Crimson Sins

by Madeline Pryce

  “Yes,” she gasped and threaded her fingers through his dark hair to hold him in place.

  He flicked his tongue over the sensitive tip of her nipple, drew it into his mouth again. She panted at the wicked sensation of him sucking her. Bastian stroked her other breast. The pleasure spiraled, intensified at the dual sensation, and she wondered if she could climax from this alone. She never knew anything could feel so amazing.

  He rolled the bud between his fingers and lightly tugged. With one last lick to the nipple in his mouth, he switched breasts and lavished the other peak with the same glorious attention until she undulated restlessly beneath him. Releasing her breast, he dropped to his knees and blazed a path of heat down her stomach that lit her skin from within. He looked up the line of her body and met her eyes.

  Oh, God. He really was going to grovel.

  Thumbs hooking the sides of her panties, he then pulled the damp silk off her legs. She shivered when he nibbled along the inside of her thigh, and whimpered when he laved the spot with his tongue as if to soothe it. She squeezed her eyes shut, almost embarrassed at what he was about to do.

  “Eyes open,” he ordered.

  Her lids fluttered open just as Bastian’s hair drifted across the inside of her thigh, soft and thrilling. She shivered and drew in a sharp breath when he spread her legs wider. His exhale drifted cool air across her sex, and a fresh gush of juices trickled. She was so wet. His lips grazed the very heart of her, light and fleeting. Her hips moved of their own accord, seeking his mouth, his tongue. He nuzzled her pussy, and inhaled deeply.

  His eyes lifted, and once more his intense gaze met hers. Morgan’s lips parted, but no sound escaped. Not until his wet tongue flicked out and he licked her did she release a shuddering breath. A low moan followed quickly when he sucked on her clit.

  Good God.

  Morgan snapped her eyes closed and swore she saw heaven.

  “Fuck. You taste amazing,” he rasped and drew the broad, flat surface of his tongue against her opening.

  Bastian gripped her thighs and pulled her sex tight against his face. He scraped his tongue along her clit, lapped at the tight bundle of nerves. Holding her hips still, he caressed her again. Then he changed strokes. He stiffened his tongue and flicked until her quiet moans weren’t so quiet anymore.

  His hands bit into her thighs, and he lowered his head so he could press his tongue into the wet opening of her pussy and drink every drop of her pleasure. He sucked before thrusting his tongue inside, and then pulling back. He gently spread her lips with his fingers and then ran his tongue over the folds again.

  “So sexy,” he murmured against her.

  She stared down the line of her body and met the dark blue fire in his eyes as he sucked at the sensitive flesh. The sight of him feasting between her thighs, watching her, pushed her closer to the edge.

  He drew a finger through her moisture before pressing deep inside her core. Bastian tongued her slowly, expertly, until the need to climax consumed her. He slid two fingers inside, filled her. He moved his lips to the hard knot of her clit and surrounded it.

  She was going to explode. She was right there. So close.

  “You taste like cinnamon and sugar.” He kissed her clit, once, twice, and then licked around it slowly, his pleasure-drunk gaze locked with hers. “I could feast on you for eternity.”

  He stroked his fingers back and forth against her G-spot. The pleasure was sharp, instant ecstasy. The orgasm hit her at one hundred and fifty miles an hour. Throwing her head back, she screamed her release loud enough to wake the dead. Her world exploded, the climax ripping through her and leaving nothing but rapture. Her muscles tightened, and the only thing that kept her grounded was Bastian’s hold on her.

  She closed her eyes and slumped back on the door behind her. “I think I love you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bastian’s chest tightened. Morgan thought she loved him. Fuck yes, she did. The simple words uttered in her husky, sex-laced voice freed something inside of him. It was all he could do not to throw her on the bathroom floor and fuck the living daylights out of her. In one swift motion, he was on his feet with his hand in her hair and his mouth fused with hers.

