Gods, he was telling her way too much, because it was way too easy, talking to her, being with her. The desire to share all he knew was astonishing, and damnable. He went to the bar and grabbed a bottle of vodka. “Don’t worry about those guys. They keep to themselves.”
She got out of the hammock and approached the bar with a hesitant manner. “Are you regretting you’ve told me too much?”
“No. I just…don’t want to scare you.”
“You haven’t.” She reached with both hands and covered one of his. “But my head is spinning a little. We don’t have to talk about the underworld anymore.”
His skin burned between her icy palms and he pulled it out. He finished pouring a shot and downed it. “I think you know more than most, now.”
Her hands eased back and a question in her eyes had him regretting his sharp tone. Just when he was about to apologize, she reached over and grabbed a bottle of red wine. “Share it with me? I haven’t had a glass of vino in ages.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea with your medication?” he asked. But at her chastising look he added, “Then again, wine is good for the heart. It’s a 2010 Chateau de Beaucastel. It was the rarest I could find in Spencer’s vast collection.”
“Rare wine to go with my rare disease. Maybe they will complement each other.”
He huffed at her twisted humor, shaking his head and pulling out a corkscrew. He filled two glasses.
While she sipped, she held his gaze, unmistakable attraction glowing in them. He was mesmerized while he drank the wine and finished it. Gods, I want to seduce her.
She blushed, as though she could see the direction his thoughts had taken. When she turned away, he drew in a deep breath, wondering if he should end the night here and now, and take her back to the hospital.
While he silently debated, she found an outdoor stereo and turned on the radio, smiling, apparently recognizing the song that poured from the speaker. Some love ballad with a sexy harmony.
She looked over at him, cocking her head. “Dance with me?”
He smiled. Take her back? Out of the question.
He set down his glass and went to her, gently pulled her in his arms, and slid an arm around her waist. Gods be damned. With their bodies aligned like this, he was lost in aching. The slow burn that had begun earlier was now a full-on fire. As they swayed, he rubbed the small of her back with his thumb and grazed her temple with his lips, the wisps of hair tickling his upper lip.
She gave a weak sound and pressed even closer, sliding her fingers along the back of his neck.
This wasn’t going to end as a dance. She’d lured him in innocently, but it would not end so.
Knowing he’d stop the second she told him to, he ran his palm down her back, over the curvature of her butt. A soft curse left his lips. She wore no panties under the pajama bottoms.
Gaelen lifted her lashes, gazing with lustful hope in her eyes, parting her lips. Sensitive to human emotions, he could feel her desperation, her yearning to get physical.
He wouldn’t deny her.
After all, her desire for intimacy mirrored his own. As the song came to an end, he slipped his hands across her jaw and tilted her face up. He kissed her softly, finally tasting those perfect lips, wanting more, but holding back.
“I’m not fragile,” she whispered. “Kiss me like you mean it.”
Before he could respond, she opened her mouth and snaked her tongue with his, holding his neck firm. He groaned, overcome, matching her urgency, turning his head, the flavor of her instantly addicting.
“Fitz,” she moaned, pulling back, trembling. “Oh, God, I can’t believe I’m going to ask this…”
“When you want something, never hesitate. You can’t shock me.”
Even with that encouragement, she still couldn’t find the words or maintain eye contact. “But you’ll do it because you feel sorry for me. I don’t want that.”
“What do you want me to do?” He curled a finger under her chin to make sure she met his gaze.
She let out a shaky breath, licked her lips. “I’ll be beyond humiliated if you say no.”
“You won’t know the answer until you do.” And she had to say it out loud, in case he was wrong. After all, she might be fighting to ask him to turn her into a vampire. Never make assumptions where women are concerned.
Suddenly, as though a rush of boldness swept over her, she blurted, “Will you make love to me?”
Thank the gods. “Of course I will. But are you sure?” He cupped her chilled hands and kissed her fingers.
