by Sylvia Day
“Every angel I’ve seen has had a unique set of wings,” she murmured, torturing him with her gentle petting. “Jason’s are dark. Damien’s are gray. There are some similarities among the others, but no one has wings like yours. The touch of red at the tips . . . Gorgeous. Does it signify anything? Or are wing patterns randomly individual, like fingerprints?”
“The stain appeared when I severed the wings from Syre. I was the first to spill the blood of an angel.”
“The first ever?”
“Yes.”
Lindsay touched the nape of his neck, then slid her fingertips between his wings down the length of his spine. His back arched with a serrated groan, his body trembling.
“Is this—?” She cleared her throat. “Is this erotic to you?”
Reaching behind him, Adrian caught her right hand. He pulled it beneath his wings and around to his front. She was forced to step closer, her breath near enough to sink through the down to his skin beneath. He wrapped her fingers around the rigid length of his cock.
She made a soft sound, one he recognized as a cry of vulnerability. Ruthless, he pressed his advantage, stripping the pants from his body with a terse thought and pressing her palm against his bare flesh.
There was a moment of breathless stillness. He waited for her to jerk away or take over.
Her voice, when it came, was quiet. “You did that with the shotgun, too, didn’t you? You took it from the vampire and sent it to me. You did it with the straw in the airport. You can move things, just by wanting to.”
“Yes.”
Her hand closed around him.
His arms fell to his sides, his fists clenching. The clean scent of her body and the rich undertone of her arousal permeated his senses. Lindsay was intoxicating—certain to be addicting.
“You’re burning hot,” she whispered.
“You make me that way.” His blood had gone cold the moment he’d learned of Phineas’s death. It had turned to ice when Lindsay had collapsed to the ground with blood splattered all over her. It wasn’t until now, under the heat of her touch, that he finally felt . . . human again.
She fisted him at the root, then stroked to tip. “And big. God, you’re so thick and long. I want this. I want you. So badly. From the moment I first saw you.”
“Take me.” His voice was a rasp.
“I can’t.”
His jaw clenched. She had every right to be afraid. She was smart to be. It was only going to get more difficult from here.
Lindsay pumped him again, harder. Then again.
“Yes,” he growled, thrusting into her hand. “Jack me off. Make me come.”
“Jesus . . .” She released him.
Adrian shook with his hunger. He needed her touch. Two hundred years without it had left him dead in all the most fundamental ways. Now every sense and nerve ending was alive again, and desperate for her.
She came into view, rounding his right wings.
He stood there, exposed in every way.
Her gaze locked with his. “Tell me the truth, angel. Is this just you and me? Or is this you, me, and a motive I haven’t figured out yet?”
“Just you and me.” His chest tightened with the half-truth. In reality, everything stood between them. His mission, her father, the rules that would deny him the solace of Lindsay’s body . . .
Tell me the truth, angel.
He choked on the truth. It wrapped around his throat and squeezed so tightly he could barely breathe, let alone give her the disclosure she deserved. I’m going to pit you against your own people. I’m going to train you how to kill your father. I’m going to send your soul from this earth once and for all. My love will destroy you, and me, and everything we care about. I can’t stop it.
She slid her recovering left arm around his waist, tucked beneath his wings. Her right hand reached for him again. His breath hissed out between his teeth.
She stroked him firmly. His wings trembled as lust surged through him. The next pump of her fist was so perfect it was painful.
“Faster.” He gasped, pulling her closer with an arm around her shoulder.
Lindsay widened her stance, stabilizing herself with her arm at his waist. She faced him directly, standing perpendicular to his body. He was seared by her proximity. The side of his torso was tucked between her breasts, while her thighs were planted on either side of his. Anchored, she used the leverage she’d gained to fist his aching cock with greater power and speed.
Adrian’s head fell back in supplication. His wings lifted and curved around them, sheltering their precious intimacy.