  Morgan tore at the fastening on his jeans. She fumbled with his zipper until he batted her hands away and did it himself. He kicked off his jeans, and the heavy weight of his cock sprang free. Bastian curved his hands around her ass and drew her flush against him. The heat of her skin seeped into him, left him craving more. All he wanted was to flip her around and surge into her.

  He was going to fuck this up again. He could feel it. He should slow down, take her back into the bedroom, and make love to her properly. He should tell her he loved her.

  “I need you,” she moaned and scratched her nails down his spine. His skin tightened at her touch. Every muscle clenched in anticipation. “Inside me, Bastian, please.”

  Fuck the bedroom—it was too far. Fuck spilling his guts—he’d never get it out right anyway.

  He’d just show her how he felt.

  “Shower.” He spun her from the wall and guided her into the glass stall, where he turned the knobs.

  She moved under the warming spray of water, and he followed. Mouths tangled, legs intertwined, they cleaned each other with eager hands. Bastian stepped back to admire her wet, soapy skin. Suds ran over her breasts and drifted down her stomach to the dark thatch of curls hiding her pussy. Water sluiced over her skin, rinsing away the bubbles, and he used the time to rein in his lust. Gentler than he thought he was capable of, he ran the backs of his knuckles between her small, pert breasts.

  He trailed his finger over her hip and then curved in to stroke intimately between the lips of her slick sex. “I can’t get enough of you,” he rasped.

  “Then take me.”

  The knowledge that she wanted him made his head spin. He stroked her sex and circled the hard nub of her clit. When he pressed a single finger inside her pussy, a needy whimper left her throat. The soft sound of pleasure inspired him to drag his finger from her gripping channel, only to push back inside. She braced a hand on the smooth wall and, as if to encourage his touch, spread her legs. In and out, he teased her.

  Her head fell back, and wet strands of hair fell over the sexy curve of her shoulder. He traced his tongue along her lower lip before sucking the flesh into his mouth. He thumbed her tight, wet nipple. They locked gazes as she touched her hand to his stomach and oh so slowly drifted south.

  “Show me how you like to be touched,” she whispered.

  The hungry look in her eyes, more so than the teasing way she bypassed his cock to stroke his thigh, undid him. His erection jerked. He wondered if she had any idea how she affected him.

  He’d never reacted to a woman on such a visceral level before. His need went beyond lust. Voice rough, heart skittering, he barely had the strength to form words. “Wrap your hand around my cock.”

  He took her hand and placed it on his shaft. One finger at a time, she closed around the base of his erection and squeezed lightly. Bastian groaned. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d allowed himself to be touched so intimately by another. The carefully constructed rules he’d lived by for so long disappeared. Morgan stripped him of his shields and left him bare.

  “It’s so hard, yet…velvet soft.” Her innocent words spurred on his need to be inside her as quickly as possible.

  Unable to restrain himself any longer, he guided her with a hand over hers to stroke up. Together, they twisted her fist over his foreskin to the engorged head. He brought her hand down, up, and then down. Sharp spikes of ecstasy tightened his balls. A guttural noise of pure pleasure left his throat. She followed the path he’d showed her on her own with a sexy little smile on her face. The water beating around them lubricated her grip. Within seconds she found a rhythm that threatened to drive him to his knees.

  He buried a hand in her hair, tilted her head back, and drew his mouth down the column of her neck. Water ra
n over her skin, and he licked each drop. Bastian focused his attention on her breasts, on each tight nipple he sucked into his mouth and then laved with his tongue.

  By mutual consent, they brought their mouths together. Tongues danced, teased, and heightened the pleasure until Bastian thought he was going to burst. He spoke against her mouth and pulled free the two fingers he had buried within her. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to come before I even get inside you.”

  Morgan caressed his cheek and thumbed away the drops of moisture from the billowing steam. Her eyes met his. Bastian knew the naked lust in her gaze would one day be his downfall. For the first time in his life he understood true obsession. In this moment he’d do anything to be inside her and to keep her with him

  Anything.

  “Make love to me,” she said.

