Rite #2
Ditto with loving Hurley felt right at home.
“Yes,” I answered Tanyn about the wine. “But I’m going up to change and get comfortable.”
He sent me a wicked smile.
Okay.
That smile?
We could take a few sips of wine then I would pounce on him.
I wandered upstairs, then to my closet, programmed a lounge outfit (black ribbed leggings and a matching wraparound top that showed midriff and cleavage).
I went to the bathroom and saw the results of my trip-home preparations. The new spa-visor, mane-mate, cosme-mask and Denti-Clean boxes were sitting on the bathroom counter.
With an extra Denti-Clean for Tanyn.
I used the spa-visor, and by the time I wandered out of the bathroom into the closet, I saw Tanyn’s bags were on the bench there. The overnighter open, and he’d clearly pawed through it.
Nice.
This meant he was in his jammies.
On this thought, I came out of the closet smiling.
Mm-hm.
He was in his jammies.
Or…the bottoms of them.
Again, nice.
When he saw me, his eyes turned pitch and his expression turned hungry.
“You love to torture me, don’t you?” he asked.
“Whatever do you mean?” I asked coyly, and oh yes, I hitched a hip and jutted out my breasts, striking a pose.
He grunted.
Totally, the whole cavemale thing was attractive.
I went to him, got the wine he’d poured for me and climbed into bed with it.
Hurley jumped up with me.
Tanyn settled beside us, his back to the headboard, his long legs stretched out in front of him.
“I’m thinking of replacing this bed with a hover bed,” I shared after taking a sip of wine.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because, when you move at night, it moves with you, and when it senses you’ve woken, you can program it to rock you back to sleep. I slept on one when I was at Capice Point, and it was mega.”
“They’re shit when you fuck.”
Interesting.
“Really?”
“The bed moving with you takes the power out of the thrust.”
I frowned. “Aleksei and Laura have one at the penthouse, and she never complained.”
“Yes. But they have shifter sex. We have demon sex.”
I sipped again and did not get into the fact that I’d had sex with species other than demons, and I didn’t find much different about the process.
Of course, demons liked a dose of pain with their pleasure, and it could get mildly bloody and violent.
Though, I could say Tanyn had extraordinary power in his hips.
Mm.
Not addressing any of that, I asked, “Is there a difference?”
“Never had a session with another species who can take as sound a fucking as you.”
Ignoring his mention of having sex with other females (necessarily) and flipping my hair off my shoulder, I preened.
And got another smile from my male.
“Your Denti-Clean was delivered. Now we need to sort some clothes for you to leave down here,” I told him.
“According to you, I have plenty of staff to pack my bags for the journey.”
“It still would be nice if, when we wanted to come down here, we could just hop in the jet or a craft and come down here. Don’t you think?”
He gifted me with a sweet smile, before he took a sip of wine.
Tanyn’s way of saying, Whatever you want, have it.
It was official.
This was my new favorite time of day.
And that was not (entirely) about getting my way.
It was about being in bed, with Tanyn (and Hurley), our days done. Whatever we had to do that was pressing on us, it could wait for tomorrow.
For then, it was just us.
Being together.
Oh yes.
My favorite part of the day.
For certain.
To my surprise, I’d maneuvered the top.
Maybe it was because we started with Tanyn having his back to the headboard, his long legs stretched out, but his chest was on offer.
Thus, I’d swung astride him to pay that glorious swathe of skin the attention it deserved. I worked my way down. I worked his pajama bottoms down. I worked his cock with my hand and mouth. And then I worked off my leggings and top.
So now, he still had his back to the headboard, his arms around me, and I had his jaw in my hands while I was riding his dick.
No demon sex tonight.
Tonight, we were not making love.
I was going slow, savoring each rise and fall, clench and release, emptying then feeling full again.
Complete.
However, I was wrong about demon sex.
I knew it when Tanyn stuck his thumb in my mouth.
He made a noise that came from deep in his chest when I sucked on it. A noise that made me go faster.
And then he dragged the pad of it hard across the edge of my bottom teeth, and even harder when he hit an incisor.
I tasted his blood.
Lilith.
And I went faster.
He took his thumb out of my mouth, put it in his, and I watched as he used his own teeth to rip the cut open even further.
And I moved faster.
Because…
Oh my gods…
He was performing the blood rite.
He then put the wound to my lips, rubbing the blood against them.
Yes.
Gods.
Yes.
This was the demon blood rite.
The ritual sex demons had been having since the dawn of time.
The ritual sex demons had when they claimed a mate.
He dragged a trail of his blood down my chin, under it, down my throat, chest, between my breasts, my belly, all the way to our connection.
His mark on me, I was riding wild now.
“Honey,” I panted.
“You,” he bit off.
With no hesitation, I moved one of my hands from his jaw, slid my thumb inside his mouth, and bounced with abandon as he first sucked the blood to the tip, then bit hard, breaking skin, the sharp pain utterly divine.
I rubbed my blood against his lips, over his chin, down his throat, his chest, to our connection.
His hands went to my hips and assisted in tugging me up and slamming me down.
“You are mine, Catla Truelock,” he declared thickly.
Yes.
Yes, I was.
I so totally was.
“Say it,” he grunted.
“I’m yours, Tanyn Firefierce.”
He drove me down, filling me, then gripped my hair and pulled my mouth to his.
“And I am yours,” he ground out, also grinding me down on his big dick.
I whimpered against his lips before we kissed, mingling the blood on our bodies, as he released my hair so I could keep bouncing.
And we continued kissing, even after the orgasm washed up and over me, drowning me in Tanyn, and then his did the same to him.
I was breathing heavier than normal while coming down, my face stuffed in his neck.
Each breath was a direct shot of his skin, the scent of his hair, the tang of our blood, the musk of our sex.
It was intoxicating, and I never wanted to be sober again.
He was soothing me with his hands, still hard inside me, filling me full.
And then, for some reason, I started weeping.
Okay, that wasn’t true.
I knew the reason.
It was because I’d found my one.
And he was perfect.
His hands came to my hair, smoothing it back, gathering it, holding it at my nape as he whispered, “Baby, hey. Hey, hey, hey, baby.”
“I’m s-sorry. I’m b-eing stupid,” I sniveled.
“How are you being stupid?”
I pulled my face out of his neck. “Crying after the blood rite.”
“Well, my love, I’d hope it would mean as much to you as it does to me,” he murmured.
As much to you as it does me.
I fought wailing at just how much it meant to me, not only the rite, but that I knew to my bones it meant just that much to him too.
To assist me to not losing myself (completely) to emotion, I assured him, “It does.”
“You’re going to be my queen.” It was a statement, not a question.
He’d said this before.
It was different this time, and we both knew it.
And that difference wasn’t solely because, this time, I replied, “Yes, Tanny. I’m going to be your queen.”
He groaned and crushed me to him.
This display of how much this meant to him set me to crying again.
After a while, he asked, “Are you still scared?”
“Maybe just a little.”
“But are you still happy?”
I drew in a deep breath and replied, “That would be a whole lot.”
His arms squeezed.
I rested my weight against him.
He accepted it, no problem.
That was my Tanny.
That was my king.