.
Some of my tension eases. I understand that look. He’s a monster. Like me. Monsters kill, but they also protect. And with the way Alistair is staring at Celine now . . . he won’t hurt her. Even if I wasn’t sure, my basilisk is.
“If you want to get started in the shower, I’ll change the bedding,” I say, knowing good and well Celine won’t be a fan of waking up on dirty sheets.
Alistair nods, gathering her up in his arms and striding into the bathroom without a word. I realize I’m the only one who’s spoken since his fangs entered her neck.
I make quick work of the bed, putting the dirty sheets in the hamper and making sure the edges aren’t hanging over the sides. Celine wouldn’t melt down if I tossed them in the corner, but I want her to be comfortable.
After remaking the bed, I join them in the bathroom. Steam curls up from the shower as I pull back the curtain and step in. It’s a tight fit, but fuck, after what we were doing, who cares? Curling into Celine, I wrap my arms around her.
She hums, then turns her head to kiss me. There’s a hint of uncertainly on her face as she looks up at me. “Will you stay?”
“Duh,” I say, kissing her forehead, then reaching around Alistair for the shampoo. He runs a soapy washcloth over her meticulously, his eyes darting every so often to the bite on her neck.
“It will heal soon,” he assures her. “My saliva facilitates fast regeneration.” To make sure he can bite her again. That’s a handy evolutionary tool. I’m not completely sure how I feel about Alistair marking her, but that’s not my business.
Celine hums again. “You’ll have to give me another one, then,” she says.
Alistair’s eyes, which had returned to blue by the time I joined them in the shower, flash red again. His lips curl into a fang-tipped smile that shouldn’t be cute, but is. It’s ridiculous.
“You’re hogging the water,” I tell him. “I’m freezing back here.”