by Sarah Piper
“The dark witch likes to play games?” he murmured, drawing circles on her clit, harder and faster as he slid deeper inside. “So does the vampire. Guess who’s going to win?”
“You’re… such an asshole,” she panted, still writhing at his touch, arching her hips back to draw him in deeper.
“This is true,” he admitted. “But one who makes you wet nevertheless.”
“I knew this was a terrible idea.”
That annoying hornet buzzed through his chest once more.
“Yes, you’re having a right terrible time of it, aren’t you?” He quickened the pace of his circling, his thrusting, pushing her closer to the breaking point.
Jacinda gripped the shelves so tightly her fingertips paled. “Go… go fuck yourself, Prince.”
“Fuck myself? That’s not where I saw this going at all.” Though it was almost physically painful to let her go, Gabriel was tired of her games. Her insults. He disentangled himself and took a step backward.
Bloody hell how he wanted to slide his fingers into his mouth, to taste her.
The scent alone was driving him mad.
Fuck.
Fuck.
She turned around to face him again, the fire in her eyes nearly as hot as the fire coursing through her blood. Through his blood.
He waited for her to speak. To break. To beg him for another touch.
This time, he wouldn’t deny her. Wouldn’t tease.
One word and he’d be on his knees in the broken glass, his tongue buried so deep in that pussy he wouldn’t even hear her begging for more. He’d give it to her anyway. More. More. More. Again and again and again until she came so hard, so many times, she’d need to be carried out of that cellar. Straight out of Obsidian and into his penthouse, where he’d tie her down and fuck her into the next life.
His cock bulged again.
Jacinda only gaped, incredulous. Feisty. Ready to spar, as always. Her whole body practically hummed with it.
But the witch folded her arms across her bare chest, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.
“Sorry,” he said in a tone that assured her he wasn’t. “Was there something else you needed? Help reaching the wine, perhaps? Damaged merchandise comes out of your tips, and that Bordeaux was a rare vintage.”
Despite the untamed desire surging in her eyes, the witch still wouldn’t bend.
Gabriel grabbed a dishtowel from a stack on a nearby shelf and wiped his fingers. A dick move—one that made his gut clench with revulsion at his own boundless capacity for assholery—but if he walked out of that cellar still wearing her on his skin, he wouldn’t be able to function. Wouldn’t even make it up the stairs before he marched right back down again, ripped off that thong, shoved her against the racks, and buried himself deep inside.
Hurt flickered in her eyes, but the fire burned it away fast. “Seriously? You’re just… leaving?”
“Unless you need me for something?” he repeated. Then, met only with raging silence, “Perhaps next time you’ll reconsider the prudence of playing games with a professional gambler. Oh, and Jacinda?” he tossed the towel into the puddle of wine at her feet. “Clean that up, or instead of mixing drinks you’ll be chasing rats.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hours later, pacing her apartment like a caged animal, Jaci was still pent up and overheated. Lust and anger simmered in her blood in equal parts, her whole body on fire from Gabriel’s filthy touch.
Bruises marked her thigh where he’d gripped her, a stark reminder of his strength. His ferocity. His wildness.
She despised what he’d done to her. Despised even more that she wanted him to do it again. Even after an ice-cold shower and a few stiff drinks, she still couldn’t erase the memory of his hands searing her skin. His mouth on her breasts. His fangs grazing her sensitive flesh as he drove his fingers maddeningly inside her again and again…
“Fucking asshole vampire!”
Hellfire tickled her palms, aching to burst free. Gabriel was lucky he’d left her alone tonight. If that motherfucker had come anywhere near her right now, she would’ve roasted him on sight.
Yeah. Sure you would’ve, girl.
Defeat tasted bitter on her tongue.
Curling her palms into fists, she willed the hell magic to abate and flopped onto the bed in resignation.