  Passion, need, and desperation coalesced as his mouth found hers. He palmed her thigh and brought her leg up around his waist. He thrust two fingers deep, twisted until he found the spot that made her clench around him in tight, quick spasms.

  “Oh, yes,” she breathed.

  A little harder, a little quicker, he brought her to the brink of orgasm before backing off. He slowed, stretched, and readied her to take all of him. He wouldn’t hurt her this time.

  “Bastian. Please.”

  His name on her lips was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. He lifted her high enough for her to wrap her legs around his waist, and backed her against the wall. Taking his cue, she reached between them to guide his cock to her weeping entrance.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He lowered her onto his erection at the same time he pressed up and in. She arched against him and sank her fingers into his shoulders. The sting of her nails combined with the hot grip of her pussy gave him a rush of pleasure. Despite the hard pounding he’d given her earlier, she was still tight. Lips against her throat, he fought the need to ram himself home. He gripped her thigh harder and pushed, retreated, pushed. On one final thrust, he entered her to the hilt.

  Morgan drew in a sharp breath.

  “You sore from earlier?” He stilled, letting her get used to the sensation.

  “A little, but you feel good inside me.” The tender, intimate look in her eyes and the slight trembling of her lower lip cracked his heart wide open.

  As the hot water pounded around them, he pushed wet strands of hair from her face. He kissed her mouth, cheeks, and chin. His lips found hers, and he kissed her deeply. He moved inside of her, each stroke bringing them closer together. From the depths of his soul, he gave her everything he had. His torment. His pain. His regret. His love.

  I love you. The words on the tip of his tongue wouldn’t leave. Instead of speaking he trailed a hand up her back and held her closer. Flicking her bottom lip with his tongue, he pressed inside her mouth in the same instant he rocked his hips into her. Every slow, driving thrust brought a sound of pleasure from her throat, and Bastian knew he was never going to get enough of her.

  “Nothing in my life has ever been this perfect,” he gasped against her mouth, adjusted her leg to thrust deeper. “Jesus, Morgan, you’re so damned perfect.”

  Between drugging kisses, he made love to her against the wall and tried not to think about how much better she deserved. His body slid against hers.

  Her breathing sped. The racing of her heart matched his rhythm. Magic built from within and pulsed out with each touch, with each kiss, with each slow thrust. The water around them hardened as if it were freezing under the onslaught of their combined energy. He hardly felt the cold, not when the heat of her body against his drowned everything else out.

  Morgan threw her head back, and the muscles deep inside her clenched around him. “Oh God, Bastian,” she moaned.

  The closer she got to climax, the heavier the magic around them became. Cinnamon filled his every breath, and under it, he tasted the musky scent of sandalwood.

  “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” She moved her hips against his to speed his thrusts.

  “Never.”

  He drove into her harder and harder as the momentum of culmination overtook him. She tightened her legs around his waist. The rhythmic squeeze, release, squeeze of her pussy was more than he could take. “Oh, fuck,” he gasped. Sex had never been this good before, had never penetrated his skin and filled him with a euphoria.

  Morgan’s magic consumed him, spread, and spiked his desire until he didn’t know where she began and he ended. Energy gathered around them. Like they were caught in a lasso, magic drew them close and bound them together. Morgan’s breathy panting quickened, and her entire body stilled the moment before her orgasm stole over her.

  It was the only warning he got.

  The explosion of pleasure and magic deafened. She screamed her release. Each clenching spasm milked his cock.

  “Fuck, Morgan. Yes, baby.” Each heavy jet of seed he filled her with tore a ragged moan from his lips.

  Blindly, Bastian found her mouth, breathed his soul into her, and bared everything he was. The man. The abomination. His love. He clung to her, held on tight, and tried to reconcile the depth of his emotions with the intensity of his climax.

  After a few breathless moments, he released her mouth and struggled to see through his doubled vision. Around them, purple ice coated the shower wall and froze the showerheads. He struggled for composure with his heart in his throat. At what point had the water stopped spraying?

  “Is that supposed to happen?” Morgan asked in a voice barely above a whisper as she looked around the shower in awe.

