Born of Ashes (Guardians of Ascension #4)(58)
Author: Caris Roane

He drank his fill from her neck and she kept the memory in front of his mind. He grunted his approval.

But her body ached now, in so many places at once. I need more, she sent, her hands rubbing up and down his biceps, to his wrists. She rolled her fingers around in his palms.

He finally released her neck, but he looked wild, his mouth red, blood dripping down his chin. He was in so many respects a gentleman that to see him like this both surprised her then made everything within the deepest part of her body pull into a knot. She needed him and she needed him now.

“Fuck me.”

He put a palm between her br**sts, his brow low as he stared at her. The next moment her clothes simply disappeared.

Another blink and his clothes were gone.

She looked around, wondering what he meant to do in this place of earth, stone, and water. There was a chaise-longue nearby but she doubted it would hold his weight and hers.

She watched the pad disappear and before she could determine what he intended, he flipped her around and forced her down onto the same pad.

She started to turn over, but his movements were brusque as he pushed a leg wide, then her other leg, her arms as well until she was on all fours and somehow that seemed exactly what she needed.

He was behind her and she thought he would simply thrust into her. Instead, she felt a hand on her hip and the next thing she knew his tongue was all over her, very low, thrusting, tasting, pushing everywhere.

She cried out, arching her back. Oh, God.

His mind, still connected within her, still possessing her, shouting Mine. He swept his tongue up her body then licked at her left buttock. She panted and wept. She trembled.

Then his fangs struck deep into the flesh of her bottom and she felt the potion leave fire and pleasure behind that began streaking down and down.

“Oh, God, oh, God!” she cried, long and loud.

He did the same to her other buttock so that she had two lines of intense sensation flowing toward everything that was delicate, swollen, and aching beyond words.

Then he rose up behind her, pushing her legs farther apart. She felt his thighs against the backs of hers and his hard c**k poised at her opening. She could hear him breathing in deep draws. Do you feel the potion? he sent.

“Yes.”

How close are you?

She knew what he meant. She panted, swift short draws of air. Her back arched. Almost. Oh, God. Almost.

She gave a cry, which was all he needed. He drove into her, holding her hips to keep her seated in the position he wanted her. Now he thrust, hard bucks of his hips, taking what he wanted, what he intended to mark.

The orgasm barreled down like a sudden waterfall over a cliff. Pleasure flowed in a hard swift wave of sensation and she screamed and screamed, because it kept coming.

She felt his hand at the back of her neck as he wrapped her long hair in his hand and pulled her back toward him so that her back was arched as he thrust into her.

He was still pumping and she could feel her pleasure building again. The potion intensified every sensation. He had one arm looped low now around her waist as the other, holding her hair, arched her back so that his mouth was against her ear. “You must stay away from other men, do you hear me, Fiona? Do you understand?”

She tried to nod but he held her trapped and she didn’t mind at all, because pleasure began to erupt. “Yes,” she cried out then screamed some more.

That’s when he sank his fangs on the opposite side of her neck and began to drink once more as he plunged into her. He held her immobile but it seemed to help the sensations that worked her flesh. She screamed and screamed.

His body tightened and he was so hard. He released her so that she once more supported herself on her hands. He gripped her hips again and as he came he let out another roar, a resonant sound that filled the stone grotto. His roars echoed up and down the nearby stream, and what had been a mad chattering of birds stopped.

The whole world fell silent before the claiming sounds of his voice as he pumped into her, rocking her body wildly, and giving her what only a man could give.

Her arms ached from holding the position, but she was smiling. She tried to think back on her former life. She thought of her husband, but what a mistake since Jean-Pierre was still within her mind and knew her thoughts. He leaned over her, still connected, and growled in her ear. He huffed as well, several times, blowing into her ear and on her face.

She drew out of the memory. I was thinking only that I had been such a good woman in those days and now I’m here. I thought I was happy then, but civilization robs us of something, I think.

The only answer he gave was to shift his body while remaining connected low. He pushed away her hair then, without using his fangs, he bit down hard and held her like that, his big gorgeous teeth sunk into her neck and holding her immobile.

His breathing was ragged. She still gasped for each breath. She had the weirdest thought that she wanted to stay like this forever, that no matter what happened, life could get no better than this … ever.

In stages, he began to withdraw from her mind and when he left, the sense of aloneness pinched at her. She almost begged him to return.

He took his time leaving the well of her body, almost as though he knew, too, that once separated, life would again swell in a huge wave, flow between them and pull them apart once more.

But when he did withdraw, she rolled on her back on the soft pad, pulling up her legs to maneuver around his since he didn’t move. He was on his knees at the very end of the pad. He looked so serious, which made her concerned. What on earth was he thinking?

* * *

Jean-Pierre stared at the woman he had just taken. His brain seemed fractured and incapable of pulling together in order to once more start forming rational, sensible thoughts. He had taken her roughly, as someone who had become more beast than man. He had brought her repeatedly, so he knew she had been pleasured, but what must she think of him now? He hardly knew what to think of himself.

“The breh-hedden is an exacting master,” he said at last.

She nodded, her lips parted. She had bruises on both sides of her neck. She looked well used, her eyelids low, her lips swollen and bearing a faint curve. She was still breathing hard, as was he.

Her gaze moved over him in such a way that he swelled his chest and tightened his abs. She lifted up on her elbows then leaned forward to extend a hand to the dark line of hair below his navel. She drifted her hand lower until she touched his cock, which hung both satisfied and still partially erect off to the left.

She didn’t touch him, though, perhaps understanding that he would be sensitive. Instead, she planted her hand, her thumb around the base, so that her skin met his skin and part of his thick pubic hair. “Mine,” she whispered.