One and done? A polite roll in the sheets? Why had she said those things? Why had she spoken to him at all? The instant he’d put his hands on her, she should’ve just told him to stop. He’d given her the option, but nope. She just had to keep pushing those buttons.
And he just had to keep enticing her with that hot, filthy, mind-erasing mouth.
The only word you’ll be uttering when I’m through with you is more…
Jaci rolled over onto her stomach.
Punched the pillow.
Fisted the blankets.
Reminded herself of all the horrible things he’d confessed.
Reminded herself she was supposed to be figuring out how to steal the beating heart from his chest.
Reminded herself he’d kidnapped her. Forced her to work for him. Ordered her around like his personal servant.
And still, her pussy ached for him.
Flipping over onto her back again, she glared up at the ceiling, catching sight of the tiny red light that told her the all-seeing eye was still filming her every move.
Of course it was. Even if she’d wanted to take care of herself tonight, she couldn’t. Not without that cocky vampire watching her.
Watching her…
Wait. Now there was a thought to ignite a fresh fire in her belly.
And in his…
With a wicked grin—and most certainly a gleam in her eyes to match—she got herself situated on top of the blankets. Closed her eyes. Let out a deep, satisfying sigh.
And unleashed her beautiful revenge.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Why the fuck had Gabriel spent so many centuries despising witchcraft? A beautiful woman with a devious mind was infinitely more powerful than the darkest of hexes. Even stripped of her grimoires, this one—this wicked little temptress—had corrupted him like no magic could.
He sat at the desk in his study, laptop open, utterly transfixed at the images splashed across the screen.
The witch he detested more with each passing second now lie on the bed, unwrapping her bathrobe as if she were opening a gift, all for him.
With trembling hands, Gabriel sipped his bourbon. The sharp scent of the alcohol reminded him of the spilled wine in the cellar where he’d left her standing in the broken glass. Where he’d left her aching. Left her wound up and flushed and flustered beyond all hope of deliverance.
Yet as he’d turned his back and walked up the cellar stairs, Gabriel was the one who burned inside, blazing with guilt and desire both. The next time he saw Jacinda, she was flirting with some demon at the bar—one of Chernikov’s leftovers who’d surrendered to Rogozin.
The sight had stirred in him another kind of fire. A murderous kind.
A dozen times he thought to apologize in earnest—for leaving her in such a state, for the wretched things he said, for punishing her with coldness and cruelty all for the grievous sin of saying thank you—and a dozen times he talked himself out of it.
In the end, he’d only been punishing himself. Forcing himself to watch her work the bar for the remainder of the evening as every demon in the place eye-fucked her, flirted with her, touched her as if she belonged to them instead.
Fuck his brother’s diplomatic efforts. If one more demon laid so much as a passing glance on his witch, Gabriel was officially barring any hellspawn from the premises and obliterating any who dared to enter.
He took another sip of bourbon, desperately trying to steady himself.
Fucking pointless.
On the screen before him, he watched as Jacinda slid her arms from the robe. She wore nothing beneath it. Nothing but soft, beautiful bare skin. No corset
, no stockings, no thong.
The sheer, unobstructed sight of her nakedness made Gabriel’s balls ache.
One hand wrapped around his glass, he slid his other to his waistband, unbuckling his belt, unzipping. Deftly freeing his cock. Fisting it.
Fuck, it was a pale imitation to the heat of her touch. Another exercise in futility that only served to further enrage him.
With delicate fingers, Jacinda traced the contours of one breast, then the other, nipples rising at her gentle touch, bringing him right back to those heated moments in the wine cellar. The taste of her skin filled his mouth. The memory of sucking those pert nipples made his fangs burn.
She palmed her breast, just like he’d done, teasing and tugging. Her other hand trailed down to her belly, drawing slow, lazy patterns, and though he couldn’t hear her, he imagined a breathy moan tickling his ear.
Moonlight spilled across the bedroom, painting her skin in all the places he wanted to touch her. To kiss her. The witch’s own touch followed, drawing invisible lines he longed to retrace with his tongue.
