Wicked Deeds on a Winter’s Night (Immortals After Dark #4)(35)
Author: Kresley Cole

She’d been a gentle fey of royal blood and good family, and marrying her would have brought about a valuable alliance between her kind and his. Elegant Mariah had chosen him to take care of her. Out of all her royal suitors – and there were many – she’d chosen him to marry. She would’ve been a good mate and a caring mother.

He frowned. Except that she’d told him she hadn’t wanted to have children. No matter how long he’d always looked forward to a family.

But then she hadn’t been a bloody witch either.

Bowe turned to his side away from Mariketa. This confusion wasn’t as racking as the constant guilt, but at least with the guilt he’d known where he stood.

He heard Mariketa stirring and recognized that her desire was building once more. She eased to her side, then over again. Oh, bloody hell, she was not furtively grazing those sensitive br**sts of hers. She hurt for what he would gladly kill to give her.

He palmed his shaft through his jeans yet again, hissing in an agonized breath. One hundred and eighty years had passed since he’d been brought to come by another. Not ten feet from him, a trembling bundle of lust in the form of a fantasy lay aching for a male’s touch.

How much more could he take?

23

Overstimulation.

Being on the cusp of immortality left a lot to be desired. Literally.

Mari hadn’t had a pocket rocket in her bag for no reason. She’d needed the thrice-daily release it provided like an ailing person needed medicine – she might as well have had a prescription for it. And now she craved an orgasm so badly that she’d briefly considered using MacRieve.

How could she still be attracted to him after his admission? She tried to ignore the need. Think of other things.

She would not think about how firm his lips were or how unyielding his erection had been when it had rubbed against her ass.

She wondered if she could work this out for herself right now, without him hearing. Two quick strokes and she’d be done. At least for a couple of hours. Maybe he was already asleep –

"Gods, Mariketa, I need to touch you."

Not asleep. "Go to hell."

"You think I canna tell how much you need a male? You keep forgetting what I am."

"I know exactly what you are. And what you’re capable of."

He crossed to her so silently, she didn’t even know he’d moved until he lay beside her. "Let me help you."

"Any closer, MacRieve, and I’ll pin you to the ceiling and cackle at your expression like the witch that I am."

Her eyes must have changed, because he narrowed his. "This will only get worse. If you’re truly transitioning, I canna imagine how you must be feeling."

Pretty damned bad. And by bad she meant horny. The need was unrelenting – how she would ever get used to this she couldn’t imagine. She’d already been in love with sex even before she’d been on the verge of immortality and an eternity of superhuman lust.

And yet she hadn’t had it – in four years. The timing of her breakup with the demon Acton had been regrettable – right at the advent of the cloak years. When she hadn’t a chance in hell of attracting another lover.

Now she could enjoy sex once more. Now she yearned for this Lykae to stroke her.

"If you will no’ let me pleasure you, then pleasure yourself." She’d begun to notice that the more aroused he grew, the more pronounced his accent became.

"Maybe I just will – if you leave."

"I canna leave you, no’ alone in here. Just do it. We’ve established that you’re no’ shy."

He was so close that she could feel the heat of his body and smell his clean masculine scent. "I know your game. You think I’ll get so lost that when you reach out, I’ll welcome your touch – "

"I’d vow to the Lore that I would no’ touch you. It will give you what you need and me a chance to earn your trust. There’s no need for you to suffer just because you doona trust me."

"And what exactly would you be doing?"

"The same."

"Oh," she answered inanely. The idea of seeing him handling his thick erection until he came made rational thought leave her brain.

"I believe I’d go to my knees if I thought it would move you in this." His golden eyes were so intense when he gazed at her – as if there was nothing else in the world worth seeing. "Or I’d return the hand you gave me tonight." His voice husky, he said, "Mariketa, think of how good it will feel."

She couldn’t seem to take her eyes from his, even when she amazed herself by skimming her hand down her front to her panties.

His brows drew together. "Ah, you good lass," he rasped.

She swallowed. "You start."

His hand flew to his zipper. When he began pulling it down, the sound was surprisingly loud in the cave. He drew it open slowly as if he didn’t want to spook her from what they were about to do. Her breaths came quick once he grasped himself in his jeans.

Yet movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention away. A sizable cave spider crawled along his leg, but MacRieve was so absorbed in looking at her that he didn’t even notice.

Rising to her knees, she reached for it. He must have thought she was aiming for his groin because he hissed an oath, and his hands seized her waist. After letting the spider take hold of three of her fingers, she brought it forward, displaying it to him. MacRieve abruptly released her.

When she returned from relocating it outside and lay back down, his eyes were narrowed. "You were terrified of that scorpion in the tomb, but no’ of a spider the same size?"

"I’m not afraid of things like that anymore, not after I had insects crawling all over me… " In the dark, for weeks.

Her lips parted. What a timely reminder.

A bucket of cold water poured over her head couldn’t have awakened her more sharply from this sensual stupor. Making her tone biting, she said, "And actually, I think the incubi varied my steady diet of blood with some, so I’m accustomed. As a witch I’m supposed to have a connection with all low creatures like that anyway."

His face fell.

"You almost made me forget what you’re really like, Bowen the Bitter." She turned to her side, away from him. "But I’ll be on my guard now."

24

Mari woke the next morning as surly as a bear roused in winter. She felt uncomfortable in her own skin, exhausted from the surprising demands that thwarted desire placed on her body.

Blearily rubbing her eyes, she scanned the cave but didn’t see MacRieve. He’d gone, leaving behind fruit for her, which she regarded with a glare. Fruit was not her breakfast mainstay. She wasn’t a coffee drinker, but she was an Eggo eater, and she hadn’t had a single waffle in weeks.

He’d also left a change of clothes for her and had already packed up everything but her hiking gear and her toiletries. Did he think to dress her now?