The Knight: The Original's Trilogy - Book 3

by Cara Crescent

  “What are we doing?” He followed her into the kitchen and waited while she rummaged in the freezer.

  “Lift your arm.”

  With a roll of his eyes, he lifted one arm. She shoved something cold at his armpit, pulled his arm down, and hugged him, pinning his arm to his side.

  Ice cube. “That’s cold!” He tried to pull away and she held onto him like moss on a stone. “You’re going to hurt me if you keep struggling.”

  He stilled. “That’s low.”

  She giggled.

  “Why do I have an ice cube in my pit?”

  “People with . . . .” She sighed. “Some people, big strong, tough people—”

  He snorted. The ice was starting to burn.

  “—can sometimes benefit from things that draw all the body’s attention to a single point.”

  His body was definitely focused. “Sex would’ve been more fun and still focused my attention on one point.”

  She nipped his shoulder.

  “Of course. Ice. It’s more practical.” The damn thing was melting, dripping cold water down his side. “Wait, that thing is water, right? I don’t have blood ruining my shirt, do I?”

  “As if I’d waste one of my blood cubes on you.”

  “Right.” They stood there in silence, his back to the counter, her arms holding him tight, and that damned ice was cold as hell. “I’m bored.”

  “Bored?”

  “And I feel stupid.” He clenched his jaw. “Here I am standing in the middle of the happiest fucking kitchen I’ve ever seen with a beautiful woman wrapped around me . . . and an ice cube in my armpit.”

  Another giggle shook her.

  “Jesus, don’t laugh at me.”

  “I’m . . . ” She shook her head. “I’m not sorry.” She kissed his shoulder.

  “You’re a cruel woman with strange, unusual methods of torture.” A shiver shook through him. “I’m all for a bit of kink, but this is weird.”

  “How are the spiders?”

  Spiders? He quit fidgeting, searching for the sensation of tiny legs pricking under his skin. His lips parted. “Gone.” He hadn’t had to rub himself raw. Didn’t need to cut himself. Forget how silly this seemed, it worked! He brought his free hand up, ran the edge of his thumb down her cheek in a gentle caress. “What do you want?”

  “Not this again.” She stepped away from him. “Nothing, I told you.”

  “No. I mean . . . I want to do something for you. Anything. Right now.”

  A wave of bright pink flashed through her aura. “I want a handsome man to dance with me.”

  That was it? He’d offered to do anything for her and that’s what she wanted? “Would you settle for a scarred male?”

  She smacked his chest. “Quit fishing for compliments. You are handsome. I don’t even see the scars when I look at you.”

  No, she wouldn’t. She was too damn sweet to be bothered by imperfections, even the big glaring ones. “How about some music?”

  “Of course.” She headed into the living room.

  Dancing. Did he know how to dance? He remembered parties. Raves. Night clubs. Yeah, he knew how to dance. He started after her and then paused. Why did he have so many memories of parties, but not one memory of being at a party? It was like the movies. He remembered seeing them, but not going to a theater or sprawled out on a couch watching them. That didn’t seem right.

  “I think I found something.”

  “Better be something suitable, butterfly. Nothing foo-foo.”

  She arched her brow. “Why do you assume I listen to foo-foo music?” When he did nothing but smirk, she glanced back down at her play list. She was pretty sure he’d think all this was foo-foo music. She picked something that at least had a male singer and some bass.

  He nodded. “I like that. Kinda has a dirty beat.”

  Dirty. That was a good way to describe it—the song had always made her want to find something warm and hard to rub against.

  “Shoes off. I’m messed up enough, can’t have you stomping on my toes.”

  She would’ve gasped if he hadn’t come up behind her and nuzzled her ear while he spewed that bit of rubbish. “I think you’re trying to get me to strip.” She slipped out of her sandals and he pulled her back into the shelter of his body.

  “Not at all. What you need is a dancing dress.”

  “Don’t have one.”