All the while her hand moved on him, her grip strong and the tempo steady. His chest lifted and fell with rapid, heaving breaths. Her breath, too, came quick and hot, gusting over his chest. Her nipples were hard and tight against him, her hips moving in quick, needy little circles. He pressed his lips to her forehead, his eyes stinging.
“You get thicker before you come,” she breathed. “And harder.”
Her hand flew as she worked him, pumping him, her speed preternaturally quick—and just what he needed. Two centuries of pent-up desire demanded release now. Then he could seduce her properly. He would lure her into his bed, where he could wrap himself around her and pretend that nothing and no one existed but the two of them. No consequences, no deception, no inevitable and eternal parting.
“Yes,” he panted against her perspiration-damp forehead. “I’m almost there . . .”
Need coiled around his spine and pooled like molten iron at the base of his cock.
Ever his temptation, she coaxed him with a voice made husky by her own desire. “Show me. Come for me, Adrian. Come hard.”
“Keep touching me . . . don’t stop.”
“I won’t. I can’t. Let me see you—”
His entire body jerked with the first wrenching spurt. “Lindsay.”
She made a soft sound of hunger as he shuddered through the explosive climax, her arm tireless as she brought him off with the dedication of a woman who wanted nothing more than to pleasure him.
I love you. The words clawed their way up from the depths of his soul, threatening to escape.
Unable to stem the rush of feeling, Adrian smothered the truth with the softness of her mouth.
Lindsay’s knees buckled the instant Adrian’s mouth sealed over hers.
He turned in her embrace, cupping her face with gentle hands. As ferociously lustful as he’d been while desperate for orgasm, he was devastating with his tenderness now. His lips were light against hers, his tongue a velvet lash. She caught his wrists, so lost to the scent and taste of him that she didn’t realize they were moving until her back came up against a wall.
“Thank you,” he whispered, before licking into her mouth.
A low whimper escaped her. He moved his head slowly, from side to side, sliding his parted lips back and forth across hers. His fingers pushed into her hair and kneaded her scalp. Heated delight coursed through her, permeating her overeager body and soothing her frantic desire. Growing languid under the surprisingly delicate onslaught of his mouth, she reached for his lean hips, pulling him closer.
“Stay out of my head,” she warned.
“It’s not your head I want to get into right now.”
The feel of his cock against her belly, still hard as steel, made her breath catch. Adrian breathed into her mouth, filling her lungs with air from his own. The intimacy was more potent than his fingers sliding down and across her shoulders, pushing aside the thin straps of her camisole. Her back arched, offering her breasts.
In her mind, she knew it was wrong to be this way with Adrian. She knew she had to stop, that she had to make him stop. Her hands fell away, her palms pressing flat against the wall. But the feel of his touch on her bare skin, his fingertips following the line of her waistband before slipping beneath her top, was sublime . . . so perfect . . .
She gasped out a laugh, her stomach concaving to flee his questing fingers.
His beautif
ul lips curved against her mouth. “You’re ticklish.”
Adrian’s delight was palpable, reverberating through her and shaking her resolve. He gripped her waist and tugged her into an exuberant embrace.
Oh god . . . she couldn’t take him like this. Sensual. Playful. His brilliant eyes no longer stormy but lit with joy—because of her. It was a level of intimacy she didn’t know, had never experienced in her previous brief sexual encounters. She hadn’t known what she was missing . . .
“Adrian.”
“Hmm . . . ?” He kissed her temple, then moved lower, to her ear. “Where else are you ticklish, Linds?”
“We—” The flick of his tongue along the shell of her ear made her shiver. Her hands fisted. “W-we shouldn’t be doing this.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” he purred, cupping her swollen, tender breasts.
A low moan escaped her. She turned her face toward the wall of windows beside them. The sun was shining brightly, sparkling through the rain droplets clinging to the glass—a reflection of his mood and how she’d lightened it.
He caught her nipples between thumb and forefinger, tugging lightly. “Such tiny, delicate nipples for such lush breasts. I’m going to tongue them until you come.”