“Are you? I’m sick and—”
“And yet I want you so much I can barely touch you without shaking.” He touched his forehead to hers. “Besides, you’re not dying of the plague and you’re not covered in boils. As long as you think you can handle lovemaking, there is zero hesitation from me.”
She looked down, fingering his shirt shyly. “There’s no need to worry about protection. My mysterious ailment made sure I couldn’t conceive. It’s impossible because my blood would reject any sort of life.”
A sick feeling stabbed his stomach. More unfairness for her. “I see. It matters not. I can’t get you pregnant. My gods would never allow it.”
“Oh.” She offered a weak smile. “Your gods? How many are there?”
“Nine. They grant children, and they only do it to avowed, or fated, couples. Never human to vampire.” It was lovely to imagine her with child, with a full belly and that special human glow. Why did her life need to end? He kissed her forehead. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
While he cursed her unfortunate fate, he walked in Spencer’s apartment, dismissing any reservations in the back of his mind, the kind that questioned if what he was about to do was sensible for either of them. Afterward, could he really just drop her off, wish her well and walk away, unaffected? Was it really going to be just sex and farewell?
Well. It’d have to be. He couldn’t offer more than that.
After finding a sheet and a fleece throw, he returned to the courtyard, and stopped.
Gaelen was on the daybed, nude, lounging on her side and holding the sheepskin to her chest, barely covering her breasts.
Now he was the one tongue-tied.
After setting the sheet and blanket down, he slowly walked toward her, keeping his eyes locked on hers. While she watched, he removed his shoes, pulled his shirt over his head, and undid his jeans. Her mouth formed a little “o” once he dropped his boxer briefs.
There was a lot of him; he hoped it didn’t intimidate her. But then she scooted closer to the edge, holding the throw loosely to her chest with one hand, her gaze mapping his body as though she wanted to memorize it.
With her free hand, she placed the tip of her middle finger on his pec and trailed a sinuous line down his abs, his muscles contracting with it. She bit her bottom lip and took her time, and while he struggled not to make a move, the energy between them was sparking invisibly around him. Pure and electric. The invisible line of fire she’d created sent a bolt straight to his dick, hard and high against his stomach.
“You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” she said breathlessly. “I’m sure you’ve been told that before?”
Gods, she had no idea what true beauty was. He started to come down toward her, and she lay back, moving the sheepskin throw away and finally baring her body to him.
Grazing his palms from her calves to her stomach, he marveled at the silkiness of her skin, the dark nipples of her breasts peaked and ready for his mouth. He dipped his head and licked one, eliciting a shocked gasp from her, then did it again, cupping it and molding his lips around her nipple, sucking tenderly. His aim was to take his time, make her so wet and aroused she’d weep with her orgasm.
Her tentative fingers found the back of his head, light and feathery, holding him, while she arched her back and little noises of pleasure.
Kissing his way down her body, he went to his knees in front of the daybed and brought her closer to the edge
. He grazed his nose along her skin, planting open-mouth kisses along her lower stomach, to her slit lightly covered in dark, trimmed hair.
She wriggled slightly.
“Do you not want me to?” he asked.
Her legs started to part slowly. “Yes. I do.”
He kissed her inner thighs, eager to taste her most intimately. He parted the folds and licked her, eliciting a cry of pleasure from her. Fuck. Even the center of her was sweet, just like her kiss. As he moved his tongue on her, he maneuvered his hands under her ass to partially lift her. Her knees fell wider.
“Oh, oh, you don’t know how good that feels,” she moaned.
I’ve barely gotten started, he thought with a private smile.
Seeking her clit with his tongue, he flicked it at a few times, then sucked, repeating this, while she praised him with incoherent words, rubbing her heels on the bed. Enjoying the way she thrashed and moved her hips against his mouth, he decided he could do this for hours, if he had hours to spare. When she bowed her back like it’d been pulled by a string and trembled with a startled gasp, he knew she was about to come.
Usually, he’d stop loving her with his mouth, torture her a little. It drove women crazy. They’d get aggressive, demand his cock, and ride him recklessly for that orgasm he’d denied them. But not with Gaelen; he wanted to do all the work so that when she fantasized about sex, no other male would enter her mind. The silent goal made him lick with more fervor.
