Ecstasy in Darkness (Alien Huntress #5)(61)
Author: Gena Showalter

She scratched his back, stinging so good, before stiffening again. “Wait. I … we … maybe we should … I don’t know, slow down.”

If by “slow down” she meant “go faster,” he was on board. “Why?” His tongue stroked that still gorgeous pulse, tracing the vein, heating the blood inside, preparing her for total possession.

“You aren’t my type?”

She’d probably meant the words as a statement, not a question, and he took offense. He stopped grinding, stopped licking. Only glared. “What kind of man is your type, then?”

“I don’t know.” As her nails glided forward, scraping his pectorals, she lifted up and nibbled on his bottom lip. “Rich and cute. I’m flexible on the cute part, though.”

He closed his eyes, savoring her attentions. She didn’t want to slow down, then. Had only uttered the words because she felt they were expected of her. “I can obtain money.”

“Honestly?”

He thrummed her ni**les, making her gasp. “You said nothing about being rich through honest means.”

A shiver moved through her and vibrated into him. “Oh, well, then. Scratch the money part. I want cute.”

“I’m cute.”

“No, you’re dazzling. But no one can know about us until the case is over. Assuming we’re still together, then. Okay? That’s the only way I can allow this.”

“We’ll still be together then.” Best she know that now, though this reaction was far better than the panic she’d offered when he’d moved in. Still. That she wanted to hide him, as if he were shameful … he didn’t like it, wouldn’t allow it for long, even for the good of the case. For the moment, however, he wanted her and would have given her the moon and stars had she asked. “Besides, if you kiss a man, but no one knows about it, it never really happened. Like the tree that falls in the woods …”

A moment passed, their panting breaths the only sound to be heard. Then she smiled slowly, wickedly, arousal blending with satisfaction. “There’s a new requirement for my list. A devious mind, and baby, you’ve got that, too.”

“So you want me?” he asked, rewarding her with another heated lick, this one up the column of her delicate neck.

“Yes.” A gasp. “But if you’re just doing this to soften me, to get on my good side for a blood donation—”

He pressed, his erection playing hide and seek with her sweet spot. “You have a good side?” Raw tone, taunting words.

Her next moan was broken, hoarse. “Ha, ha. I mean, if you’re going to prime me up, then demand I give you blood as payment, I’ll kill you. I swear to God I will. And yes, you now have two death threats hanging over your beautiful head.”

He pressed again, silencing her, his c**k practically singing at the contact. “If you meant to prime me up only to demand I finish you off, I’ll have no problem with that.”

“Smart-ass.” She tongued his mouth, hot and clearly as hungry as he was. “But you’re so devious, and you know how that revs my engine.”

He released one of her br**sts to blaze a trail down the flat plane of her stomach. Her soft, quivering stomach. She had several blades strapped there, and he twisted them aside to dabble at her navel for a moment, unable to help himself. Such delightful skin. By the time they ended this, he would have explored all of her. Every burning inch.

“McKell,” she moaned, and never had his title sounded sweeter. “You’re priming me.”

He’d waited all these centuries for Bride, but now, more than ever, he couldn’t regret that he hadn’t won her. He would have missed this opportunity. He would not have seen Ava like this, consumed by pleasure, beseeching him for more.

“Just as you’re priming me. But Victor, darling. My name is Victor.”

“I know. Can I call you Vicki?”

He chuckled softly. Irreverent baggage. Even now, while the pleasure beat so strongly between them. “You can call me whatever you wish.” But it wouldn’t get her what she needed.

He unfastened her jeans, creating a gap just large enough for his hand. Trembling, he tunneled through and found her panties. They were damp.

She thrashed her hips restlessly. “Do it. Please.”

And now his irreverent baggage was a commander. He liked. Not that he would obey.

Remaining on the outside of the fabric, he cupped her. Still he felt the heat, the wetness. His cock, already hard and desperate, filled all the more, making him impossibly harder, and far more desperate.

The car eased around a corner, tilting to the left, and they pressed deeper into the seat. Streetlamps stood closer together, and as they continued to speed down the roads, Ava was illuminated, then cast into shadows. Illuminated, shadows.

My beauty, he thought proudly. He traced the soft skin around the edge of the panties, never quite touching the place she needed him most. Over and over he teased her. Almost caressing her clitoris … teasing … no, not this time. Light as a feather, letting her know he was there, that he could do more at any second. Nope, not this time, either.

Finally, she had clearly had enough, her desire, her need, propelled to new heights, her hips following his every motion, her skin a fever of sensitized nerves. Yet still he didn’t touch her there. Just a little more … nope, missed again.

She balled her fists and pounded on his chest. “Do you need a map?”

“No. But I do need confirmation.” Not doing what she wanted, what he wanted, was putting a strain on his body. Perspiration sheened his skin. His blood was like fire in his veins, scorching him to ash. The ache inside him … Each of his muscles was taunt, his skin pulled too tight on his bones.

“Of what?” She went still, a goddess carved from stone. To find relief? Even in so small a way?

He would give her none. “I need confirmation that you know who’s here with you. That you know whose hand you crave.” The hand in question finally glided over her center. A quick movement, only slightly more satisfying.

A reckless cry parted her lips. “Yours. I know it’s yours.”

“And who am I?” Another glide, this one lingering. He’d just found the corridor to heaven; he could no longer stay away.

Another cry filled the space between them. “Why do … you want … to know?”

“I don’t want you forgetting later.” Direct hit. “I don’t want you thinking back and convincing yourself you were with the wrong person. Someone better suited to your list.” Direct hit, harder, more forcefully.