by Tessa Adams
“Where are you going?” he asked, the look in his eyes quizzical as they both stood there, panting and shuddering.
“I want my turn,” she said. “You’ve been making love to me for hours, and I’ve barely had the chance to touch you.”
He swallowed convulsively. “I didn’t realize you wanted that chance.”
“Are you kidding me?” She eyed his huge, tattooed body. “You’re like my own personal playground.”
“Well, by all means, then, darlin’. Have your fun.”
She started with his chest, stroking her fingers over the thick, hard muscles there that felt so different from the soft curves of her own body. The entire right side of his torso was covered with those gorgeous tattoos, and she traced them with a delicate finger, exploring the swirls and sharp edges before putting her mouth on the one just under his pec and licking delicately.
Logan groaned, his hands fisting in her hair. “Darlin’, if you’re sore, then you need to tell me now, before we go any further.”
There was a tenderness between her legs, no doubt about it, but the promise of the incredible pleasure he gave her—and the pleasure she so desperately wanted to give him—rendered obsolete the thought of any discomfort.
She followed the long, curvy stripe of the tattoo across his body and down his side to nuzzle his hip area before swiping her tongue down below the waistband of his pants. He jerked, his fingers tightening against her scalp, and she reveled in the fact that was finally stretching the control he’d kept such a tight leash on while he’d been making love to her.
“Baby—” His voice broke, and he had to clear his throat before he could start again. “You didn’t answer me. Can you take me again?”
She knelt and nipped at the flat, ripped muscles of his abdomen before lifting her head to give him her most seductive smile. “I would love to take you again.” Then she gave one quick tug, and his sweatpants dropped to his ankles.
He kicked them off with a growl, but she barely noticed. She was too transfixed by the sight of his cock, up close and right at eye level. He was huge, but she’d already known that from how he felt inside her. She licked her lips, enthralled by the idea of tasting him.
Reaching out, she ran her index finger over the broad mushroom head, wiped away the drop of pre-ejaculate already glistening there. Then, lifting her eyes to his, she slipped her finger into her mouth and licked it clean.
“Fuck, Cecily. You’re killing me here.”
“Killing you?” She raised an eyebrow. “I’ve barely even gotten started.”
“It doesn’t matter. I want you so bad it’s killing me not to lift you up, wrap your legs around my waist and shove my dick deep inside you.”
She melted at the thought, desire soaking her pussy and making her want exactly what he did. But not as much as she wanted to feel him, to hold him in her hand, to taste him.
“You know what they say, don’t you, Logan?” She touched the very tip of him again, wiped up another drop of precum, and swirled it softly around the head of his penis.
“What—what do they say, Cecily?” His voice was hoarse, his hands rough, and she knew she was getting to him. Good. He more than deserved it after what he’d put her through earlier. “Payback’s a bitch.”
“Fuck! Don’t toy with me. I’m too hot.”
“You certainly are.” Moving slowly, a little unsure of what she was doing but wanting to explore every part of her lover, she cupped his testicles in her palm and then squeezed very gently.
Logan’s breath broke on a long exhale, but he didn’t move to stop her, so she spent a few minutes just exploring him. He felt like velvet here, soft and spongy and gently ridged where the skin bunched up. Her fingers traced over every part of him, nudging and prodding and stroking until his breath was bellowing in and out of his lungs, and touching was no longer enough.
Leaning forward, she nuzzled him, absorbing the musky smell of him deep inside her even as she blew softly on his sensitive skin. His thighs tensed and he jerked against her. She could almost feel the beast rising in him, could almost feel the fire sizzling through his bloodstream.
She wanted to taste him, to stroke him with her tongue, to know what it felt like to take him deep in her mouth and suck him to orgasm. Knowing that he had some psychic ability, based on the way he’d spoken to her telepathically when they’d been flying above the lake, she sent her thoughts to him. Let him see everything she wanted to do to him. With him.
He groaned, long and low and deep, and then growled, “Do it. Do it right fucking now.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help herself. The idea that she had driven this magnificent man to the brink of his control was intoxicating. Overwhelming. And so addictive that she wondered if she would ever be able to let him go. Pushing the unwanted thought to the back of her head, she leaned forward—urged on by his tight grip on her hair—and delivered one long, slow lick across the head of his cock.
He grew longer and thicker before her eyes, and when she did it again—to reward him—his entire body shuddered in reaction. His cock pulsed and jerked against her cheek and she felt—literally felt—the ecstasy raking down his spine with fiery talons. He’d opened up his mind, let her in, and suddenly she was feeling not just her pleasure in touching him, but also his pleasure in being touched.
It was unbelievably erotic, and her own sex pulsed until she burned with the same need to come that was blanketing his mind with a red haze.
Come up here, baby, he whispered in her head. Let me love you. Let me take care of you. I promise I’ll take the hurt away.
His voice was so low, so seductive, so compelling that she was halfway to standing before she realized what he was doing—taking control of her mind, of her body, of her very soul. And though she trusted him more than she’d ever trusted another man, she wasn’t ready to yield control. Not now. Not yet, when she had barely gotten a taste of him.
