Until the Sun Falls from the Sky (The Three #1)(55)
Author: Kristen Ashley

Carefully, he pulled back the covers and put her in bed. Swiftly disrobing, he joined her there.

Then he did what he’d decided to do in the car on the way home. It would, he thought, make Leah infinitely more agreeable.

Not delaying, his hands sought her, one at her breast, the other went straight into her pajama bottoms. His mouth went to the skin on her neck below her ear and he tasted her with his tongue.

His fingers worked and she woke on a soft, low moan.

“Lucien?” she whispered, her voice sleepy and sweet and entirely unguarded.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

She drew in a breath, her body stilled then it bucked as if to get away.

He expected this, kept her where she was and continued to work her.

“Lucien!” she snapped, an edge to her voice he hadn’t heard before.

His hand at her breast moved up to her jaw, twisting her head as he lifted his own. He took her mouth in a kiss, his tongue sliding inside as his finger slid inside her.

God, she felt and tasted magnificent.

On that thought he decided, no matter the frustration, he’d not take another meal, or anything, outside of Leah for some time.

Maybe years.

To his surprise, her head reared back into the pillows in order to break their kiss.

It was rare she’d break a kiss. Very rare. She was usually as hungry as he was for that connection. Even more.

Her lips parted, her eyes were wide and he watched them flare with an intensity he’d never seen before from her which was also surprising. She didn’t mask her reactions and she was extraordinarily passionate.

“You’ve –” she started and he withdrew his finger, found her, exerted pressure and circled.

She stopped speaking, her face softened and her eyes grew dazed.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured, his mouth capturing hers, her head reared back again but she pushed her h*ps into his hand. He gave up on the kiss, opting for something more intimate. He moved his lips to her throat, sweeping his tongue against her skin then biting her there, a small wound opened but the blood didn’t flow.

He had to suck. Which he did.

She liked it as he knew she would.

He heard her moan and her body melted back into his. He drew the blood out of the small wound, heightening her arousal in measured, controlled increments. His hand went back to her breast, fingers rolling her nipple and her head fell back to his shoulder.

He knew she was his when she started bucking her hips, riding his hand.

He felt his c**k grow hard at her movements, his mind filled with visions of her riding him and, alternately and no less enjoyable, visions of him riding her.

He carefully opened the wound further and drew more deeply at her blood.

She gasped, her body tightening, he slid a finger inside then another one, both of them stroking deeply all the while his thumb circling her. Her h*ps were now moving in desperation, her breath coming in pants.

His tongue swathed her wound and he lifted his head to watch her face. He wanted to see her cl**ax.

It didn’t disappoint.

Her neck arched gracefully, her face flushed gorgeously, her eyes slowly closed and her lips parted in a silent moan as her hot, wet sheath closed around his fingers deep inside her.

God, she wasn’t just magnificent. She was so stunning he stopped breathing, feeling it in his gut, lungs and cock, watching her come.

He pushed her orgasm further with his thumb. Her fingers circled his wrist in protest then imprisoned it as she drew in another breath and the shudder tore through her.

He ceased his movements, cupping her breast in one hand, stopping his thumb but allowing himself to keep his fingers inside her with the other. She trembled once, again, then again, before she stilled, spent, her body leaning heavily against his.

He held her close, his face in the hair at the back of her head, listening to her racing heart as it settled and breathing her scent, letting it consume his senses.

After a while, his hand left her breast and curled around her stomach, pulling her closer as his fingers slowly slid out of her and he cupped her between her legs.

He lifted his head and touched his lips to the now-pink wound.

“How are you feeling, pet?” he murmured there.

She didn’t move or speak.

He lifted his head to look at her profile. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted slightly forward.

“Leah? Are you asleep?”

When she spoke, she didn’t open her eyes and her voice was both very quiet and completely dead.

“You did that to me and I can smell her perfume on your skin.” His body froze and she kept talking. “And when you kissed me, I could taste her blood in my mouth.”

“Leah –”

She cut him off. “You forced me out of my home and my life. You’ve made me leave my friends and my job. During my initiation you caused me more pain than I’ve ever felt in my life. You’ve controlled my mind and my body. You’ve humiliated me. Today, you betrayed my trust. Tonight, you betrayed me.”

“Leah –”

“You win,” she whispered in her dead voice. “I can’t fight you, Lucien. You win.”

Remembering his oath to be patient with her, he rolled her to her back and got up on an elbow to get a better look at her.

“You don’t understand the way of my people, pet –”

He stopped speaking when she closed her eyes slowly in a gesture of defeat that seemed foul when done by Leah.

“Please give me one thing. Just one.” She opened her eyes and he was alarmed to see they were dead too. “Don’t call me pet and please, never, ever again call me sweetheart.”

“Leah –”

“May I go back to sleep?” she asked with genuine, not false, consideration.

In spite of his earlier vow, his temper was rising and with it the feeling he’d had when he saw her discarded lingerie.

“Leah, I’m within my rights to attend A Feast.”

She turned her head and looked over his shoulder. “I know you are. Of course you are,” she said wearily. “You’re within your rights to do anything.”

He decided to try a different tactic and his hand moved to cup her jaw.

Gently, he said, “I wanted to give you something tonight, sweetheart.”

When he uttered his endearment, she winced, her head jerking as if he’d struck her.

At this reaction, the strange, vile feeling was overtaking his temper and he didn’t like it. It felt like pain. Twisting, burning pain and it was magnifying quickly.

He lost hold of his patience but held tight to the anger. If he didn’t the pain would begin to be unbearable.