  Still unable to form words, he shook his head and held her closer. He could do nothing else. Every few seconds rippling aftereffects of her climax pulsed around his cock and made it that much harder to come back to himself.

  Gently, afraid he was going to drop her, he set Morgan on trembling feet. He felt the loss of her heat deep inside his bones. The cold snaked in and made him almost sick to his stomach.

  “Honestly, I don’t know.” He looked cautiously at the showerheads. Had the pipes frozen?

  They looked at each other. One half of her mouth quirked up, and he felt his own responding.

  “Wanna try that all over again in the bed?” she asked.

  In answer, he took her mouth in a kiss and carried her into the bedroom.

  * * * *

  An inhuman growl left Ronan’s throat. The rage built, consumed him, and then exploded. He gripped the sides of the shallow ceramic bowl in front of him and flung the two-hundred-pound scrying dish across the room. The object shattered against the stone wall and erased the disgusting image of Bastian thrusting between Morgan’s thighs. Ronan kicked the pedestal and sent it crashing to the ground.

  “She was MINE!”

  He threw his head back, clenched his fists, and screamed. The sound echoed along the cavern walls and sent the bats at the mouth of the cave fluttering. Turning, he swept his hand across the shelf he’d carved from the slick black stone. An array of multicolored potions and jars hit the ground and shattered.

  “The little bitch.”

  Pacing back and forth, Ronan trampled broken glass and splashed through the concoctions he’d brewed. Blood scented the air from the broken vials littering the ground.

  He’d teach them. Teach her. It had taken him hours to perfect the dream he’d given his Morgan. Hours. Every painstaking detail, every touch, every drop of blood had been handcrafted to bring them both maximum pleasure. And, oh how beautiful the terror etched on her face had been.

  He stalked to the broken pieces of his seeing bowl. He bent and ran a hand through the still-icy water. The remembered image of Morgan’s tears trailing down her face while he watched her thrash in Bastian’s bed calmed Ronan. His cock hardened all over again, and he reached down to stroke his erection.

  A slender brown flask shone in the flickering candlelight, and he picked it up. He drew in a relieved breath. How foolish he’d been. He might have bro
ken it in his fit of temper. He brought the bottle up to his nose, thumbed off the stopper, and inhaled.

  Morgan’s blood smelled of cinnamon. Just like his Auri. His anger had been reckless—his rages normally were. What if he’d spilled the last drops of Morgan’s blood? The fucking wards his sons had erected around her were surprisingly resilient. It was the only thing of worth they’d managed. If the magic keeping him from waltzing in and snatching his prize weren’t such a pain in his ass, he might feel a spark of pride.

  Fuck that.

  The image of Bastian’s blue-black hair nestled between Morgan’s pale thighs as they writhed against the bathroom door curdled Ronan’s blood with rage. The whelp had reaped the benefits of Ronan’s efforts. They’d both pay for their betrayal. When Ronan finally got Morgan chained to his bed, he’d make Bastian watch as he tore into her body. Then, when he was done, he’d show Morgan just what sinful deeds Bastian was capable of.

  Oh, yes. How sweet her hot little cunt was going to be. How sweet her anger and anguish was going to taste.

  Patience. What were days, weeks, or even months when you had an eternity? Ronan withdrew the sun-fire amber pendant from beneath his black silk shirt and stroked the swirling patterns in the stone.

  “Soon, Auri. Soon you will have flesh again. You will know my touch once more.”

  He took a cell phone from the pocket of his slacks and dialed a familiar number. Serene calmness filled him. A sleepy, feminine voice drifted through the phone.

  “Hello?” Jodi croaked.

  “I want you at Haven in twenty minutes. Every minute you’re late is a pound of flesh I take from your hide. You liked our little game last time, didn’t you?”

  “I can’t,” she started, and he heard the creak of bedsprings telling him she was still in bed.

  Only the weak slept.

  “No,” he growled. “Come alone. Don’t displease me—you won’t like the results.”