Sinking back to her knees, she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and slowly stroked up to the velvet tip and then back again. Up and back. But it wasn’t enough, not to put out the flames rippling along every nerve ending in his body, and not enough to satisfy the curiosity that blazed inside her, hotter and more all-encompassing with every second that passed.
Leaning forward, she wrapped her hands around his strong, hair-roughened thighs and gently stroked his sac from behind. He cursed, dark and desperate and vicious, but he didn’t try to block her, didn’t try to stop her from seeing the power she had over him at that moment.
And then he was sending her a picture of her sucking his long, glorious cock deep inside her mouth, his fingers tightening in her hair as he guided her mouth where he needed it to go and his powerful body shuddering while ecstasy claimed him.
It was her turn to moan, her turn to shudder as broken breaths ripped through her. She couldn’t wait any longer, couldn’t tease him the way he had teased her. Instead, she took him in her mouth, sliding him so deep that he bumped the back of her throat.
She sucked gently, trying to find her rhythm, trying to decide what he liked and how the whole thing worked. Then pulled back until he was almost out of her mouth.
He groaned and tugged at her hair, and she followed his cues, her tongue stroking in circles around him while she slid him back in again. When he was all the way inside her mouth, she looked up at him, wanting to see what his need looked like.
His face was white, his jaw clenched, lines of desire etched deeply around his mouth. His eyes were closed, but she was in his mind, could see what he was feeling. His lust was rising, his desire hitting the point of no return, and she loved that she could do this to him. Loved that her mouth and body could bring him to such a conflagration of need.
She wanted more, wanted everything. If she had only a little while with Logan, she would take every new experience he granted her and run with it, savoring it as fully as she possibly could. She wanted to please him, to give him everything, to mark him so that he remember
ed her long after he was gone.
His cock jerked inside her mouth, leaked a little, and she swiped up the pearly drop with her tongue. Savored the warm, earthy taste of him, and the knowledge that she was slowly driving him beyond his control. Hunger ripped through her at the thought, sharp and overwhelming. She wanted to know everything about him, to see and feel and taste his reaction to her.
Pulling back, she delivered a series of long, lingering licks to his cock. She stroked along the broad head with her tongue, circling it and exploring the little slit at the front before she curled her tongue around him and slowly sucked on just the tip, as she would a cherry Popsicle.
He trembled against her, his dick jerking and throbbing against her lips, and she expected him to take control. Expected to feel his hands tighten in her hair as he slammed himself as far into her mouth as he could go. The thought excited her, and she squeezed her legs together in an effort to assuage the ache that was building even as she stoked the flame of his need higher and higher.
But he didn’t take control, didn’t try to seize the moment from her, though it cost him. She could see the stress it caused him to hold back, to let her explore him at her own pace, to let her take as much or as little of him as she wanted.
Suddenly, she wanted all of him, everything, and she dug her nails into the backs of his thighs to let him know she was serious. His eyes flew open, found hers, and that’s when she took him in. Slowly, so slowly that she could feel each ragged breath he took, she drew him into her mouth. His hips jerked hard against her, the muscles of his thighs turning to rock under her fingers. Even his testicles drew closer to his body in reaction.
Need exploded through him, ravenous, rampaging, and his lust fed hers until she was so far gone she could barely think. She was going on pure sensation now, sensation and heat and an instinct as old as dragons themselves.
She ran her tongue up and down his shaft, circled it again and again as she teased the sensitive spot at the underside of his tip that she had discovered only a few minutes before. Then she drew him deep again, sucking strongly and then softly, strongly and then softly, in a rhythm she hoped was making him as crazy as it was making her.
“Cecily.” This time when he said her name it was a demand, and she knew he was running out of patience. She could feel it in the way his hips moved against her, sense it in the whispers of thought—of desire—he sent streaking through her mind. Taste it in the rich liquid leaking over her tongue each time she took him in.
“Shit. Fuck. Darlin’, you can’t do that. You’re going to make me come. You’re going to make me—”
She wanted him to come, wanted to taste him as he splashed into her mouth and down her throat, wanted to feel the spasms work their way through him as he gave his body completely into her keeping.
She sent him her desires on the same mental path he’d used with her, sent him the images and an impression of her wild, aching need.
He groaned, and she swore the hands in her hair had turned to talons. He was close, on the very edge of his control, and she wanted to push him over. Wanted to see what would happen when Logan finally let go completely.
He was on fire, every part of him burning up at the feel of Cecily’s gorgeous, talented mouth on his cock. She was kneeling before him, and something about seeing her like that—seeing the cool, haughty princess so determined to give him pleasure—absolutely blew him away. He was afraid to let her, afraid of losing control and hurting or frightening her. But her mouth felt so good and he was so far gone that it was almost impossible for him to remember that less than two hours before, she had been a virgin.
Shifting his weight so he was balanced on the balls of his feet, he tugged on her hair until her mouth was at just the angle he needed to blow his mind. And then he fucked her in the mouth, hard and fast and deep. Again and again he thrust into her mouth. Again and again she took him. And the pleasure built until he was nearly insane with it, until he was desperate and driven and almost feral with the need to spill himself inside her warm, sweet mouth.
