He moved away just long enough to put his glass on the table, before he began unbuttoning Briar's shirt, pulling it from the waist of his slacks. Remy put his lips to smooth hairless skin, watching as the muscles tensed and released, his sex pulsating against his pants, begging for release.
Briar's entire body felt as if it were singed with each kiss. When Remy's lips moved over his nipple, his teeth grazing the skin, he sucked in sharply, his hands slipping into the luxurious curls at Remy's nape, pulling him up so that Briar could capture his mouth.
Remy was vibrating with need, pushing the shirt off of Briar's arms, and then reaching for his belt. His abdomen flexed in anticipation and it excited Remy to no end. Slowly, he moved down, pushing the pants and underwear down as his mouth left a trail of heat down the center of Briar's chest, his fingers sinking into the soft thatch of moist curls in an even brighter hue of red than on his head. He knelt before him, his hand around the immense thickness that twitched excitedly in his palm. The stroke was slow at first, steady as silken beads of moisture appeared at the tip, coating his hand and making Briar's skin slick and hot.
He moaned a guttural sound that came from somewhere deep inside of him. When Remy took him into his mouth, Briar's knees buckled but he remained on his feet. The feel of Remy's tongue, the sleek heat of his mouth as he sucked him, he thrust forward, his body moving in a rhythm to match the pull and retreat of his mouth. Remy reached out, cupping the heavy weight of his balls in his hand, gently squeezing and his body came apart.
"Oh fuck me." He groaned, trying to keep himself from falling back. Remy reached around, holding his ass, his fingers digging into the tense muscles as Briar bucked against him. He grabbed a fist full of dark curls, holding Remy's head still as his hips moved faster, pushing into the wonderful pressure of Remy's sweet mouth. He held tight, moving faster, pulling harder until Briar exploded into his mouth. He continued to draw, milking the big man who was still, every muscles straining as his organism took him, all six foot three, two hundred and sixty pounds of him, to his knees.
He sank onto the sapphire rug, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. Remy sat up, pulling Briar's boots off so that he could undress him completely; he wanted to see him in all his massive, rippling muscled glory. He wanted to stare at the beauty of Briar's taut, tawny, skin against the deep blue of the rug. He was beautiful, so big, and so wonderful. His arms were the size of Remy's thighs, his thighs like tree trunks. Except for the soft neatly trimmed pelt of hair of this crotch, he was sleek, hairless. Remy watched him, his arm thrown across those emerald dazzlers he called eyes, his mouth open as he sucked in great gulps of air.
"Shit," he whispered, peeping at Remy from beneath his arm. "I was hoping I could last a little longer than that, but you and that fucking mouth ... you do it to me every time," he said in his rolling brogue.
"Oh you're giving up already?" Remy teased, rising to slip out of his pants. He was hard, his erection pointing straight up, swollen to the point of pain.
Briar lifted himself on his elbows, watching Remy with a focused intensity that would make anyone else nervous. Remy lifted his hand to his mouth. He licked his palm, his tongue languidly moistening his palm before he began to stroke himself. His hand moved slowly, his eyes on Briar who watched silently until his own body sparked back to life. He sat up, his back resting on the cool leather of the sofa, his knees drawn up.
"Do you want it?" Remy asked. Briar nodded. He came closer, straddling Briar until his sex bobbing near Briar's face. He continued stroking, looking down at the red head, his bottom lips caught between his teeth. Instead of reaching for what was so close and aching to be touched, Briar pulled him down so that he was sitting across his chest.
He ran one beefy finger over Remy's kiss swollen lips before slipping into his mouth. Obediently, Remy sucked pulling in the digit, his tongue looping and dancing against hard calloused skin. The finger was replaced by Briar's tongue, dipping into to tease him.
"Stand up, I want to suck you," he said in a low voice. Remy rose, sliding easily into the sweet mouth, his body shivering. He closed his eyes thrusting slowly into that sweet mouth that always tasted of strawberries and cherries and such wonderful beautiful things. He moaned, placing a hand on one beefy shoulder, his hips moving back and forth slowly. Briar's hands cupped his ass, separating toned cheeks, his fingers teasing, slowly moving around him in gentle circles until one finger moved inside of him. Remy leaned forward, his body arching as he pushed back, wanting more. Briar continued to lick, his tongue teasing the head of his cock. Remy pushed forward, straining to keep his body in check as another thick finger entered him. He groaned, every nerve exploding with such pleasure that he could make no sound.
