Chosen by Sin

by Virna DePaul

  “I don’t want soft here,” she breathed. “Never here.”

  He gave a bark of laughter. “That’s good. Because I can’t control something like that. Damn it, even though I know I shouldn’t be, I’m glad you sent for me. I look at you and I’m hard.”

  She smiled, pleased by his statement, and released him to relax back against the chaise. She extended her arms over her head. “Then look at me, Dex. Look at every single inch of me until you’re so hard you can’t think of anything or anyone else.”

  I’m already there, he thought, but didn’t say it. His hands returned to her clothing, this time unbuttoning and slipping and tugging rather than tearing. Even though he clenched his teeth so hard they should have cracked, he kept his touch gentle.

  When she was completely naked, he knelt back on his haunches and took her in. Abruptly, he scrambled off her until he stood at her feet.

  She lifted herself up on her elbows. “No! Where are you—”

  “Shhh,” he soothed. “I want to touch every inch of you, from your toes to the top of your head.” He gave her a devilish grin. “Think you can handle that?”

  Her eyes narrowed as she absorbed his challenge. Even so, she shook her head. “Je ne sais pas. I don’t know.”

  The honesty of her response had him scrambling on top of her again, bracing his weight on his hands and knees so he didn’t touch her but merely hovered over her, teasing both of them with his closeness. He brushed the lightest of butterfly kisses against each of her cheeks before sipping at her lips, lifting away when her tongue tried to tangle with his. “I think you can, Jes. I think you can handle anything I can give you.”

  He gave her another brief, close-mouthed kiss before moving off her. Once again, he stood at her feet. Bracing a knee on the chaise, he lifted the foot closest to him and kissed her big toe. He did the same to the next adorable digit, and then the next. Then he returned and nibbled each of the toes he’d kissed. Then returned again and licked them.

  When he sucked the first toe into his mouth, her leg jerked. He wrapped his fingers around her ankle to hold her in place. Suddenly, moving slow and touching softly didn’t seem to be as difficult as it once had.

  He’d never savored a female during sex, he realized. Not like this. He’d loved receiving and giving pleasure, of course, but he’d always dived right in, wanting it intense and hard, going for broke with everything he was worth. Even with Lucy, when he’d held back it had never been to relish the touch, sound and taste of her, but simply not to hurt or scare her.

  Now, even as he took care not to hurt or scare Jes, it became less about giving her what she needed and more about experiencing what he’d never had before. This wasn’t just about sex and physical pleasure or about using his knowledge to press where he needed for as long as he needed to get his partner to climax. Instead, it was about exploring every inch of something warm and beautiful and precious until he knew it even better than his own body. Just for the sheer joy it brought him.

  Joy. Contentment. Belonging. They weren’t words he’d ever thought of in conjunction with himself, but every time he was with Jes, they somehow managed to sneak into his subconscious. Unease poked at him, but he shoved it away, unwilling to stop what he was doing.

  He kissed and nibbled and licked his way up her smoothly toned calves until he reached her thighs. He tugged them further apart and stared at the feminine pink flesh glistening with the proof of her desire. As he watched, even more moisture pooled out of her, the cream dripping down her thighs and calling to him like a siren’s song.

  Soft, he thought again. Who knew soft could be so damn intoxicating?

  He curled his fingers into the cushions on either side of her thighs, grounding himself while he leaned in close, his face hovering just an inch over her soft curls; they were her natural color, a beautiful shade of silver that made him think of spun silk rather than a metal capable of killing his kind. He breathed in deep and heard her moan of mortification. She writhed and tangled her fingers in his hair, trying to push his face closer to her core. He resisted, shaking his head and growling until she released him. Her arms fell away and her hands clenched into fists.

  “Remember,” he said. “You asked for slow and soft. And that’s exactly how I’m going to give it to you.” He extended his tongue and lapped up the dribbles of juice that covered her thighs. Then slowly, softly, he laved his tongue through her wet cleft. Her hips jerked and arched upward, burying his face in her musky heat.