There was a roaring in his ears, a fire in his blood, and suddenly, lightning was sizzling along every nerve ending in his body. His eyes flew open, met hers, and he could see it in her. There was electricity in her eyes, power she’d pulled from the very universe itself and was now feeding to him one small spark at a time, until his entire body was electrified with more pleasure than he had ever imagined possible.
The suspicion that she was an element, a stormcaller, ripped through him, and the look of her there—wild and wicked and so wonderfully comfortable with her power—sent him careening over the edge. He pumped into her mouth once, twice, then came in a huge flood that had him gasping and jerking against her as he emptied everything he was, everything he had to give, as deep inside her as he could get.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The compound was a mess.
The civilians were half-starving.
The security was a joke.
The infighting between the few soldiers he had run across was a nightmare.
And he was really beginning to think that all he had to do was sit back and watch as the whole thing self-destructed. Which he might have been okay with if the lab wasn’t the one place on the compound that was guarded like Fort Knox. And if Cecily wasn’t working herself into the ground trying to get the factionnaires to man the fuck up.
God, this was a fucking nightmare of epic proportions. He’d been a sentry for nearly a hundred years. He’d spent the other two hundred years since he’d left Ireland making money by helping other clans figure out their security woes. He could do what he’d promised Cecily he would. He could help her fix things.
That was the whole problem. Walking around here for twelve hours, seeing the people suffering—part of him wanted to help her fix things, not because he gave a shit about the future of the Wyvernmoon clan, but because somewhere up on that fucking mountain, Cecily had slipped under his defenses. She’d gone from being a means to an end to being his lover, and every instinct he possessed screamed for him to take care of her. For him to help her any and every way he could.
Except helping her was the exact opposite of what he’d come here to do.
Jesus, he was so fucked.
The beast inside him didn’t care. Though it had been completely loyal to Dylan for a hundred years, somewhere in the past seventy-two hours, it had switched allegiances. Now, besides watching Cecily with sharp talons and hungry eyes that had him walking around hard all the time, it also wanted to take care of her.
To comfort her.
To hold her and whisper sweet things to her until she believed that everything was going to be all right.
But it couldn’t do that—he couldn’t do that. Because the sad fact was, in Cecily’s world, nothing was ever going to be okay again. Not if he did his job right.
And he always did his job right.
Oh, the factionnaires had watched him with blood in their eyes when Cecily had introduced him as her new bodyguard at the Dracon Club the first morning. But he was relatively free to walk the compound, and no one had stepped forward publicly to demand that he be fully and properly vetted—a fact that truly surprised him. He had spent a day and a half on his laptop, making sure his background check would pass muster before he even met Cecily. If they had a security expert as good with computers as he was, Logan knew he might run into difficulty, but he had gambled on the fact that a clan as archaic as the Wyvernmoons wouldn’t have anyone like that.
He’d been right. But the triumph he’d expected to feel never materialized, only this omnipresent guilt that was eating him alive.
Logan slammed a door on it, knowing there was no way he could function if he let himself dwell on the absolute despicableness of what he was doing. Cecily had asked him to come back with her because she’d thought he would make a powerful ally. Instead, he was the most competent of enemies.
He didn’t have time for this. He needed to get his head in the game, or even the
most incompetent factionnaires might actually be able to pull one over on him.
For the second time in the past ten minutes, he scanned the area directly around him. And smiled grimly as he realized a third factionnaire had joined the two who had been following him. The sniveling Thierren had finally decided to join the party. He’d wondered how long it would take.
He did a light scan of the other two men’s brains, picked out their names as easily as he would red jellybeans out of the jar on Dylan’s desk. Remy and Acel. And, fuck, were they pieces of work. He’d thought Thierren was bad, but ten seconds inside their brains had him desperately craving a shower.
These were Cecily’s factionnaires? These amoral bastards whose only allegiance was to themselves? This was who she was counting on to help her get her clan back on track? No wonder she’d offered him a job qualifications unseen. A baboon would be better than these assholes.
He shook his head. Since she was keeping them, either she was a lot more naive than he’d thought—which was saying something—or she had a plan that he had not yet been able to piece together.
He was leaning toward the latter option, simply because he had trouble imagining her thinking—even for a second—that these guys were trustworthy. They would slit her throat in a second if it would get them what they wanted, princess be damned. It was her good luck that they felt they needed her—as a figurehead and as a means to ascend to the throne.
Of course, his arrival had put a neat monkey wrench in their plans, which was why three of them were trailing him right now. Not to stop him from messing with the compound or its people—the sad fact was, they couldn’t give a shit about anything but their own power—but to eliminate him as a threat.
His hands went to two of the daggers he carried close to his body, even as he wondered if he should end this now. The only one doing any kind of shielding was that asshole who had tried to hit on Cecily the night before. The other two were ripe for the picking—he could rip their brains apart in ten seconds flat. Which might be a viable option if it wouldn’t tip his hand.