Chains of Darkness (Men in Chains #2)(62)
Author: Caris Roane

He moved around to position himself behind her. For what he wanted to do, her short hair helped. He nuzzled her throat, kissing her neck, licking the vein.

She tilted her head in response. “Yes.”

He drifted one hand low, catching her between her legs. He kneaded her gently, which by the undulation of her h*ps he could tell pleased her.

With his other hand, he covered both br**sts easily at the same time, teasing the ni**les into a firm state.

His c**k was hard. He pressed it against her cheeks, rubbing up her ass-crack. She pushed back against him as he licked her throat just above the vein. Her blood, as always, smelled so sweet.

Lucian, do it. Oh, my God, do it. I need you to take from me.

Her voice inside his head almost made him come. He’d loved hearing her from the first moment telepathy had arrived for them. His fangs emerged fully and with the practice of centuries he struck. Her warm blood flooded his mouth.

He created a seal over the wound and began to suck, his h*ps pushing his c**k against her ass, his hands working her br**sts and the soft wetness between her legs.

He needed more. Spread your legs, Claire. Let me give you release like this. I want to feel you come on my fingers.

She made that unh sound of hers as she parted her legs. He slid two fingers inside and started to pump, teasing the place on the upper inside of her well, the place where pleasure sparked for a female.

Lucian. So much pleasure.

Her breathing grew ragged, so he drove his fingers harder. He pinned his arm over her br**sts to sustain the hold on her throat because she writhed as she came, crying out repeatedly, deep cries as ecstasy took hold of her body and pleasure flowed.

When her body settled down, he relaxed his grip on her then released her neck. He watched the holes shrink quickly to nothing the moment he let go.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her. She covered his arms with her hands and rubbed back and forth. He’d never had this, not in his long life, the feel of a woman in his arms, someone he’d had more than once, whom he’d fed from this many times in a row.

His throat grew tight.

He didn’t want this to end and that was a first. He’d never been so tempted as he was now, but Claire needed to go home, wanted it desperately. And she deserved to be back with her family and to pick up her life.

Making this about her helped, because he didn’t want to think about the other truth: that he could never ask her to stay, that the darkness in him would live there forever because of Daniel, that he couldn’t really be trusted, that one day the darkness would escape and he’d never be able to bring it back.

He picked her up and laid her out on the bed. Still standing, he leaned close. “What do you want, Claire? I’ll do anything you ask.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes. She touched her hand to his face, something she did often. She leaned up and kissed him, then thumbed his lips. “Just make love to me like I’m your woman, like we’re two regular people who’ve been together for a while, and just want to make love.”

He nodded, despite the fact that he’d never had that kind of relationship. But something about Claire seemed so easy to him, as though he couldn’t make a mistake with her, even if he tried.

He climbed on the bed and forced her knees apart. She smiled and took a deep breath, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as he stretched out on top of her.

He kissed her, all the while wishing for what he couldn’t have.

She responded, her fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders, his arms, his back. She suckled his tongue, biting his lips gently, kissing down his throat.

At last he held his c**k to her opening, then glided into all her wetness, watching her mouth open wide and a heavy moan leave her throat.

He stayed in just that position above her so he could watch her as he flexed his h*ps and thrust, driving in and out, fast then slow, then fast again.

He liked working her body and watching her pleasure float across her face: the lift of a brow, a wince that looked like pain but was just the opposite, then another moan.

He lowered himself, forearms to either side. He could still watch her but his body had become demanding. He could have split into two parts, he could have bitten her again, he could have moved at lightning speed, but right now he wanted to give her what she’d asked for, to make love to her just like she’d asked, like they were a couple and had been together a long time.

She was breathing hard and staring into his eyes. He was feeling so much, and the chains vibrated heavily so he knew she was just as caught up as he was.

Claire.

Tears fill her eyes. I know. Just f**k me, Lucian. Let me feel you come. I want to watch you come. Keep looking at me.

He pushed deeper, strong heavy pushes, his body ready. He thumbed her cheek.

He was so hard.

He felt her tighten down low and gasp. She gripped his arms, holding his gaze.

I’m ready.

He moved faster, then with a few pumps more he started to release, the pleasure gripping and streaking as his c**k jerked.

She cried out, but stayed with him. “I’m coming.” Her voice was hoarse, and tears tracked down her face. “Lucian. Lucian.” More tears. “God this feels good, so good.”

His h*ps began to slow and her hands moved to his neck then his face. She still looked at him, though tears flowed. “That was perfect. Exactly what I wanted.”

“You’re perfect.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them. But he’d spoken the truth.

Her brows lifted in surprise. She wiped her face. “Thank you for saying that. Oh, God, Lucian, I’ll treasure this night forever.”

The ache in his chest hadn’t eased up, so he took a deep breath and pulled out of her. “I’ll get you something.”

“Lucian?”

Sitting on the side of the bed, he looked back at her.

She dipped her chin. “It’ll be okay. We’ll both be okay.”

Like hell, but he nodded anyway, trying not to think too much, feel too much.

He left the bed and returned with a washcloth, then without saying anything else he got in the shower. He breathed hard while he soaped up and was grateful for the running water because he’d turned into a weeper. He didn’t want her to see him this way. He scrubbed his face and was actually grateful when the soap stung his eyes. He could blame the soap.

He chuckled softly then slammed his fist against the tile.

To Claire’s credit and maybe because the chains told the tale anyway, she said nothing in response. In every way possible, she’d grown very quiet.