Lord of the Vampires (Royal House of Shadows #1)(84)
Author: Gena Showalter

“Oh,” was all she could first think to say, her anger draining completely. But she needed to respond, had to think of something light, easy. “To answer your question, you want me because I’m made of awesome. And guess what? I will make you so happy you said that, warrior.”

Warrior, rather than angel. She’d never called him that before. Why? And why now?

“No. I will make you happy.” He ripped her shirt just as she had done his robe. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her br**sts sprang free. Another tremor moved through him as he lowered his head.

He licked and sucked one nipple, as she had done to him, then the other, feasting. Savoring. Soon she was arching and writhing against him, craving his mouth elsewhere. Her skin was sensitized, her body desperate for release. Yet she didn’t want to rush him. She was still afraid of scaring him away. But damn him, if he didn’t hurry, didn’t touch her between her legs, she was going to die.

“Lysander,” she said on a trembling breath.

His wings brushed both her arms, up and down, tickling, caressing, raising goosebumps on her flesh. Holy hell, that was good. So damn good.

He lifted from her completely.

“Wh-what are you doing? I wasn’t going to tell you to leave,” she screeched, bracing her weight on her elbows.

“I do not want anything between us.” He shoved the robe down his legs until he was gloriously naked. Moisture gleamed at the head of his cock, and her mouth watered. Reaching out, he gripped her boots and tore them off. Her jeans quickly followed. She, of course, was not wearing any panties.

His gaze drank her in, and she knew what he saw. Her flushed, glowing skin. The aching juncture between her legs. Her rose-tinted ni**les.

“I want to touch and taste every inch,” he said and just kind of fell on her, as if his will to resist had abandoned him completely.

“Touch and taste every inch next time.” Please let there be a next time. She tried to hook her legs around his waist again. “I need release now.”

He grabbed her by the knees and spread her. Her head fell back, her hair tangling around her, and he kissed a path to her br**sts, then to her stomach. He lingered at her navel until she was moaning.

“Lysander,” she said again. Fine. She’d jump on this grenade if she had to; if he wanted to taste, he could taste. “More. I need more.”

Rather than give it to her, he stilled. “I…took care of myself before following you this day,” he admitted, cheeks pinkening. “I thought that would give me resistance against you.”

Her eyes widened, shock pouring through her. “You pleasured yourself?”

A stiff nod.

“Did you think of me?”

Another nod.

“Oh, baby. That’s good. I can picture it, and I love what I see.” His hand on his cock, stroking up and down, eyes closed, features tight with arousal, body straining toward release. Wings spread as he fell to his knees, the pleasure too much. Her, naked in his mind. “What did you think about doing?”

Another pause. A hesitant response. “Licking. Between your legs. Tasting you, as I said.”

She arched her back, hands skimming down her middle to her thighs. Although he already held her open, she pushed her legs farther apart. “Then do it. Lick me. I want it so bad. Want your tongue on me. See how wet I am?”

He hissed in a breath. “Yes. Yes.” Leaning down, he started at her ankles and kissed his way up, lingering at the back of her knees, at the crease of her legs.

“Please,” she said, so on edge she was ready to scream. “Please. Do it.”

“Yes,” he whispered again. “Yes.” Finally he settled over her, mouth poised, ready. His tongue flicked out. Then, sweet contact.

She expected the touch, but nothing could have prepared her for the perfection of it. She did scream, shivered. Begged for more. “Yes, yes, yes. Please, please, please.”

At first, he merely lapped at her, humming his approval at her taste. Thank the gods. Or God. Or whoever was responsible for this man. If he hadn’t liked her in that way, she wasn’t sure what she would have done. In that moment, she wanted—needed—to be everything he wanted—needed. She wanted him to crave every part of her, as she craved every part of him.

Even his goodness?

Yes, she thought, finally admitting it. Yes. Just then, she had no defenses; she’d been stripped to her soul. His goodness somehow balanced her out. She’d fought against it—and still had no plans to change—but they were two extremes and actually complemented each other, each giving the other what he or she lacked. In her case, the knowledge that some things were worth taking seriously. In his, that it wasn’t a crime to have fun.

“Bianka,” he moaned. “Tell me how…what…”

“More. Don’t stop.”

Soon his tongue was darting in and out of her, mimicking the act of sex. She grasped at the sheets, fisting them. She writhed, meeting his every thrust. She screamed again, moaned and begged some more.

Finally, she splintered apart. Bit down on her bottom lip until she tasted blood. White lights danced over her eyes—from her skin, she realized. Her skin was so bright it was almost blinding, glowing like a lamp, something that had never happened before.

Then Lysander was looming above her. “You are not fertile,” he rasped. Sweat beaded him.

That gave her fuzzy mind pause. “I know.” Her words were as labored as his. Harpies were only fertile once a year and this wasn’t her time. “But how do you know that?”

“Sense it. Always know that kind of thing. So…are you ready?” he asked, and she could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

He must not know proper etiquette, the darling virgin. He would learn. With her, there was no etiquette. Doing what felt good was the only thing that drove her.

“Not yet.” She flattened her hands on his shoulders and pushed him to his back, careful of his wings. He didn’t protest or fight her as she straddled his waist and gripped his c**k by the base. Her wings fluttered in joy at their freedom. “Better?”

He licked his lips, nodded. His wings lifted, enveloped her, caressing her. Her head fell, the long length of her hair tickling his thighs. He trembled.

Would he regret this? she suddenly wondered. She didn’t want him to hate her for supposedly ruining him. “Are you ready?” she asked. “There’s no taking it back once it’s done.” If he wasn’t ready, well, she would…wait, she realized. Yes, she would wait until he was ready. Only he would do. No other. Her body only wanted him.