by L. E. Wilson
He finally found his voice. “No!” he told her. “No. This is fine.”
She watched him carefully. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? If you don’t want me here—”
That was as far as she got. “Take off your clothes, little mouse.”
Laney blinked, and her mouth snapped shut with an audible click.
“Take them off now,” he growled. So many thoughts clamored for dominance in his head, so many emotions, but there was one that overruled them all.
He needed to possess her. He needed her submission.
The air between them was simultaneously too heavy and too thin. Dante’s blood raced, his muscles tensed, his sex throbbing within the confines of his pants. Inhaling deeply, the scent of her desire filled his nose. His mouth watered. She was already wet for him, her breasts rising and falling with her quickened breaths. He waited.
She glanced around, then back at him. Backing up a few paces, she braced one hand on the brick wall as she kicked off her sneakers. After a slight pause, she undid her jeans and pulled them off, taking her socks with them. Straightening up, she stood before him in nothing but his oversized T-shirt.
“All of it,” he ordered.
Blood flooded into her cheeks, making them flush, but she did as he ordered, pulling off the shirt and tossing it on top of the rest. She didn’t try to cover herself.
A low growl rumbled in his chest. She wasn’t wearing any underthings. There was a buzzing in his head as his eyes traveled from the lock of hair curling around one dusky nipple, to the curve of her hip, to the scars on her belly, to her shapely legs and the “V” of dark curls in between, and even her small feet.
Grinding his jaw against the urge to spin her around and take her against the wall, he ripped off his shirt, still wet from the rain. His skin felt tight, his fangs ached, and his manhood was so engorged it was painful. But he welcomed this pain. “Lie down on the bed,” he told her as he knelt down to unfasten his boots. “On your back.”
Again, she did as he told her. But he wasn’t fooled. His little mouse only obeyed his commands because she chose to do so. Her sweet, earthy scent was only tempered by the musky smell of her sex. There was no stench of fear.
As he rose and unfastened his pants, kicking off his boots much as she had, her hungry eyes were rapt on his manhood. When he was as nude as she, he took the heavy length in his hand. It filled his palm, and he stroked himself as he walked over to her and dropped to his knees.
She immediately sat up, reaching for him, but he pressed her back down. “No, Laney.” Kneeling beside her, he released his sex as he ran his free hand over her soft skin, afraid he would come merely from the sight of her. Laney arched her back, pressing her breasts into his palm, and he pinched her nipple. “Spread your legs. I want to see you.”
She did, and he moved until he was lying between them. Her sex was soaking wet, the scent of her desire strong. Placing his hands on her thighs, he pushed them even further apart. He could see her opening, and lower, her ass.
He would possess her there one day also.
Sliding one hand up her leg to her pelvis, he ran his thumb through her satiny folds, spreading the moisture to the hard nub hidden within.
Her hips bucked. “Dante, please…”
He kissed the inside of her thigh. “Shhh, little mouse.” Dante was fast discovering that he enjoyed this particular type of torture, both for her and for himself. But more than that, he was determined to take his time and enjoy this gift that had fallen into his hands against all the odds.
He circled her clit a few more times, eliciting a groan from her before moving his thumb down through her wet pussy to press inside of her. Her hands fisted in the blanket as she arched her back again, trying to force it in deeper. Pulling out, he replaced his finger with his mouth, inserting his tongue. Her taste made him moan.
She rocked against his face shamelessly as he licked up the length of her, flicked her clit with his tongue, and then took his mouth away.
“Touch your breasts,” he ordered.
She immediately covered them with both hands, moaning when her fingers brushed over her nipples.
With the sounds of her pleasure in his ears, he lowered his head back between her trembling thighs. As his tongue went to work on her clitoris, he cupped her ass in one hand and pressed his thumb back inside her. In and out, in and out—until she was panting and moaning his name. He longed to bite her, to taste her sweet blood mix with her desire, but he made himself wait.
When he sensed that she was on the verge of coming, he slid his thumb out and moved down to her ass. He circled the outer ring, spreading her moisture, readying her. She stilled when she realized what he was doing, but he pressed his other arm across her hips and held her there. Baring his fangs, he bit her at the same time that he invaded her tight ass with his thumb. The blood from her swollen clit covered his tongue as he swirled it around the hardened bud.
