Wicked Nights (Angels of the Dark #1)(84)
Author: Gena Showalter

Yes. A word filled with hope. “Take it, then.”

He cupped under her arms, drew her up, parallel to his strong length, and rolled her over. He settled over her, pinned her.

“I want to take, as you said, but I need another kiss first.” He lowered his head and she lifted hers, and then their tongues were thrusting together.

Gentle…firm…hard…wild… The kiss spun out of control. He kneaded her br**sts and thrummed her ni**les, his skin was like a living flame. A heat so different than what burned inside of her. A heat that would seep all the way to her bones, torching the memory of the demon.

“Another,” he said, his mouth taking and giving, demanding and surrendering. Her nails scraped along the ridges of his spine, between his wings, and her hips arched as she sought closer, deeper contact. She was utterly consumed by this man, and all the happier for it.

“I love seeing you like this,” he admitted.

“Underneath you?”

“All mine.” He moved a hand between their bodies, between her legs. And oh, had he learned how to play her. He knew when to sink in slowly and when to increase his speed. He knew when she needed more…and more… “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Zacharel,” she said on a wispy catch of breath. “Please. All, everything.”

He stilled, a droplet of sweat winding down his temple. “You are never to beg me for anything, Anna.”

“Then you have to… I need…” She bit her lip and rubbed against him. “Please.”

He cupped her jaw and forced her to stare into his eyes. “Me, you need me.”

“Yes.” Always.

He rubbed the tips of their noses together and said, “Will you let me have you?”

“All, everything,” she repeated.

“Everything? Truly? Because I told myself I would not take you until I had your pledge to remain with me. Now, I do not deserve such a pledge.”

“Probably not, but I still give it.” She’d just realized how much she loved him. Like she would really let him go. Yes, she’d once thought to leave him before he could leave her, but that was living in fear, and fear was as much a prison as the institution had been…and so much worse. “Can you pledge the same?”

He peered down at her with utter joy. “I can. I will. You are my first, last and only lover, Annabelle Miller. I will never take another.”

“Oh, Zacharel.” Had more beautiful words ever been spoken? “You are my last and only lover, too.”

“Now I make you mine.” Inch by decadent inch, he sank inside her, claiming her, branding her. When at last he was all the way in, he stilled, strain branching from the corners of his eyes. “I am… How could… Love this.”

“Hmmm,” she purred. “Yes.”

“You belong to me,” he said.

“To you.”

“No other.”

“No other,” she agreed.

His lips found hers, their tongues meeting in a tangled clash. His hands rediscovered her br**sts, kneading.

“You feel so good.”

“Yes, but…”

“More?”

“Please.”

“Like this?” He moved slowly at first.

“Yes, please, yes, exactly like that.”

He moved faster. Faster still. Finally, all she could do was wrap her legs around his waist and hold on. He chanted her name over and over, a prayer, a curse, a mooooan he couldn’t quite contain. She groaned with her pleasure. Every moment, every movement, was perfect, utterly soul changing.

“Anna…I’m going to…have to…”

“Give me everything.”

A roar left him, his entire body bowing. He hit her as deep as he could possibly go, so wonderfully deep, and yet she still arched up and tried to take him deeper. As he shuddered with completion, satisfaction found her and she cried out, holding him tight…holding on forever.

Even minutes later, when he fell upon her, heavy and lax, she refused to let go. When he rolled, he took her with him and she ended up sprawled on his chest.

“I have no words, Anna,” he said softly.

“Good.” She didn’t, either. All she knew was that she would never be the same. This would forever change her.

This would forever change him.

He placed a reverent kiss on her temple. “Perhaps I do have two words… Thank you.”

A soft laugh left her. Perhaps a little change was a good thing.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ZACHAREL MADE LOVE to Annabelle all through the night. He could not get enough of her. Would never get enough of her or the pleasure she gave him. He loved her br**sts, so perfectly lush and perfectly tipped. He loved her stomach, a soft hollow with a tempting navel. He loved her legs, their smooth expanse of wicked delights.

He loved everything in between.

He loved the sounds she made, the way she moved, the softness and sweetness and the passion he experienced with her. He loved what she did to him, hugging him, kissing him, making him feel as if he were the most precious thing on earth.

But what he loved most was being inside her, one with her. A part of her. Twined around her, their breath mingling. Yes, the physical sensations that came with that part had delighted him, but the mental…the emotional…were even better.

Love. He was the one who had never known its true meaning, he realized. It was not just a pretty word. Genuine love was a gift. Special. Necessary. A lesson his brother had tried to teach him, but one he had ignored. Until now.

Now…as Annabelle glowed with Zacharel’s essentia, a subtle light that seeped from her pores, as if the sun was living just under her skin. He loved that, too.

Mine, he thought. She is mine. I will not share her.

“If you can bear to take a break, you insatiable beast, there’s something I want to do,” she said, climbing from the bed for an endless, abhorrent moment.

She grabbed a pen from the desk before putting him out of his misery and straddling his hips. He propped his back against the pillows as satisfaction of a different sort consumed him. They were together, no matter what their bodies were doing. Something else he loved.

“By the way, this isn’t a hint for more,” she said. “Not this time.”

“Tease.” How she thrilled him, every aspect of her. A fall of blue-black hair around her shoulders, cheeks flushed and dewy. Ice-blue eyes sparkling, lips swollen from his kisses.

“Why did you need the pen?” he asked.