"I want to taste you," Briar said, shifting and Remy found himself on his knees bent over the sofa. He grasped the cushions, his breath coming in harsh bursts when the first stroke of Briar's tongue touched him. He moaned, his face pressed to the cool leather.
Briar ran his tongue from the small of Remy's back, down the crack of his perfect ass, not stopping until his lips closed around the tender weights beneath his sex. His sucked gently, his mouth so hot that Remy felt himself dripping, his sex wet with his own moisture and he had to pull away for a moment to collect himself.
"Stop, you're going to make me come, B," he whispered.
"That's the point, baby," Briar teased, his teeth grazing the flesh at Remy's hip. He chuckled then returned to his delicious torture. His tongue teased, slipping into Remy's tightness, tasting him, his hand stroking his erection until the only sound Remy could make were helpless whimpers. He pulled back, rubbing the tip of his erection against Remy's ass; he rocked, loving the feel of the friction. He held Remy's hips, pulling him against him as he did.
"You want me to fuck you, baby?” He whispered next to Remy's ear.
"Yes," he whispered.
"Say it." He pressed the tip of himself against his hole, and Remy pushed back, rubbing against him.
"I want you to fuck me," Remy said, looking back at him, his arms shaking. Briar held himself, still, slowly easing the tip into Remy's tightness, his body drenched with sweat as he kept himself from plunging into him. He paused and Remy pushed back, loving the feel of Briar's thickness, heavy inside of him. Briar closed his eyes, feeling Remy’s muscles clenched around him, drawing him in so deep that he felt himself ready to come.
"Son of a bitch," he cursed, holding Remy's hips still. "You're going to make me come," he breathed.
"That's the point, baby." Remy teased, mocking Briar's heavy accent and was rewarded for his effort. Briar pulled back until he only the very tip of him was inside, then pushed forward, deep and smooth and Remy groaned his approval. He gripped the sofa again, his nails digging into the leather as Briar's hips moved, pushing in drawing out, the rush of heat and pleasure hitting him in waves. Briar continued, his body rocking against Remy.
"You feel so good, B," Remy coaxed, leaning back to capture Briar's mouth. "I miss you so much, baby. Oh god, oh shit, don't stop. Just like that, just like that." Sweat dripped from Briar's brow as he pumped, his hips undulating like a piston, faster and faster, his breath catching in his chest. He leaned forward, his arms on either side of Remy's face as he drove harder and faster.
"Come for me, Remy," Briar said. "Come for me, oh please, let me hear it." He took Remy's earlobe between his teeth, just applying enough pressure to pinch but not break the skin. Remy groaned, loving the gruffness of Briar's voice his heavy body pressed, hot and wet to his own. To help him along, Briar reached down and grasped Remy's sex in his hand and began to stroke, the rhythm of his hand matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Then his teeth sank into the tender skin just above Remy's shoulder and it was all over.
Remy felt himself rolling over the edge, his body on fire, every nerve singing as he came hard in Briar's hand. He vaguely recalled hearing his big man follow, only felt the wonderful sensation of every bone in his body melting away to noth
ing then slowly coming back together.
Briar collapsed onto him, his breathing labored against Remy's shoulder, his lips brushing Remy's slick skin. Every few seconds his big body was rocked by an aftershock, then settled. They stayed that way for a while, still, sweaty, clinging together in the afterglow. Remy smiled, loving the feel of the gentle giant on him, the pressure of his massive body covering him, his arms around Remy's waist. He sighed, his eyes drifting shut. In his way, he loved this big man.
After what felt like hours, Briar rose and stumbled towards the kitchenette where he downed four bottles of water in quick succession, before returning with one for Remy. He took it, sipping slowly, his eyes on Briar's too sweet face.
"I was thinking," he started not knowing where this was coming from, but he was going to say it. He was going to suggest that they go public with their relationship. But Briar put up a hand up before he could get it out.