She sat up, resting on one hand, using the other to rake his hair and hold his head between her legs. “I’m going to come,” she moaned.
He responded with deeper licks. Her cries grew in volume, short and quick, before she clenched a fistful of hair, bucked her hips, and let out the longest cry of reckless climaxing he’d ever heard. Her clit convulsed on his tongue, her wetness saturating his chin.
With a smile tugging at his mouth, he planted his palms on either side of her thighs and licked a trail from her belly to her breasts, then met her gasping mouth.
Tongues tangled slow and deep while she lay back and he climbed on top of her, resting his cock at her wet sex. As much as he wanted to push in and chase his own pleasure, kissing her gave him plenty of it. They kissed at length, learning and exploring, with tugs on one another’s lips, tongues delving and tasting.
All he wanted to do was worship her. He pressed his mouth over every inch of her body, and trailed his fingers along every part, learning what made her sigh, what made her giggle, what made her quiver, leaving no inch untouched. She was so responsive to every caress, nip, and lick, and in turn kissed his collarbone, neck, and squeezed his ass more than once. She wriggled beneath him, raising her hips to his, rubbing her folds along his iron shaft.
A tremor coursed through him.
Gaelen was done with foreplay, and by the gods, so was he.
Vowing to be gentle, he put the blunt head of his cock just inside, watching her eyes widen as he started to push in.
Damn. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second. He assumed she’d be tight, but not this much. “Gaelen—”
She dug her fingers in his shoulders. “Keep going.”
“But I know this will hurt, and I swore I wouldn’t cause you pain.”
“Fitz, no. I know what pain is. This doesn’t come close.” She gripped his ass, encouraging him to push inside her more. “I want you inside me. All of you.”
That was all the affirmation he needed. He nodded, fitting his mouth over hers, and with a slow thrust, filled her.
She whimpered, started pumping her hips, wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs around his butt. Her tight sheath around him and sweet lips grazing his cheek was going to make him come much too soon. But he’d do his damnedest to make sure she did again first.
They moved together in a steady rhythm. Slow at first, then increasing, and slowing down again.
It was maddening and awesome.
He kissed her collarbone, her chin, and bored his gaze into hers. He’d never done that before. Looked into a woman’s gaze while he fucked her. Never cared to. But it was amazing seeing the passion in her eyes while he fed her body its needs. His heart lurched at the connection forming between them. Emotional and undeniable. Their hands intertwined and he held her down, pistoning his hips, his balls giving that telltale sign of a promised climax.
Just then, the clouds released a drizzle of rain and a light mist slicked his body. He reached for the sheet and used it to cover them, then slid his arms under her shoulders to hold her close to him, kissing her. Going to her neck, he slid his mouth along her damp and sweaty skin, loving the flavor and texture of her. It was beginning to make him emotional and possessive. That wasn’t like him.
“Oh, Fitz.” She bent her head back over the edge of the daybed, gasping with every thrust, a smile stretching her mouth as rain spritzed her face. Riveted, he watched the euphoria in her expression as she climaxed again, clutching his shoulders.
The combination of her hands running up and down his rain-slicked back, her cries in his ear, the absolute heaven of fucking her, and Fitz could no longer hold back, driving in deep and hard, gritting his teeth.
They painfully itched to grow, sink in her throat. Take her, a voice demanded. Take her! “Gaelen…ah, gods…” A growl started in his chest as massive pulses of sweet torture racked him. Sweating and heaving, every muscle in his body burned. He let out anguished cries of ecstasy, continuing to rock his hips, extending every moment.
Panting for breath, he came, hot and long and with the greatest blast of euphoria. He laid his head in the crook of her shoulder, utterly enthralled, long after the intense pleasure drifted away.
Once sanity returned, he eased up and kissed the tip of her nose. “Are you okay?”
Her lashes were dotted with drops tiny of rain, her eyes bright. She ran a hand down the side of his face.
