Brink of Eternity (Guardians of Ascension #2.5)(6)
Author: Caris Roane

She cried out. Relief was in sight.

His right hand drifted low, to cup her bu**ocks. His hands were big so that he covered both cheeks at once and pressed her toward him.

“Heaven,” she whispered. “Just heaven.”

Gideon didn’t know whether he was totally pissed off or totally aroused. Okay, his c**k knew. He stood upright and ready.

He hadn’t expected this, but he understood. She’d pierced his mind, and like so many other experiences on Second Earth, the use of different preternatural powers often doubled the intensity of sexual response. Mind-diving during sex could be a major turn-on. Having his wing-locks stimulated during a climax was like taking a rocket ride into outer space.

He released her breast.

Maybe he was pissed off with Elise, but he understood her conundrum, which had now become his problem. There was only one sensible way to finish this.

He released her breast and looked up at her. “Elise,” he said. “Look at me.”

She met his gaze, her eyes at half-mast, her lips swollen. She didn’t say anything.

“You want me to f**k you?”

Her back arched and she squeezed her eyes shut. She leaned into him. “Yes,” squeaked out of her throat. Her hands gripped his shoulders.

He rose up, caught her around the waist with one arm and slid his free arm across her back. He lifted her off her feet, turned, then eased her onto the leather seat of the booth. Everything about the Blood and Bite had been designed to create moments like these, including the width of the seat, made large enough for his big warrior body.

He stretched out on top of her.

She surrounded his shoulders with both arms and whimpered. She fluttered her fingers all the way down his back. He cried out. Damn, that felt good, so good. His wing-locks ran in a V formation from shoulder to waist and were very sensitive. When ready for flight, his back would thicken, the apertures of his wing-locks would weep, then the wings would rush out through the well-lubricated locks. When not ready for flight, his back had a series of faint but discernible ridges—the wing-locks. Had she noticed the ridges?

“I love your wing-locks,” she whispered, as though having read his mind. She knew his body. She remembered what he liked.

He met her gaze. “So you were never enthralled.”

She shook her head as her gaze fell to his lips. “Forgive me,” she whispered. “Please.”

Aw, hell. He nodded. “You didn’t have to come here. You didn’t have to warn me about Rachel.”

“How could I not have come? She’s the most important person in your life. I do care about you, Gideon. I do.” Tears swam in her eyes. She’d never looked more beautiful.

And there it was, the real problem, that he knew her soul, that she was kind and considerate, a decent woman.

He kissed her. He still might be a little pissed, but he was also grateful. His eyes burned as he drifted his tongue over her lips. She opened her mouth and he drove inside. Her body, caught up in all that sensation, bucked against his.

He slid his knee between her legs. And like the signal he meant it to be, she spread her legs wide for him so that he could get between. She moaned where he touched her, his hand caressing her hip then lower and lower. He looked into her eyes and rubbed the backs of his fingers over her soft black hair.

How many times had he gone down on her, easing his tongue through every tender bit of her flesh, every curve and line of her until she was panting and crying out over his back, her nails digging deep and making him hard.

“Take me now,” she whispered.

Maybe it was the fact that he knew that this time,this time, would be the last, but a sense of urgency, of time having dropped the last grain of sand into the hourglass, made him pause as he pressed himself into her opening. He lifted up on his arms so he could watch. He pushed and inch by inch began sliding into her. She was wet, so very wet. She gripped his forearms, pulling on him, urging him on.

“Elise,” he whispered. He met her gaze.

“Do it, Gideon.”

Then he plunged hard.

Elise cried out. Her mind still felt dizzy, as though she wasn’t quite recovered from being inside his mind.

He groaned as he slid back and back. He moved into her and she held him tight, pulling him inside, savoring every powerful inch of him.

His lips found hers and his hips grew urgent, plunging hard now and oh, it felt so good.

She gave herself to the feel of his body as her hands roved his shoulders. He groaned as her hands met his pecs and pinched his ni**les. She rubbed over them with her palms.

His rhythm was always good. He was hard as a rock and pushed against that internal part of her that grew achy with pleasure until she was one steady whimper, little ohs that puffed from her mouth.

“Gideon.”

He slowed his movements and met her gaze. His lips were parted, swollen. His hair swayed as he thrust. “What do you need? I’ll do anything.”

Anything?

She licked her lips. Her gaze fell to his vein.

His hips jerked and he cried out. “Shit. Do you want me to take your blood?”

“Yes.” One long breathless word. “I could never ask you before now, but I wanted to. I wanted to beg you. I love it when you drink from me. I loved all the places you took blood from me.”

His body contorted and he paused over her. He closed his eyes.

She felt his c**k jerk deep within. He gasped and held his breath. She didn’t move. He was on the precipice and even speaking about taking her blood had nearly brought him.

He started breathing again. He opened his eyes. “Okay. Show me what you want me to do.” His voice was deep and he smelled of toffee, lots of toffee.

She pushed the hair away from the left side of her neck. She turned her head and exposed her throat to him. His hips began to pump as he lowered his upper body to her. He overlaid her jaw with his hand and pinned her, his forearm pressed into the seat for leverage.

She cried out and clenched in anticipation. She loved that he restrained her, that he had her pinned to the booth.

He dragged the thick upper part of his fangs over her throat, then licked her neck. Shivers chased down her chest and tightened her ni**les. She cried out again. She felt saliva fall on her neck. Her hips jerked into him.

He grunted and licked. She felt her vein rise to meet him, as though his vampire nature called forth what he required. He twisted his upper body and with a feral huff he struck.

As he began to take deep draws from her neck, his hips moved faster, rubbing over that achy part of her, low, so very low. Oh, God.