  “Sure you do.” He took hold of the elastic waist of her skirt and pulled it up over her breasts, under her sweater.

  “Jules!” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to smack his hands or pull down the skirt. Her legs were bare from mid-thigh down.

  “Now we need to get this off.” He pulled her sweater over her head. “And wah-la—the perfect clubbing dress.”

  Her breasts kept the skirt from sliding back down, but her arms were bare. Her legs. She grabbed for her sweater.

  He held it out of reach. “I can’t see you, so you’re wasting that pretty blush.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “How do you know I’m blushing?”

  “Your colors changed.”

  “I feel silly.”

  He reached around her and turned up the music. “What? Couldn’t hear you.”

  Blasted man. He had her sweater behind his back and wasn’t budging an inch. She could either run upstairs to change, or dance with him as is. “Fine.”

  “Fine.” He grinned, tossing her sweater on the couch.

  Kat slipped her hand into his and he spun her into his arms, making her skirt twirl out. Her cheeks flamed as she came up against his chest. “I think I’d get charged with indecent exposure if I went out like this.”

  “Yeah, you would.” He pressed her up against him, urging her to put her arms around his neck. She didn’t know why she assumed they’d be doing the junior-high-shuffle, but there wasn’t anything childish or plodding about their dancing. His thigh had ended up between hers, their bodies so close every move seemed to graze something sensitive. His cock was hard against her thigh. Her nipples stiff. Gaia, was it hot in here? She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Or get close enough. The bass of the music thrummed through her body making her light-headed, their dance just fast enough that she was losing her breath. Sexy enough that she didn’t want to dance anymore—she’d rather go to bed.

  He wasn’t helping matters, stroking up her arms one minute, cupping her ass the next. The skirt was short enough—or maybe he’d hiked it up more—so that his fingertips kept brushing her skin where she should be covered by clothing. He manipulated her position with ease as they moved, keeping her right where he wanted her. Ensuring what they were doing remained closer to dry sex than any kind of dancing a couple could legally do in public.

  She flattened her hand on his chest, wanting every part of her touching him and he covered her hand with his, pressing it close, dragging it up to his neck. He kissed her wrist and while he shouldn’t be able to see her through that bandage, he was holding her gaze through it. She knew damned well he was. She felt his gaze same as she felt his hands stroking over her skin.

  With every beat, her need grew. Her pussy clenched and tingled. Her thighs were quivering. He bent to kiss her neck. Chills raced over her skin.

  “Jules?” The music was too loud, covering her question. Or maybe not. He pulled her closer, his thigh tight against the juncture of her legs. He forced her head back with his hand twisted in her hair and when her lips parted he took advantage.

  The Grigori went down onto the Earth and instead of proving humans to be evil, quickly became embroiled in the matters of men. Each of the two hundred Grigori angels carried special knowledge of the universe. Frustrated by the way the humans struggled to survive, the Grigori taught the men medicine, hunting, strategy, religion, astronomy, and many other things. The goddess smiled. The angels had always been good.

  Chapter 21

  “Take me to bed.” She nipped his earlobe and his hands tightened on her ass cheeks.

  His mouth came down ove
r hers and she held tight as he walked her backward toward the stairs. After her brief kiss with Harry, she appreciated her mate even more. He didn’t only kiss with lips. He made love to her with tongue and teeth and his breath. His whole body got involved. From the way he hunched his shoulders and bowed his head, to the way he pressed his whole body to hers and held her close—he surrounded her when he kissed her, tried to become one with her. With every other step, one of his legs stepped between hers, his thigh teasing against her mound.

  Her ankle bumped a stack of books and she stumbled.

  He steadied her, shifted directions, not lifting his mouth from hers. A few more steps and her hip bumped a chair. She giggled.

  Julius lifted his face long enough to grin down at her as he spun her around so he was the one backing up.

  When he lowered his face to hers again, she tangled her fingers in his hair around the bandage. He tasted good. Smelled good. Felt good. Gaia, how she ached for him. They stumbled and he fell back onto the first couple of steps. She ended up straddling one of his legs. They both laughed, holding onto each other. “We’re a mess.”