He got up and pushed the daybed under the part of the awning that was tented and moved their clothes so they wouldn’t get wet.
Desperate to have her back in his arms again—their time together growing shorter—he climbed in and held her to him, her head on his chest. Content, he toyed with the ends of her damp hair.
Now this was his idea of paradise. Outside, on the roof, with a lovely woman draped over him, and wine within reach. Stretching his arm, he grasped the bottle and took a swallow of the vintage.
Gaelen started to sit up and some of the wine spilled on his chest.
She bent her head and licked it off his pec. “Mmm. Sweet Fitz sweat and Chateau.” She climbed on his lap and took the bottle from him, bringing it to her lips.
With her naked and astraddle, the sight of her nipples tightening from the cold, he was hard again. So soon after the greatest orgasm of his life. He slid a hand at her nape and brought her in before she finished swallowing. Some of the wine spilled from their lips while they kissed. It snaked from her chin down her throat and chest. As she bent back, he licked the leftover wine from her breasts to her neck, bringing her up again.
Her little seductive giggle renewed his desire. “I want you again, angel,” he admitted with a bit of helplessness in his voice. He couldn’t believe how badly, but he wouldn’t push her.
“So I see,” she said, glancing at his cock. She rose on her knees and positioned her center at the head of his stiff cock, slowly coming down, gloving him.
He hissed, then groaned, his eyes rolling in the back of his head, toes curling.
Holy shit. He lay fully on his back while she rocked with erotic undulations, flattening her palms on his chest. Gripping her ass, he moaned with every rise and fall of her hips, her pussy squeezing every sensitized inch of his dick.
She bent down, licking his throat.
He thrust up for a deeper, faster fuck, but she wouldn’t have it, keeping it slow. The vixen. Growling, he flipped her to her back, drove in hard, and she groaned. Pinching one of her little nipples, he rocked her with long, rhythmic pumps.
She moaned on and on whi
le he stroked in and out of her, eventually pulling out and hoarsely commanding she turn over.
With a salacious smile, she complied, lifting her ass before his eyes.
He gripped his member with one hand, teasing her pussy by rubbing his head along her slit.
“Fitz. You are no devil, but you are evil,” she groaned, raking her hands to the back of her skull. “Stop teasing. I want you inside me. Now.”
Chuckling low, he spread her knees farther apart, entering her slowly. He intended to do this at a tender pace, but she demanded more, faster.
Thrusting in and out of her only guaranteed he wouldn’t be able to last, especially with her crying out like that. Sweat ran down the side of his face. He gripped her hips as her ass bounced off his groin. Bending over, he sought her clit with his finger.
Panting, she stretched out her arms and fisted the blanket. He circled her little nub, pumping his hips. She screamed her ecstasy, throwing her hair back. Just a few more thrusts, and he was ripped apart from the inside out, spilling inside her.
They collapsed on their stomachs, facing one another.
She smiled at him, smoothing a lock of hair from his brow.
Never before had a female looked at him like that. Not once in his two-hundred plus years. She looked flushed, had a radiance about her. How could this stunning creature be dying?
While he gazed at her, a small trail of blood came out from her nostril, and his brows lowered. “Gaelen…?”
He reached for her, but she realized what was happening and bolted up, turning her back.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. Had he done that to her? Pushed her too hard? If so, he’d never forgive himself. He moved around her, but she avoided his inspection.
“It’s okay. I’m fine.”
The smell of blood trickling from her nose was potent, rich with iron. He rushed to the bar and found a clean hand towel.
“Don’t look,” she said after accepting the towel. “I don’t want you to see this.”
“Blood hardly turns me off.”
She raised her gaze to his. “I know, it’s just…it isn’t cool. Please don’t look at me like that. It happens. It’s not your fault.” After a minute, she sniffed, testing her nose for more. “I think it’s over.” She climbed off the daybed to wash her face in the sink.
Fitz: Immortal Forsaken Series #3 (Paranormal Romance Novella) Page 3