  He groaned and rubbed his face against her, covering himself with her arousal.

  “I can’t!” she said, her head thrashing against the cushion that even now he was struggling not to rip to shreds. “Mon dieu, I can’t stand it. Please.”

  “No,” he said. “I’m only halfway there. I want to suck your nipples. Don’t you want that, too?”

  She sobbed as he pushed a thick finger into her honeyed depths then circled her clit with his thumb. Again, he kept his touch gentle, not enough to give her the release she craved. “Don’t you?” he crooned.

  “Yes, please. Now!”

  He moved to obey, then caught sight of the scarred flesh on her arm. He remembered how she’d flinched away from his touch the last time they were together. “In a minute,” he said. “First…”

  He lifted her arm and started at her fingertips, lavishing them with the same attention that he’d given her toes. Then he smoothed his tongue over the scars trailing up her arm. Once again, she tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, half-aware that his voice sounded slurred. As if he was getting drunk on the taste of her. Instead of bothering him, the thought made him crave her more. If he was drunk, he didn’t have to think about the past or his revenge or even his duty to talk to the shape-shifters, despite their resistance. He could lose himself in this moment. Lose himself in her.

  “Dex, please,” she wailed. “S’il te plait. I’m going to come and I want you inside me when I do.”

  His gaze jerked to her face. Her breath was hitching, and sure enough she looked like she was about to come. Like she’d been pushed to the edge by him licking her fingers and arm. He swallowed loudly and suddenly couldn’t resist any longer. He shifted, pressed the head of his cock against her, then froze.

  Fuck! He wasn’t wearing a condom. He hung his head and groaned.

  “Quel est mauvais? What’s wrong?” She arched up, rubbing him with her folds, as if determined to get him inside her.

  Goddess, he wanted to be inside her!

  “I don’t have protection.”

  “Oh.” She went rigid for a second, then relaxed. “You can’t make me pregnant by coming in me now, Dex. I swear it.”

  She’d said the same thing to him in L.A. Then, he hadn’t taken any chances. Now, for some crazy reason, he was tempted to.

  To hell with it. Since he knew she couldn’t lie, he gave in to temptation. Flexing his hips, he pushed into her, and although his thrust might not have been soft, at least it was slow and steady.

  Her tight flesh resisted him, but for the first time, he felt the slick heat of a woman’s core on his bare flesh. Her muscles contracted and pulsed around his dick as if they didn’t know whether to keep him out or invite him in. He didn’t give her a choice. He pushed in, tunneling into her, penetrating her until he was locked deep, unable to go any further. Then he bent down and sucked one of her ruby nipples into this mouth.

  She screamed and started coming. He released her nipple with a loud pop and stared at her as her face contorted with her release. The tight clasp of her body embraced his dick like she’d never let it go, and he began thrusting, prolonging her pleasure while racing toward his.

  Forget soft. Even slow wasn’t an option anymore.

  He didn’t know how long he thrust or how many climaxes he gave her. Eventually, her release passed and she lay limply beneath him, her sated gaze locked with his. Her breasts jiggled and the wet sounds of their slapping flesh e
choed around them. Their combined scent invaded his pores and settled into his skin and hair until he knew he’d never be able to escape her. His arms trembled until he feared he wouldn’t be able to hold himself up. But he didn’t stop or slow down. Instead, he lowered himself fully on top of her, pressed their bodies so tightly together that nothing could come between them, wrapped his arms around her, and thrust inside her until the chaise shook and wobbled.

  He buried his face in her neck and realized that, once again, she hadn’t bitten him. But when she’d been lying passively beneath him, dazed with her release, he thought he’d seen—

  He shoved himself up to look at her, his dick swelling even more at the sight of her unsheathed fangs. “Oh yeah,” he muttered, even as he lowered his face and curled his tongue around first one fang, then the other.