  “Nah, just me. I’m distracted, butterfly.” The silly grin he wore made her chest swell.

  “Oh?”

  “It’s all these clothes.” He gave the skirt a tug and the elastic slid down, allowing her breasts to bounce free. “Better.”

  He urged her up until she knelt on the same step he sat on and latched onto one tip.

  Her pussy clenched. She gripped his hair in her hands. “I can’t wait.” A shiver stole over her skin and her breath shuddered out of her. “Upstairs.”

  He shifted to the other breast.

  Desire pooled in her belly. “Jules.” She pushed her weight back, standing, drawing him with her. The tactic got him to his feet. Got his mouth wandering up her chest to her neck. Her ear. He slid his hands under the elastic waist and slid the skirt down her hips. The material pooled at her feet.

  He waggled his brows. “Much better.”

  She darted around him and ran halfway up the stairs before he caught her around the waist and pressed her to the wall. She wasn’t sure if the cool plaster against her backside made her shiver, or if it was the fully aroused male nipping at her neck.

  “You’re overdressed, baby.”

  His answer was one long lick up the side of her neck.

  Tease. She yanked the hem of his shirt out from his pants and pulled it over his head. He growled when he had to pull away for her to get the shirt off. Then his mouth was on hers again, his tongue sinking deep to mate with hers. He kept pressing against her, making her struggle to undo his belt, his pants. She pushed them down his hips, letting gravity take them the rest of the way. His weight shifted as he stepped himself out of the jeans. “Touch me.” He pressed his forehead to hers and they both watched—him through that damned bandage—as her fingers closed around his cock.

  A harsh breath shuddered out of him.

  He was all lean, long muscle and taut bronzed skin. His cock was hard and ruddy and so thick her fingers didn’t quite touch. She stroked him, squeezing lightly and twisting her hand over the broad head. His hips jerked forward in response. A little bead of pre-cum leaked from the tip. She slid her thumb over it and started to kneel, wanting to taste him.

  He stopped her. “Not today. I won’t last.”

  Holding his gaze, knowing he saw her through that damned bandage, she lifted her thumb to her mouth.

  His breath caught.

  She slid her thumb between her lips, closing her eyes as his taste hit her, musky and male and sexy as hell.

  He jerked her into his arms and ran up the remaining stairs as she squealed and laughed. Once in the bedroom, he lay her on the bed, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re mine now. You’ve sealed your fate, butterfly.”

  When he started to cover her with his body, she pushed against his chest. Prodded him until he sprawled out on his back. “Maybe you’re mine.” She kissed his muscled belly, nipped the rise of his pec and when she went to kiss him, he sat up.

  “Put your arms around me.”

  She straddled his hips and wrapped her arms around him until her breasts pressed flush to his chest.

  He lay back, pinning her hands between his back and the mattress.

  “Hey!”

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “No.” She tugged, but couldn’t escape. “This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

  “I bet I can convince you. Come here.” He tipped his face up, and for the moment she forgot all about escaping, instead getting lost in his kiss. He raised his knees between hers and spread his legs, forcing hers so wide the kiss of air on her pussy made her shiver.

  “Jules—”

  His hips lifted and the tip of his cock slid against her slit. Once. Twice. Then caught at the hallow of her entrance. She gasped.

  He pressed into her. “Still sore?”

  She shook her head. Not sore. Stretched. Full. Achy. Wanting. “More.”

  “Slow and easy, butterfly. There’s no reason you need to hurt after.”

  True to his word, he eased into her so slow she fought against him, trying to sink down faster.

  His hands cupped her ass, holding her still, holding her wide. “Easy, there.”

  She nipped his neck. “Faster.” She twisted one of her hands, trying to pull it from beneath him and he pressed back, keeping her right where she was. He was always so impatient, moving, pacing, skipping from one topic to the next, but here in bed, she was the one pushing for more, for faster, for now.

