Ecstasy in Darkness (Alien Huntress #5)(62)
Author: Gena Showalter

“That only happened once!” Her knees squeezed at his waist.

“Ava.” A warning. The only one she’d get. Not that he thought he had the strength to leave her like this.

She flashed her teeth at him, pearls in the darkness. “You said you’d finish me off.”

“And I will.” He was the one to go still this time. Any more contact with her sweet femininity, and he would take her all the way. “Without asking for blood.”

“But you already took some. You sucked on my tongue.”

And you begged for it. “You didn’t have a problem with that.”

“Just … finish me, damn it!”

“When you tell me what I want to hear.” Please.

A low growl erupted from her throat. “Fine. You’re McKell.”

He flashed his teeth at her, and they were much, much sharper. “Who. Am. I?”

A pause. Then, a snarled, “Victor, okay? You’re Victor. Now, will you stop with the he-man act and get to—”

He shoved her panties aside and thrust his finger deep inside her. The cry that next left her was neither reckless nor relieved. The cry that left her was animalistic, her back shooting off the seat. In and out he penetrated her, those silky walls gripping him, greedy for more.

More, he could give. He inserted a second finger, stretching her.

“Yes!”

In. Out. Hard. No mercy. He had none. She wanted none.

“Thank you! Yes, please, more.”

He bit through her shirt, her bra, not hard enough to break skin, but just hard enough to suck her nipple into his mouth and flick his tongue against the jeweled peak. What color was this nipple? he wondered. He wanted to see. Wanted her naked. Yes, he’d seen her before, but she’d been unconscious then, not lost to passion. Would that passion flush her skin to a dusty rose?

Through the speakers, he heard one of the vampires in the backseat moan, as if about to waken.

Mine! McKell stopped time only long enough to open the shield-armor separating front and back, punch the bastard in the nose, causing blood to splatter, then command the block to return. He resettled on Ava, fingers probing back inside their new favorite spot, never missing a beat. She gripped his shoulders and continued to slam her hips into his, rocking against him with every ounce of her strength.

His c**k loved every motion, every point of contact, swelling, heating, her fever becoming his, his becoming hers. He’d never spilled his seed inside his pants, but he was close to doing so with Ava, his sac drawn tight, every inch of him wanting to crawl inside her—and if he couldn’t, punish him for the lack.

“Close,” she rasped.

“Closer.” He razed his fingertip along that bundle of nerves and pressed.

“McKell!” she shouted, inner walls suddenly clutching him. Her come drenched his hand, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop his own orgasm. Oh, yes. He’d never been this close.

Several minutes passed before she relaxed into the seat. They were both panting, but a resplendant smile lifted the corners of her lips. She stretched, a contented feline who’d just consumed an entire bowl of cream.

“Your turn,” she said silkily. “I got caught up and forgot about you. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not.” Slowly, reluctantly he removed his fingers from her. As she watched, he licked them, one at a time, finally tasting her as he’d longed to do since the first moment he’d met her. Though she had just experienced the ultimate in satisfaction, desire once again heated her eyes.

“Delicious,” he said, and meant it. Total femininity, an aphrodisiac. Sweet.

He ran a still-damp finger over the seam of her lips, bent down, and fed her a kiss. To his surprise, she reached between their bodies and fit a hand over his engorged shaft. So sublime was the sensation, he had to reach up and slap his palm against the windowpane. The glass cracked from top to bottom. He didn’t care. Either he hit the glass, or punched the seat below her, possibly scaring her.

“Yes!” he cried. “More.”

She squeezed, moved that hand up and down, tantalizing his tip, spreading the drop of moisture there, even through his clothes, then descending to his balls and tugging those. Closer still …

The car slowed, then stopped as Ava worked his zipper. Sweat heaven, yes! He needed this, had to have it, would die—

There was a knock on the door.

Rage sparked to instant life, and he twisted, meaning to lash out, to kill without mercy, then return to his woman and finally finish this. A smiling Noelle waved at him, unafraid of his murderous intent. She even wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Go the f**k away!” he shouted.

“Not until I’ve had a little of this,” Ava said with a husky chuckle.

Noelle mouthed something, but because of the glass and the roar in his ears, he couldn’t hear. But then, he didn’t need to hear to know what she’d said. “Open.” The window lowered, and she leaned inside, still grinning.

“Hey, y’all. Whatcha doing?”

“Noelle?” Ava stiffened. A moment later, she was shoving at McKell’s chest. “Damn it! I can’t believe we’re already here.”

He lifted, straightened, and righted his clothing while she righted her own, her cheeks bright red. His probably were, too. “Why couldn’t you live farther from the club?” he mumbled.

Noelle’s grin widened. “So I can enjoy moments like this. Duh.”

“Well, you don’t have to stare,” Ava gritted.

“I know, but I want to,” Noelle replied, still completely unabashed.

“You are such a bad friend.”

“You’re a bad friend. I’m still waiting on my laundry.”

“You’re doing mine now. Remember?”

He listened to the byplay, trying to get his body under control. Impossible. The fire continued to rage, his muscles continued to twitch, and his c**k continued to ache. It was going to be a long night. Unless … “Go inside. I’ll meet you in … five minutes.” He could take care of himself in that short amount of time.

Both women snorted.

“Hardly,” Noelle said. “We’ve got business.”

Yes. A long night.

As Ava scooted passed him, she commanded the door to open. The latch separated from the vehicle and she moved the rest of the way out, practically knocking Noelle to her ass.

“This is your fault, McKell,” she snapped over her shoulder.

“My fault?” He scooted out, too, and unfolded to a stand. “How is it my fault?”