No Rest for the Wicked (Immortals After Dark #3)(47)
Author: Kresley Cole

When he moved her bodily so he could lie between her legs, she said, "Bastian, I-I can’t… not so soon."

She pushed at him when he spread her legs wide once more, but he yanked her arms to her sides and clutched her wrists, capturing her in place.

"Spread your legs," he ordered in a tone that dared her to deny him.

She did with a whimper, knowing what was to come. He set back in, more aggressive, emboldened at how he’d made her come already, at how she’d given off lightning. He’d worried that he would be awful at this, that she would yawn with boredom. But she’d made it so easy with her moans and cries, letting him know exactly how she liked to be kissed.

When he decided to try suckling her clitoris, she moaned with abandon, head thrashing on the pillow, making him grind his c**k into the mattress in agony. Her legs fell wide again in total surrender, and light exploded outside; the plane shook as she rolled her h*ps to his waiting tongue.

"Yes… yes… yes," she cried, panting, writhing. She screamed – loudly – when she came, and though he held her wrists, her claws dug down and shredded the sheets.

He devoured her until he’d wrung every last whimper from her. Then he kissed her silky thighs where he’d squeezed too hard, wanting to soothe her even as he ached.

"Bastian?" she murmured.

He finally pulled himself away and rose to sit back on his haunches, not bothering to hide his amazement. She appeared to share the feeling. "Well" – she had to swallow before continuing – "you’re, uh, certainly no slouch in that department."

Sebastian was proud and relieved. Very relieved. But now he would have to leave her. He had a c**k full of seed that would not be denied. And he’d promised her he’d do no more than touch her. Even in the unlikely event that she wanted to make love to him, he didn’t want her to in exchange for anything –

"Bastian," she purred. "I want to touch you."

He shook his head. "I told you I wouldn’t." But when she reached out her soft palm, his h*ps shot forward, seemingly of their own accord, to place his c**k at her disposal.

By the time he’d gathered the will to think about denying her, she’d already undone his jeans.

In a throaty whisper, she asked, "Do you think I could let that go unrewarded?"

Kaderin grasped his shaft, pulling it free. Her eyes widened at her first sight.

Gods, he was glorious. The crown was glistening, the shaft so thick as it pulsed and throbbed in her palm.

She glanced up to find his face flushed as he looked down to where she held him. When she caught his darkened eyes, she realized he wanted her to like what they were doing, that he wanted her to find him attractive.

"I love the way you feel," she murmured as she circled her fingers around him, squeezing him firmly in her fist until he groaned low. "I couldn’t stop touching you even if I tried."

Pulling on him, she eased him down to where he rested over her on his hands and knees. Then, stroking his length, she touched the head to her breast. He began shuddering, his legs shaking. She rubbed it against the flesh, even around one of her ni**les. With her other hand, she cupped his heavy sack, kneading.

She saw him clench his jaw and sensed he was just preventing himself from thrusting into her palm to end this. "Katja… I’m about to… come."

"Yes!" She stroked him harder, faster.

He bit out, "Like this – ?"

She pressed the head directly to her aching nipple.

"Ah, God – " The words ended with a brutal yell as he ejaculated against her. She pumped her fist, shivering at the first contact. The room lit with lightning once more.

When she’d stroked him spent, he looked as if he could scarcely believe what he’d done. "I didn’t expect… I didn’t plan for this."

She bit her bottom lip. "I know."

Without another word, he pushed up, tucking his shaft back into his jeans, looking angry with himself. He rose to go to the luxurious bathroom, then returned with a plush towel, wetted on the end. When he sat beside her, he clearly wondered what the protocol was. He held up the towel with raised eyebrows, and she nodded, stifling a smile.

He reached out to clean her br**sts with languid strokes, staring avidly. He exhaled a long breath and muttered, "I can’t believe I did this."

Each of his light strokes relaxed her even more, and she gave him a lazy grin, no doubt surprising him. Hey, what could she say? She’d needed him for tonight, and he’d satisfied her thoroughly. Even if they hadn’t made love.

Kaderin found it sexy as hell that he wasn’t too suave and overly practiced in bed, the way she’d heard immortal men could be – nor was he jaded. He didn’t try to hide how much pleasure he was feeling, or check his words, or downplay how much he ached.

She sighed, every muscle in her body relaxed. "Bastian, I thought tonight was wonderful."

"You did?" He’d just come across her br**sts, watching as it happened as though out of his body. That was something he’d thought he’d go his whole life without experiencing. And though he found it hard to believe, she looked as if she couldn’t be happier with him.

He shook his head again to clear it, then rose to toss the towel into the bathroom. When he returned, he leaned against the bedroom doorway and gazed down at her. She’d turned onto her side, and seemed half-asleep, but she raised her head to give him a drowsy smile. And something felt as though it shifted in his chest, twisting… aching.

Her sleek skirt was bunched at her waist, and her wisp of underwear had snagged on the fastening of her shoe. Seeing her like this, so soft and relaxed, made his chest hurt again. Frowning, he rubbed the palm of his hand hard against it.

When she murmured his name and rounded her back as if coaxing him to lie behind her, his eyes widened. He returned at once, sitting beside her. Yes, he would sleep with her. He yanked off his boots and pulled his shirt over his head, then reached up and closed all of the curtains.

He knew she would set out as soon as they landed – but for now, he planned to enjoy every aspect of being with his woman, including undressing her for bed.

He tugged the underwear free, removed her shoes, then unzipped and removed her skirt. When he lay behind her, pulling the blanket over them, he could have sworn she mumbled something about a cake.

After drawing her into his arms, he buried his face in her hair and squeezed her. He’d gone from famine to feast – no middle ground. He’d gone from having no one to call his own to having a fantasy here in his arms.

He could win her. He would win her after tonight. He’d known he would be a good husband, a good father, but he’d wondered if he could satisfy her in bed. Now he felt confident he could, since she wasn’t shy about what pleased her. God, how she lets me know. He grinned against her, well aware that they slept on shredded sheets.