"No," he said. "It would be a disaster. I love being with you. You are one of the best people I know. But if this got out, it would be a problem. Not just for you, but for me. How would it look a soldier dating the brother of the Commander?" Remy nodded.
It wasn't like people didn't suspect, but to actually know that he was sleeping with a subordinate could get him court martialed or worse. It could get Briar kicked out of the Grey; as much as he cared for the kid and wanted to be with him, he was right. It was better to keep what they shared between them, just them.
"Besides," Briar said, nudging Remy's shoulder. “You like the lassies way too much to stick with just me."
"But I like you the best," he said, realizing just how much he meant that. He did like Briar the best. He was such a gentle man, so sweet and good natured, he made Remy laugh, which was something only a few had been able to do. And most of all Remy trusted Briar implicitly. Of all of the people he knew, there were only two names on that particular list. Celeste was the other.
"For now. But I saw the wee redhead they brought in. How long before you dip your wick into that fire?" Remy thought about that for a moment. She was cute with flame red hair and a sweet little face, but he got the distinct impression that she was trouble. It was something about the way she smiled when Celeste had cold cocked Karim. And she was a demon after all, a skittish bunch at best. There were only a handful he knew of that were remotely trustworthy. He would not risk it, no matter what people thought, he did not think with his dick. Well, not always.
"It's not all red heads," he said, his eyes roaming over Briar's sweat slicked body, goose flesh rising on naked skin. He ran a hand over the corded muscle of his thigh, his finger tracing little patterns as it dipped closer to his pelvic bone.
"That's why you liked me," Briar teased, watching Remy's long fingers move with a degree of interest. Remy's hand dipped, and Briar's skin tightened, everything in him hard and hot and wet. The cool feel of skin on skin made him shiver, but he liked it. He moved closer, brushing his lips along Remy's collar bone.
"Not just that." Remy looked at him, his warm tobacco brown eyes softened and he smiled. "You are so much more than that to me." He leaned forward, his lips brushing Briar's in the sweetest kiss. "So much more, love."
***
Celeste poured herself another drink before easing onto the sofa, waving her hand at him to speak. Karim eased onto the sofa beside her, his hand slowly caressing her back through the silk of her shirt.
"I'm so sorry, Calie, for whatever I did. I didn't know," he whispered, resting his chin on her shoulder.
She didn't like him being that close and feeling that familiar after all of this time. He acted as if nothing had happened, as if they had a little spat over some insignificant issue. Not that he had sold her. He fucking sold her like a rug or a car. She could rip his throat out with her bare hands, but she didn't want to soil her pristine white furniture.
Instead, she stood, putting space between the two of them; the glass clutched so tightly in her hand, her knuckles had turned red. She swallowed the amber liquid, feeling the burn in her chest.
"Tell me what happened," he said, his hand dropping to his lap at her retreat.
"No. Absolutely not. I will not discuss that with you. And you have no fucking right to ask." She stared at the empty glass in her hand.
"I need another drink." She marched toward the bar on the far side of the room and poured herself a glass of Evan Williams' 23 year old collection over ice.
Karim's brows rose at the sight of the expensive bourbon, it cost over three hundred dollars a bottle and she seemed to be stocked with at least five. Not to mention the bottle of the Jack Daniel's Macallan Fine & Rare Collection worth over ten thousand dollars. He took in the expensive decor, the designer rugs and original artwork. He looked past her to the open doors of her bedroom, and swallowed hard. The bed was white quilted leather, the duvet fluffy white with gold trim, pillows piled high. It looked as if it filled the room and all he could picture was her naked caramel skin against the white of the sheets.
After all of these centuries, he wanted her just as much, if not more than before. The years apart had done nothing to tame his want and it made his heart ache. He reluctantly turned his eyes toward her and the need tugged at him from somewhere deep inside.
She tugged at the top button of her shirt; freeing it and inhaling while pouring another drink. He turned to look at the bed again, and then his eyes drifted around the room, landing on anything other than her. He couldn't look at her without feeling his need pulling at him. He hadn't come here for that, he'd come to make amends. He hadn't expected the kick to the gut at being so near her. He continued looking around the suite, his face calm as he noted the lack of color here. This was not the Calie he knew, there was no reflection of her fire here. This wasn't her home.