  He seemed to think they had all the time in the world. He eased out of her so slow her inner walls tracked every ridge and curve of his cock. Tingles, sharp and shocking, had her clenching around him as he left her. She pressed her face to the crook of his neck. “Ah, Gaia.”

  “Relax, butterfly. You’ll like this.” He paused, the head of his cock holding her wide, then leisurely pushed back in. Everything in her tensed as delicious sensations washed over her, lifting gooseflesh over her skin. Her nipples were hard, aching, pressed tight to his chest. He turned his face toward hers. His lips were parted around harsh puffs of air. Even though they were barely moving they were both panting. “Christ, you feel good. Soft and slick.” He bottomed out and paused. “And so damn tight.”

  She squeezed her inner muscles.

  He moaned. “Ah, God.” He brushed her nose with his. “Hard and fast has its place, but this . . .” He began to ease out of her. “I can feel all the subtle intricacies of your body that I usually miss.”

  “Like . . . what?” She couldn’t catch her breath.

  “This here.” He paused and pushed back in enough to brush the spot again, making her shiver and clench. “You’re tighter there, more sensitive.” He continued his slow glide out, his cock head brushing the spot again, making her moan. “Or this.” He stopped at her entrance, flexing his hips the slightest bit, once, twice, three times. “You like that. When I’m just pressing inside you.”

  “Do it again.” She wet her lips. “All the way in, ’til I’m full to bursting.”

  His hips jerked, but he caught himself, inched his way back in.

  She squeezed him again. Leaned in and sucked his bottom lip into her mouth. “Keep going.”

  He kneaded her ass with his big hands as he eased out of her, but he was losing his steady pace. Losing control. She wanted him to.

  “I’m so close, baby.” She undulated her body against his. Licked the shell of his ear. “I want your mouth on my breast.”

  Those seemed to be the magic words. He lifted enough for her to free her hands and she braced herself so she could arch up. She let out a strangled scream when he latched onto her. The position pressed him deep inside her. She rotated her hips. His fingers gripped her tighter.

  The scent of sex filled every breath. “Harder.”

  He flipped their positions, bowing his back so he could suckle her breast and thrust hard into her. She locked her ankles ar
ound his hips. Gripped his shoulders in her hands, her nails sinking into his skin. Everything seemed to hang from a single thread, all her muscles tensed, and desire coiled tight in her belly. With his next thrust it snapped. “Jules.” Her inner muscles contracted, fluttering in release.

  “God, I love that.” He held himself pressed deep inside her, eyes closed and as her body settled, he began to move again. She ran her hands down his chest. Pinched his nipple and smiled when a shudder wracked through him. She did it again. His hips rammed home hard once and he was jetting into her, his lips pulled back from his teeth as his release shook him.

  He stretched out over her, bracing his weight on his arms and kissed her cheek. Her chin. Her eye.

  She giggled. “Feeling grateful?”

  “Sated and happy.”

  “Mm.” She hugged him. “Me, too.”

  Azazel frowned. That little house hadn’t been there before. It should’ve been. He remembered seeing it before—Rowena’s daughter lived there. Crowley’s mate. He scanned the home and the rooms within and he cursed, long and loud.

  Julius Crowley was still alive. Alive and curled up in bed with his mate.

  He wouldn’t be for long.

  The men were so thankful to the Grigori, they began to adore and pray to the angels. They brought sacrifices to them. They offered them their daughters. And so it was that the sons of the goddess married the daughters of men.

  The goddess turned away. They hadn’t even invited her to their weddings.

  Chapter 22

  Saturday

  It was well after dusk and Kat was still asleep. Julius should be, too, and if he hadn’t kept dreaming of the hood, kept waking, shaking and covered in sweat, he would be. Why the hell did it bother him so much? He could see through the bandage, not perfectly, but enough. He wouldn’t be helpless and blind in the darkness ever again. Still, the thought of being forced into another hood made him jittery as fuck.