  Her body jerked and her arms flew around him, suddenly no longer passive but demanding more. But she held back, turning her face away. “Dex,” she gasped. “Stop.”

  “You can drink my blood now without getting sick, can’t you?”

  She tucked her bottom lip behind those gorgeous fangs, saying nothing.

  He stopped thrusting his hips and instead swiveled them so his pubic bone ground against her clit. “Can’t you?”

  “Mon dieu,” she mewled. Her eyes fixated on his neck.

  “Do it, Jes. Take my blood.”

  “No. No, I can’t.”

  “Jes, look at me.”

  Her gaze flickered to his.

  “Make me come, Jes. Please. I need it. Bite me.”

  Her control shattered. He realized it one second before her fangs pierced his skin, flinging him into a pleasure that annihilated him, incinerating him as if he was a fireball and she was the sun. His balls tightened and he shouted as he exploded.

  He shot streams of come into her body, his body jerking with each burst as a long, drawn-out moan was pulled from him. She milked his cock, hugging him there just as tightly as she did with the arms she’d wrapped around his body, as if no part of her ever wanted to let him go.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Lying in Dex’s arms, Jess could no longer deny the truth.

  Having sex with him in L.A. had created a very real, biological connection between them.

  Having sex with him just now had only cemented it and confirmed what she’d suspected.

  Her wellbeing, her very future, now depended on him. Somehow, Dex being here—Dex being inside her again—had not only made her stronger, but his presence was doing the same for her baby.

  Drinking Raul’s blood hadn’t helped the way she’d expected.

  The purest human blood no longer nourished her.

  But Dex’s proximity and his possession of her did.

  She didn’t know why, but she knew without a doubt that the key to keeping their child healthy was to keep its father close.

  Reaching out, she caressed his cheek, sucking in a breath when his eyes immediately opened. He stared at her, his expression blank, the hazel of his irises nearly matching his hair. Even lying down, he vibrated with power and energy, and she immediately leaned toward him, wanting to absorb all that vitality inside her.

  “Were you lying to me when you said you couldn’t get pregnant?”

  She couldn’t say she was surprised by the question or the sudden rigidity in his body as reason returned to him. “No,” she said, almost wincing at the relief that flooded his expression before he wiped his expression clean again. If he only knew she couldn’t get pregnant because she was already pregnant.

  “We need to talk.” He swung his feet to the ground, stood, and gathered their clothes. He tossed her clothes to her then started getting dressed, watching her as she used her panties to wipe away the sticky come he’d left on her. Averting her gaze, she shoved her panties into her pants pocket and slipped on the pants.

  “What brought you to France?” she asked him. He was completely dressed now and still watching her as she struggled to get back into her shirt.

  He cocked a brow. “How do you know I didn’t come to see you?”

  Finally, she managed to get the damn shirt on and sat back down on the chaise. “Other than the fact that I had to send Cy to fetch you? I don’t think you were sightseeing. You’re here on a mission, aren’t you?”

  “I am. I was very much engrossed in my mission when Cy interrupted me. How familiar are you with shape-shifters?”

  She frowned. His question eerily echoed the question Mahone had asked her when she’d first talked to him on the phone. She told Dex the same thing she’d told Mahone. “Not very. They’re a hard race to track down, the most obvious reason being their ability to hide in plain sight. Why?”

  “I’m investigating what seems to be a high number of shape-shifter murders. These murders have been committed by other shape-shifters.”

  Jes blinked in surprise. “That’s unusual. They’re usually closely knit.”

  “Exactly. So what would cause a close-knit race to turn against its own?”

  Why was he was asking her? Because he really valued her opinion? Pleasure, this time wholly unrelated to her physical response to him, shimmered through her again. She scrambled for a response that would make sense. “What if individual shape-shifters were doing something immoral? Or dangerous to their own kind? People can justify almost anything if it’s under the guise of protecting themselves or others from a physical or even spiritual threat.”

  “That makes a lot of sense. But what is it that shape-shifters could be doing to warrant retaliation by their own kind, and why would they reject outside help so much they’d kill anyone who offered?”