Fingers tight around his glass, fist tight around his cock, Gabriel watched, panting like a starved beast as she slid her fingers down to the juncture of her thighs.
The sound of his own heartbeat thudded in his ears, teeth clenched tight as she dipped a finger inside, then drew back, lightly rubbing her clit. Her lips parted again, settling loose another imagined sigh that quickly cascaded into a moan, blood darkening her cheeks and chest just like it had in the cellar. And just like in the cellar, Gabriel knew when she was getting close. Her body was so responsive to every touch, and here she revealed its secrets and tells, one thrust, one dip, one soft circle at a time.
Jacinda’s hips undulated, her body writhing as she gave herself the very pleasure he’d denied her.
His cock fucking throbbed for her, but he wouldn’t give in.
The witch wanted him to touch himself, just as she was doing. Wanted him to break, knowing it was all because of her little games. Her little power play.
Gabriel was mere seconds away from giving her the victory.
Bloody hell, the woman called herself a witch, but what she was doing to him right now went beyond spellcraft. She was a damned demoness. A dark enchantress sent from the bowels of hell to ruin him. To burn him.
To grind his bones to dust, just as she’d threatened.
Gabriel’s knuckles turned white around the glass. He slammed back another swig of bourbon, but the burn of the alcohol did nothing to soothe the flames of desire.
The mere sight of Jacinda touching herself onscreen was enough to drive him to the fucking brink.
But the fact that she was doing it for him, because of him, knowing he’d be watching her, knowing he’d be hard and desperate and fucking powerless to stop her as she made herself come…
Her body arched suddenly off the bed, every muscle drawn tight, lips glistening, eyes closed, fingers working faster and faster and then…
Fuck…
The glass shattered in his hand.
Gabriel got to his feet. Shook the broken glass and bourbon from his fingers.
Whipped the leather belt from his pants.
And headed upstairs.
Time to teach my witch a lesson she won’t find in any spellbook…
Chapter Twenty-Four
The force of the orgasm was still coursing through Jaci’s body when the bedroom door slammed open, biting into the plaster wall behind it.
She sat up at once. Gabriel stood in the doorway, his body limned in light, pants undone, a leather belt clutched in his fist.
“Tell me to stop,” he demanded.
Despite the fact that she’d just given herself the best orgasm of her life, all thanks to fantasies about the vampire now glaring down at her, her whole body turned to molten jelly at his words.
Pride and sanity told her to do it—tell him to stop. Tell him to go fuck himself, just like she’d told him in the cellar.
To stick with her fucking plan.
But then his eyes roved her naked body, burning her skin as if he’d branded her, his fist tightening around the belt, his breath as wild and ragged as hers, and all that pride evaporated.
Fuck sanity. Fuck vengeance. Fuck plans. Fuck their silly little games. Fuck all of it but his cock slamming into her pussy, his filthy mouth whispering all the ways he was going to absolutely ruin her.
“No,” she shot right back, and the vampire advanced on her at once, looming over the edge of her bed like a monster come to drag her to the depths of depravity.
His eyes blazed, heat burning away the ice. With one hand he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off, revealing the thick, corded muscles of his arms, the ridges of his abs, the v-shaped muscles that arrowed down beneath his hips.
Jaci had never wanted to lick anything as badly as she did at that moment.
Gabriel knelt on the bed, leaning close.
His scent washed over her, making her dizzy with desire.
“I mean it this time, Prince,” she said, hands pressed flat against his pecs, rock-hard beneath her touch. “If you mess with me tonight, I’m going back to the demons at the bar and you can go right to hell.”
“The only place I’m going tonight, witch, is right between your thighs.” In a flash he grabbed her hands, pinning them behind her back and binding her wrists with the belt.
One hard tug, then another, and she was well and truly captured.
He got to his feet and cupped her face, holding her gaze for a beat.