Her hips thrust forward without her volition, her sex clenching in greedy demand. “For a virgin”—she gasped—“you’re damn good at seduction.”
Adrian paused, his cerulean eyes glittering with amusement. “You think I’m virginal?”
“Are you saying you’ve done this before?” Jealousy ate at her, cooling her blood. “I thought you’d grow fangs if you got some.”
His mouth curved in a purely male smile. “There’s only you, neshama. You alone bring out this side of me.”
She had no idea what he’d just called her, but it struck a deep chord with her, and the way his voice sounded when he said it gave her butterflies. “Adrian . . . Shit. I’m going to burn in hell for this.”
“For leaning against a wall?” He licked erotically into her ear. “No, you won’t.”
“I’m trying to do the right thing,” she protested, even as she couldn’t seem to find the will to push him away. Not when one of his wickedly talented hands was sliding into her pants while the other was pushing up her camisole and baring her chest.
“This was inevitable. We are inevitable.” His gaze lifted to look into her dazed eyes. “You know it.”
“Why aren’t you afraid?”
“I’m more afraid of not having you than of paying for the privilege.” He cupped her possessively through the lace of her thong.
Her head fell back, all resistance leaving her as his finger teased along the sensitive crease of her thigh where skin met the edge of lace. There was a vibrating anxiety inside her, a piercing hunger and longing that scared her more than the ramifications of what they were doing. The steamy sensuality that clung to him enveloped her, stoking her desire until she couldn’t think for wanting him. She wanted his touch so badly—craved it.
Adrian supported her spine in the cradle of one large hand and arched her toward him. She held her breath, waiting. He blew a cool stream of air over her puckered nipple, and the light constriction of her thong disappeared along with the garment itself. His hot, wet tongue stroked across her at the same moment his fingertips parted her and stroked across her clitoris. She shuddered violently and cried out, so damn turned on she thought she might combust. She was feverish, damp with sweat and the slickness of her arousal.
He gave a rumbling sound of approval. “Soft and wet. And waxed. Nothing to get in the way while I eat you for hours.”
Not wax. Laser. But why argue? He liked it. And she liked that he liked it. She also liked the feel of his feather-light touch circling the trembling entrance to her body, and his tongue fluttering over her hardened nipple. She liked the way his wings curved nearly to the wall, forming a shield of white that made her feel safe and protected. Cherished.
Reaching up, Lindsay ran her hands through the thick strands of his black hair. She lifted one leg and slung it around his hip, opening herself further. “Touch me,” she gasped, writhing as his cheeks hollowed with a quick tug on her breast.
“I am.” His breath gusted warmly over the cooling wetness left from his mouth.
She growled.
Two long, elegant fingers pushed inside her. “Is this what you want?”
Pulling herself up with a grip at his nape, she took his mouth, ravishing it; then she nipped along his jaw down to his throat. Her lips parted over his throbbing pulse, her tongue stroking over it, plumping the thick vein. Then she raked her teeth across it.
He groaned, catching her with an arm around her back. “You’re so fucking hot. You’re driving me insane.”
Her hips pumped and circled, riding his fingers. She tossed his words back at him. “Get me off. Make me come.”
Adrian’s mouth slanted across hers. His thumb pressed against her throbbing clitoris, massaging it with every plunge of his fingers. She sobbed her pleasure into his mouth, her short nails digging into the rock-hard muscles of his shoulders. He caught her tongue and sucked on it, making her sex clench hard on his working hand.
The silky soft stroke of his chest hair across her aching nipples was killing her, finishing the job begun by his tenderness. Everything about the way he touched her was reverent. Worshipful. Even in the midst of the rawest sexual encounter she’d ever had, she felt like it was all about her. About being with her in every intimate way possible.
The orgasm hit her like lightning. She quaked in his arms, climaxing violently, the delicate tissues of her sex rippling along wickedly knowledgeable fingers that curved and rubbed in a way that kept her coming.