***
She watched him scan the room and frowned. Draining her glass in one swallow, she poured another and wondered. The vampire clans had always remained neutral, never siding with the Dark Fae or the Collective, now all of a sudden they were eager to join one faction. And they had chosen Karim as their representative. Why?
"Why are you here?" She asked, turning to level him with a steady steely gaze, her tears dry. "Why did you come here, Karim?"
"Because you were so upset…"
"No," she bit, "Why are you here? With the Collective? Why of all of the vampires in the world are you the one being suggested as a new member? It is why you and that demon are here, right? The last I heard you were allied with no one, yet you show up here, out of the blue. I find it suspect that they sent you and that Lilith, so what is the plan Karim? I mean you don't do anything without a very strong reason. So what is it? Do the Vamps know something that we don't?"
He looked at her with those hypnotic eyes that always seem to cut right through her, his face as serene and sincere as she had ever seen it. He wore dark jeans and a white button up under a battered leather jacket. She stared at the hint of the tattoo peaking from beneath his collar, knowing that he had Persian artwork running from his neck, down his right shoulder and bicep. He'd had the tats since before she'd known him, remembering how she'd been fascinated by the vamp's body art.
"I don't have a plan. I never have a plan when it comes to you. Calie-"
“Don't call me that, don't you dare. Calie died a long time ago. "
He was suddenly standing before her, so close that she nearly stumbled backward.
She held her ground, meeting his gaze, her tone as cold as she could make it even as her body became wet and heat rose in her cheeks. She cursed her body for reacting to him, even after all he'd done.
"You will always be my Calie." He brushed a wisp of hair off of her face. "My sweet, sweet Calie." He leaned closer, his lips brushing hers in a whisper of a kiss and every part of her melted into him. He drew her closer, his arms encircling her waist, his body ready for more. She held her arms out, not letting herself hold him. She may not have control of much when he kissed her, but she refused to embrace him.
Hi
s fangs nipped her bottom lip, his tongue slipping into the warm burn of her bourbon soaked mouth. His hands moved to her lower back, pressing his hardened shaft into her. He ground into her, his hips working as his need grew. He held the back of her head, while his tongue dove deeper, a slow moan escaping him as memories of her taste came back to him. She dropped her arms, placing the empty hand on the waist of his jeans, her body relenting to the onslaught pulling him closer.
He took a step, then another, until she was pressed against the wall, his hips pumping as he drove against her, his sex straining against his jeans.
He could feel his own moisture against his skin and knew that if he did not stop this insanity, he would come in his pants. Yet, he continued, unable to stop, until his body begged for more. His hand cupped her breast through the silk of her top, feeling the lace of her bra beneath. She smelled of lavender and vanilla, tasted of bourbon and her own sweetness. He wanted to bite into that tender skin pulsating at her throat, to drink of her and mark her as his own.
Then he was gone, the air in front of her still smelling of him. She opened her eyes and saw him standing across the room, his eyes nearly white as he panted, his face flushed.
"I should go." His voice was rough, and he was avoiding her eyes.
She stared at him, trying to read him, but as with most preternaturals she couldn't get a clear fix on his thoughts. Not that she was very experienced with reading minds; it was a new gift that she had developed around the time she got the tattoo on her neck. Absently, she reached up to touch it and found it to be hot, searing her fingertips.
"I'm sorry." He stumbled backward, turning and practically running from the room. She was stunned still, unable to wrap her mind around what had just happened or how quickly it had ended.
She poured another drink with hands that trembled and swallowed it, wanting to burn away his taste. Damn, she hated how she reacted to him, hated the fact that she had succumbed to him, allowing herself to return his kiss. She could still feel him pressing into her, the soft noises she made when he thrust against her. The scent of him, sand and ocean, lingered on her skin. He had been back for less than an hour only to bring back a nightmare that she had just about put to bed, waking feelings that she had all but forgotten. She hated him. Growling from the torrent of emotion, she stared at the bar, the empty glass and bottle of bourbon waiting for her to make a move. Abandoning the glass, she grabbed the neck of the bottle and put it to her lips, drinking long and hard until it was empty.
Mark of the Fallen: A Fallen Novel Page 4