Laney came instantly, her body jerking uncontrollably as her cries echoed around them. He pumped his thumb in and out of her as he held her in his fangs and continued to flick her with his tongue. When she stilled beneath him again, panting heavily, he didn’t give her any time to recover. With one last taste, Dante rose over her and lined himself up with her pussy. A guttural cry escaped him as he pushed his thick length inside of her. She was hot and wet, her body squeezing him as he withdrew and slammed in again. And again. And again. Faster and faster as she bent her knees and raised her legs to give him better access to her body.
Gathering Laney’s wrists in his one hand, he raised them above her head. She laced her fingers through his as he held them there, bracing his weight on his elbow as he slid in an out of her slick heat. When he felt his balls tightening, he lifted his free arm to his mouth and bit down. Pressing it to her mouth, he ordered her to drink. “Take it. Take me.”
She moaned at the taste of his blood, every pull on his vein sending sparks of lust straight to his sex. Lowering his head to the curve of her shoulder, he reared back slightly and sank his fangs into her warm flesh. Laney cried out against his arm, and Dante moaned in ecstasy as he began to drink, every swallow sending her lifeblood shooting through his body. He felt everything, heard every tiny sound of pleasure that tore from her throat. Dante pounded into her, barely keeping himself under control, trying hard not to hurt her.
She bit down on his wrist, and lust surged through him. Lifting his head, he roared with the strength of his release as Laney tensed beneath him. Waves of passion escalated through his body as his seed pumped from his manhood, continuing for long moments after the pulses of her orgasm had wrung him dry.
Dante released his fangs from her neck, licking the wound clean, and then doing the same with his wrist. Holding her leg around his hip, he rolled to his back, taking her with him until she was sprawled on top of him with their fingers still laced next to his head.
He ran his free hand down her back and over her ass, overcome with the power of what he was feeling, in spite of the release he’d just experienced. “If you ever try to leave me, little mouse, I will hunt you down. There will be nowhere for you to run, nowhere for you to hide. I won’t ever stop until I find you.”
Bracing her arm across his chest, she lifted her head. Her silky hair tumbled around them, shielding them from the rest of the world. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright as she smiled. “Promise?”
As he gazed spellbound into her beautiful face, Dante’s black soul was engulfed by light. He was home.
Epilogue
That night, Shea roamed the rain slickened streets of downtown Seattle. She had just left a meeting of the vampires and witches at Luukas’s apartment. Luukas was edgy with everything that had happened. There’d been no word from Nikulas or Aiden yet, nor from any of the other scouts he’d sent out. He didn’t blame Dante for what he had done. He’d even admitted that if it had been Keira, he would have done exactly the same.
Dante had brought Laney upstairs with him, where she was properly
introduced to everyone, and the girls were already planning ways to “brighten” up the underground for her, since she insisted on staying down there until Dante could bring himself to stay upstairs with her. Though Dante had quickly shut down that idea, promising Laney that he would do everything he could to make their room comfortable for her. He even took their pets down there with them when they left. Laney was hoping her cat would turn out to be a good mouser.
While they were there, Dante had sat down with her and explained to her that she was a Protector, filling her in on what exactly that meant with help from the other witches. He also told her that because she was a Protector, there was no “fucking way in hell” that she had killed her own child. The baby shared her blood; it was impossible for her to hurt him. The others backed him up on that point until she believed him. Her grandfather, she’d admitted, was her grandmother’s second husband. They’d wed after Laney’s mom was born, so there was no actual blood bond. After more questioning, they’d all come to the conclusion that he had been possessed. His body had probably already died before she had exorcised the demon. She’d cried in his arms then as he’d silently held her.
At one point, while the witches had Laney surrounded, Dante had pulled Shea aside with a jerk of his head. When she’d joined him, he’d said under his breath, “About that human at the homeless camp—”
“We’ll keep that just between us,” she assured him.
He’d given her a grateful nod. “Thank you, Shea.”
“Anytime, commander.” She’d grinned when he’d narrowed his eyes at the name. Then he shook his head and went back to his female. The pull between them was so tangible, Shea herself could feel it. Dante would never be cheery, but maybe he would find a measure of peace with her. Shea was very happy for him.