Then he hauled her to the edge of the bed, dropped to his knees on the floor, and wrapped her thighs around his neck.
Seven hells.
Jaci had never particularly liked men. Never had time for their bullshit. She’d learned to take care of her own needs long ago, and after all this time on her own, she actually believed she’d gotten quite good at it.
Fifteen seconds beneath the vampire’s mouth dashed those silly thoughts.
Gabriel Redthorne was a fucking menace.
Just as she’d feared.
Just as she’d hoped.
The monster had been unleashed from his cage, and now he was all over her, everywhere at once, sexy stubble scratching her thighs, fingers digging into her flesh, his hair brushing against her bare skin, his hot mouth searing as he licked and sucked and devoured and licked again.
Without the full use of her arms, Jaci’s muscles trembled with the effort of keeping her body upright, but she didn’t dare lie back. Didn’t dare miss the sight of his dark head between her thighs, his misty-forest gaze glinting in the moonlight. Alternating with teasing flicks across her clit and deep, hot thrusts inside her, every stroke of his tongue left her gasping and hot, her body tight and tingling, her nerve endings electrified.
She felt it building up inside, flames licking across the deepest places, scorching a hot path up through her belly and into her chest and then…
“Gabriel!” she cried out, thighs clamping around his face as the orgasm took hold and he pushed her beyond the brink, licking, sucking, plunging inside her as she let herself be utterly consumed.
Moments later, still perched on the edge of the bed with her wrists bound, Jaci could hardly breathe.
Gabriel rose to his feet. The look in the vampire’s eyes was feral, his mouth shining with the evidence of what he’d done to her. She felt the heat of his glare on her body again, on all the places where his passionate kisses had marked her.
He was hungry for her. Starving.
And in that moment she knew, without hesitation, that whatever order fell from his lips next, she’d obey.
He leaned in close again, a deadly whisper brushing across her mouth. “On your knees, witch.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
His witch knelt before him, wrists bound behind her back, eyes wide, that ripe red mouth a seductive invitation Gabriel wouldn’t refuse even if someone had a stake pressed to his heart.
He was drunk on the taste of her
. High from the way she’d cried out his name as he’d coaxed so much pleasure from her body. Dizzy just from looking at her.
And if he didn’t fuck her soon, he was quite certain he’d burn to ash.
One and done, dickhead, he reminded himself. One and fucking done.
“Open your mouth, little moonflower.” Caressing her jaw, he pressed his thumb to her lower lip, and she obeyed, parting easily for him.
Gabriel fisted his cock and grinned. “Hmm. For all the sass, it seems my witch likes being told what to do in the bedroom.”
The desire flooding her eyes was all the confirmation she offered.
“Good girl,” he whispered, threading his other hand into her hair, fingers tightening in the warm silk. She opened her mouth wider, her velvet tongue darting out to taste him, just as he’d done to her.
In a single thrust, he slid inside that hot, wet haven, forcing himself not to groan at the sight of her lips wrapped around his cock.
Then she moved her tongue. A slow, erotic tease, her teeth scraping the top of him, hot breath caressing him. Her soft moan sent ripples of intense pleasure down his rock-hard length.
Fucking hell…
His knees nearly buckled, and he tightened his grip on her hair, pulling back, then thrusting inside again, deeper this time, making her gag.
“Relax,” he growled, and again she obeyed him, relaxing her throat and taking him all the way in. Tears glazed her eyes, but when he tried to pull back to let her breathe, she groaned her refusal and sucked him harder, that devious little tongue doing its damndest to completely destroy him.
Thirty more seconds of it and he’d…
No. Not yet. Not like this.
If this was to be their one-and-done deal, Gabriel was going to make it fucking last.
He pulled out of her soft, seductive mouth, leaving her gasping. Then, in a move so fast she didn’t even have time to draw another breath, he hauled her up, unbound her wrists, and tossed her onto the bed.
“Spread your legs for me, witch.”