Lindsay could only hold on to him, tears squeezing past tightly closed eyelids. Her panting breaths exchanged with his. All the while he kissed her as if he’d die if he didn’t.
She’d barely stopped shaking when his fingers left her and she was lifted against him—naked, her clothes gone the way of his . . . wherever that was. Entwined, they spun in a controlled rush; then the cool surface of the dining table was beneath her buttocks and she was reaching back, propping her torso up with her arms canted behind her. Adrian pushed her knee aside with one hand and took his cock in hand with the other. The broad crown was tucked against her.
His eyes, shimmering with raging blue flames, stared into hers. “I’ve been starving for you, neshama sheli.”
She’d barely sucked in the shaky breath required to ask him what he said when he began the hot, hard slide into her, pushing her to lie back, blanketing her with the scorching heat of his body. Writhing to accommodate him, she gripped his hips, trying to slow the relentless stretching impalement.
“Jesus—” She gasped, her back arching. “Why the hell are you built like a porn star if you’re not allowed to have sex!”
His laugh swept over her, leaving goose bumps in its wake. It was such a rich, deep sound—infinitely beautiful and soul stirring. Her heart swelled as if she lived and breathed to hear that sound from him.
He sank to the root, touching the end of her. His wings extended and flexed luxuriously, reminding her of the sensual stretching of a well-fed feline. Their eyes met and held; so did their breaths. He cupped her face in that breathless moment, staring at her in a way that melted her.
“Ani ohev otach, Lindsay,” he whispered, before taking her mouth and filling her burning lungs with his exhalation. He rotated his hips, sinking a fraction deeper. She swore she felt every inch—every ridged vein and every beat of his pounding heart.
She held his nape with one hand, licking across his lips, shaken by the absolute surety that she was right where she’d always longed to be and hadn’t known it. “Adrian, I—”
The sound of resonating chimes froze her. And him.
They clung to each other, breathing hard, his penis a thick, throbbing presence inside her. The full import of what she was doing and who she was doing it with hit her like a delu
ge of ice water.
The sound came again, followed by a brusque knocking. A damn doorbell.
She gasped a sound of relief, then whimpered as Adrian began to withdraw. His gaze never left her as he pulled out with aching slowness and a tightly clenched jaw. The moment he fell heavily from her body, she scrambled from the table and ran to her bedroom.
He redressed her in her pajamas before she slammed the door shut, but nothing so simple as clothes could make her feel less raw and exposed.
CHAPTER 13
Adrian pushed shaking hands through his hair to straighten it before looking into the oval foyer mirror. Although the sleeveless Asian-style tunic he’d summoned fell to his midthigh and hid his erection, his flushed face and bright eyes, along with lips swollen by Lindsay’s fervency, betrayed his mortal weakness.
He stared at his reflection, regulating his breathing and willing his countenance into the tight, austere lines he was expected to present. He tucked his wings away, knowing they’d betray his roiling emotions as surely as his gaze did.
The bell rang a third time, followed by another round of knocking. He yanked on the levered handle of one of the double doors, then walked away as the door began its automated glide back into a locked position. As he crossed the room, he mentally crushed some of the most fragrant flowers in the massive floral arrangements scattered about the vast suite. The cloying scents couldn’t hide the lush smell of sex from the powerful nostrils of an angel, but at least he could show respect by making the effort.
“Captain,” Jason greeted him in a slow, knowing drawl.
“You have news for me?” He went into the kitchen and washed his hands, rinsing away the now beloved smell of Lindsay’s desire. His blood still raged from the remembered feel of her body’s tight hot clasp. That bright moment of connection would have shattered him if she hadn’t made him laugh, which he hadn’t done in so long he couldn’t recall the last time. He’d forgotten how potent their affinity was. He couldn’t remember it ever scorching him so completely. He felt as if he’d been run through a forge, heated until he was molten, then refashioned into something new and untarnished.