Then why did she feel so damn crappy?
She walked until she got to Capital Hill, the notoriously gay neighborhood of Seattle. Shea wasn’t gay by nature, but being that she couldn’t so much as touch a male without horrendous pain shooting through every nerve of her body, she often found herself in the area looking for a meal. Sometimes, she even had sex with the girls she found; just to be able to have some skin on skin contact.
Up ahead on the corner, she saw the dark brown walls of her favorite dive gay bar. Refurbished from a nineteen thirties vintage gas station, the place was small but quaint. And more importantly, it had a patio that was open year round thanks to a retractable cover and a fire pit, providing room to avoid accidental touching and a quick escape if the need ever arose.
The bouncer eyed up her combat boots, tight black jeans and green silk tank top with appreciation. With a smile and a wink, he let her in. He didn’t even bother to card her anymore. Which was good, because she never brought her fake ID with her.
It was disco night, hence the silk shirt, but Shea was early. The place was only about half full, and she made it to the bar without having to dodge any friendly male greetings. She ordered her usual, a Jack and Coke, and while she waited, she admired the porn stapled to the walls. All male, of course. Drink in hand, she thanked the bartender with a fat tip and wandered out to the patio. Once out there, she found her favorite corner table and settled in to wait. It may take a bit to find a female that caught her fancy. The crowd tended to be overwhelmingly male.
The rain seemed to have taken the night off, and Shea did a little star gazing as she sipped her drink and waited for more people to show up. She was restless tonight, and she couldn’t quite nail down a reason why. A group of males came out, celebrating a birthday it seemed. She gave them a once over and proceeded to ignore them, not sensing any threats.
Suddenly, Shea froze with her drink halfway to her mouth. A large raven had landed on the half wall next to her. Tilting her head, she stared at Shea with one beady black eye and then squawked in greeting.
It couldn’t be.
Shea’s eyes skittered around the small patio and her fangs shot down in her mouth as a faint scent drifted on the light breeze. She knew that scent. Setting her drink on the table, she rose from her chair. Her heart pounded, her skin so sensitive she felt every tiny nuance in the change of the air.
The birthday boys broke out into raucous laughter and headed back into the club as a particularly campy song came on. Shea stared past the spot they’d just vacated into the opposite corner of the patio. A pair of topaz eyes glowed by the light of the fire, piercing her to the core.
Slowly, she made her way across the floor. Those eyes wandered leisurely down her body and back again as she approached. When she reached the table, they dipped down to her breasts, and her nipples hardened against the sensuous rub of the silk. Those eyes seemed to grow brighter before making their way back up over her bare shoulders and to her face.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“Hello, Shea.”
Jesse’s deep raspy voice stroked her like a lover’s caress.
THE SERIES CONTINUES WITH BLOOD MAGICK (DEATHLESS NIGHT SERIES #6) - COMING SOON!
About the Author
L.E. Wilson writes Paranormal Romance with Bite (because Vampires!) starring intense alpha males and the women who are fearless enough to tame them—for the most part anyway. ;) In her novels you'll find smoking hot scenes, a touch of suspense, a bit of gore, and multifaceted characters, all working together to combine her lifelong obsession with the paranormal and her love of romance.
Her writing career came about the usual way: on a dare from her loving husband to "write a damn book" already while folding laundry one day in Texas. Taking that as the challenge that it was, she grabbed her mango Hard Lemonade, hit the pool, and Blood Hunger, the first book of her Deathless Night Series, was born. Little did she know just one casual suggestion would open a box of worms (or words as the case may be) that would forever change her life.
L.E. now lives in the misty mountains outside of Seattle, WA with her family. Peach tea and her tiara are a necessary part of her writing process, though sometimes you'll find her typing away at her favorite Starbucks. She walks two miles to get there, to make up for all of those coffees. On the weekends she likes to hike, garden, cook vegan food, and have date nights with her favorite guy.
On a Personal Note:
“I love to hear from my readers! Contact me anytime at P.O. Box 2742, Issaquah, WA 98027 or email me at [email protected]."
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