  At what had to be a confused look on her face, he explained, “Before Cy found me, I ran into a triad of shape-shifters. My contact called them diregeants. They stonewalled me. Implied I should get back to the States, and fast. Right after that, my own contact tried to kill me. Coincidence? I don’t think so.”

  He spoke so matter-of-factly, as if unconcerned by the fact someone had tried to kill him, but Jes’s heart nearly stopped at the news.

  “I need to go. Tell Mahone what happened and figure out—”

  Now her heart did stop. She shot to her feet. “No! You can’t leave!” Her voice rang out, loud and desperate.

  Dex stared at her and she blushed.

  What was she doing, shouting at him like that?

  “I mean—I know a lot about shape-shifters. Nothing about the murders, per se, but I have a friend who is an Otherborn Ambassador. He tries to promote peace between Otherborn races. If you’re looking to meet with the shape-shifter leaders, he might be able to help.”

  Dex looked suspicious and well he should considering she was thinking of Bodin. Of course, she had no intention of telling Dex that, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t ask Bodin for the information or for help.

  “Is this person someone you trust?” Dex asked.

  “Yes. I’ve known him a long time. He’s trustworthy. But he’s sick right now. I’m not sure he’s in a state of mind to help.”

  “He’s sick.” Dex’s eyes rounded. “Shit. Are you talking about the shape-shifter you were treating when I arrived?”

  “No. But besides, what are the chances he knows anything? I mean, I don’t even know who he is.”

  “Did he say who shot him?”

  “I told you, I didn’t ask.”

  “Then his assailant could very well have been another shape-shifter, right?”

  “Maybe,” she said slowly. “But that’s a pretty big conclusion you’re drawing.”

  “I want to talk to him.”

  Whoa. He’d switched gears so fast her mind was spinning. She hadn’t even had a chance to tell him she was pregnant and he was already moving on to his mission. It was great he was no longer talking about leaving, but she knew he’d get back to the topic soon.

  Right now, he wanted to talk to her patient. With his mind on his mission, now was not the time to talk about the baby.

  Automatically, s
he shook her head. “Wait. No. T’es fou?”

  When he cocked a brow, she said, “It means, Are you crazy? He’s recovering from a critical wound. He needs rest.”

  “How much rest are you talking about?”

  “Days, at least.”

  Dex ran his hands through his hair in obvious frustration. “Damn it. In days, there could be several more killings. I’ll leave. Come back—”

  “No!” She fought to keep the desperation out of her voice.

  Dex put his hands on his hips. “You don’t seem keen on me leaving anytime soon. And that brings us right back to my initial questions, doesn’t it? This time, I want you to answer me, Jes. How’d you know I was in France, and why did you bring me here?”

  “If I tell you how I knew you were here, you’re not going to believe me!” she cried.

  “Try me.”

  “Fine.” The stress of the past few days—hell, the stress of a lifetime spent desperately clinging to love only to lose it over and over again—suddenly became too much for her. In her mind, Dex was pulling away and ready to walk out the door. All she knew was that she couldn’t let him leave her. Not like everyone else in her life had. Not this time.

  “I’m pregnant,” she said.

  ***

  Dex didn’t react for several seconds. When he did, it was only to turn pale. Finally, he repeated, “You’re pregnant.”

  Since she knew it wasn’t a question, just an echo of the shock she’d given him, Jes didn’t reply.

  He blinked several times. “You just said you couldn’t get pregnant.”

  Again, she said nothing and his expression darkened. “Because you are pregnant? And I’m to assume by the fact that you’re telling me this that, what, the baby’s—”

  “—yours,” she confirmed.

  “Bullshit,” he gritted out.

  “C’est vrai. It’s true.”

  He laughed. Out loud.

  Then grew completely quiet again.

  They stared at each other, as if each was daring the other to speak first.

  “You want to tell me how the fuck that’s even possible?” Dex asked softly.