Deep Kiss of Winter (50 page)

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Authors: Kresley Cole

BOOK: Deep Kiss of Winter
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As furious as he was with her, he was still hard. “You don't get to make demands. I do. Do that again.”

She stilled, panting. She'd liked it, yes. But . . . “No. I want it to be like before.” When his every touch had been like a prayer.

“Too late.” He ran his finger over the path his swollen cock had just taken, and she sucked in a breath. “I like you like this, helpless to anything but the passion. Mine to do with as I please.”

“You won't hurt me.” The words trembled from her.

•   •   •

“So sure of that, are you?” Breean asked, and, damn, she was right.

“Physically, yes, but I know you could tear me apart emotionally,” she whispered, and that nearly broke his already shredded heart.

He moved his hands over her spine, riding the ridges. “Such soft skin. Perfect and pale.” Even after what she'd done, he still desired her more than he'd ever desired another. It was shameful.

“Hate me if you want, but look at what you've done to free your people from disease. How can you blame me for trying to save my own?”

Don't soften. Don't you dare soften
. “I would not have tried to kill you to do it.
That
is the difference.”

“How many ways do I have to say it? If I'd wanted to kill you, I wouldn't have given you my blood,” she gritted out.

“Blood that was forbidden for me to accept. Your actions could have damned us all.”

“You've dealt with my blood before.”

“That was different. That was to save you.” His gaze slid over her curves, the elegant slope of her shoulders, the dip of her back, the flare of her hips. His mouth watered.

“No, it wasn't different. You're just being stubborn.”

Flicking her hair out of the way, he bent and licked the base of her neck. She gasped, shivered. His hands tunneled their way to the mattress directly under her. He let one dabble with a ripe little nipple and the other drift down. He should hurt her in some way, but he couldn't seem to make himself do it. As she'd said, she trusted him with her physical well-being.

He strummed her hot center once, twice, never ceasing his play with her nipple. All the while she gasped. But when she began writhing for more, he severed contact, and her gasps became moans.

“Don't worry. I'm not done.” He licked and nipped his way down her back before gripping her ass and giving it the same attention he'd given her
breasts. Soon she was arching into his touch, again seeking more. Seeking something deeper.

Again, he severed the contact. “Are you wet for me?”

“Yes,” she breathed, not even trying to pretend disinterest.

“Going to change bodies?”

“N-no. I've got that under control.”

He knew that. The more they'd made love, the more control she'd gained, until she'd stopped changing unintentionally altogether. “Lift your hips, and I'll kiss you right”—he sank a finger inside her wet sheath—“there.” But he wouldn't let her come. Would he? This had started as revenge. To get her worked up so that he could walk away as she had done, proving to them both that he could. That she meant nothing to him. The more he touched her, however, the more he needed her.

Moaning, she did as commanded.

He didn't move. Not yet, not yet. “Ask me nicely.”
Want me the way I want you.

“Breean,” she groaned, waving that perfect little ass in front of his face. “Kiss.”

“Ask.”

A pause, a suspended heartbeat. “Will you please kiss me?
Please
.”

He'd expected her to protest. Then he could have walked away as planned, leaving her like this. That she hadn't . . . With such a sweet surrender ringing in his ears, he licked his way right into the heart of her, savoring her decadent flavor. Two of his fingers
joined the play, sliding in and out of her, just as his cock yearned to do.

“Stop. I need to touch you, too,” she breathed. “Let me suck you.”

His blood heated another degree. Already she was close to coming, her sex swelling under his tongue. He
had
to stop. He lifted his head, delighting in her aroused flesh. She groaned in frustration and began pumping against the sheets, trying to find release without him.

“Oh, no, you don't.” He crawled up and settled beside her head. He didn't have to say a word. She turned and fitted her mouth over his straining erection. “Don't you dare bite me.”

“Only want you to feel good.”

He gripped the back of her neck, fisting her hair. Just in case. Up and down she glided, her hot, wet tongue nearly undoing him. Those silky strands of hair pulled, and, fearing he was hurting her, he released them, reaching up, gripping the headboard and surging as deep into her throat as he could go. She took him, took all of him, and was still greedy for more, her tongue circling the head of his penis with every upward thrust.

She worked him mercilessly. Within minutes, his muscles were so strained and bunched, so desperate for release that he was transported to a torturous heaven-hell. Too much pleasure, yet not enough. And when he could take it no more, she sucked as hard as she could and he exploded into her mouth, hot seed shuddering from him.

How long passed before he fell back to Earth, he didn't know. Aleaha was still on the bed, still tied, still licking at him. Her hips were moving swiftly against the sheets, seeking the same release he'd just experienced.

Now was the time to walk away, leaving her in pain, needy. But he found that he couldn't do it.

“Breean,” she practically sobbed.

He moved behind her again. Instantly she raised herself in the air.

“Take me,” she said. “Please. I'll beg if you want.”

“No begging,” he said, the words choked. He didn't want her humbled, he realized. He just wanted her to crave him more than she craved air to breathe. He wanted to brand himself on her every cell, make her live only for him. See nothing but him, the agents forgotten the way he sometimes shamefully forgot his own people.

“Tell me. I'll do anything you want. Just please, love me.”

Love her. He feared that he would, now and always. He sank two fingers into her, and she screamed. Not with release, he knew, but with the sheer relief of having something buried inside her heat.

“Like that,” she panted. “More. More.”

“Are you ever going to leave me again?” The question slipped from him before he could stop them.

“No. No!”

He skimmed his thumb over her slickness. Again, she screamed, and the sound of her desire brought him
back to full life, his penis filling and swelling, hardening. “Spread your knees as far as they'll go.”

The ties offered enough slack to allow her to bend her knees and widen them several more inches. She was completely helpless like that, completely at his mercy. He plundered inside without preamble. But then, she was so ready she didn't need more preparation. She arched her hips to meet him, coming the moment he was in to the hilt. She spasmed and spasmed and spasmed, her climax going on forever.

He pounded in and out of her, lost in the pleasure. She was as hot and tight as he remembered, a perfect fit, he thought as he leaned down to kiss her. She turned her head, eager for it, as lost as he was, and their tongues clashed. Kittenish purrs sprang from her throat, her orgasm still rocking her. Their teeth banged, and he tasted the sweetness of her flavor. Like rain and magic, slightly different than usual, but then, her taste and scent were always changing, becoming more central to
her
.

“Mine,” he said, repeating the word he'd uttered the first time he'd seen her. Last time, it had been a mark, a warning for all others to stay away from her. This time he meant it as a promise. He hated himself for it, but there it was. He loved her, had to have her in his life.

“Yours,” she replied. “Good. So good.”

He reached in front of her and circled a fingertip over her clitoris. She came again—or rather, her climax reached another degree of satisfaction. She cried out, and he circled again.

“Breean!”

When he heard his name on her lips,
he
came. Loud, long, the most intense orgasm of his life. As he spurted inside her, they rocked together, locked in a bliss so intense they should have died from it.

For a long while afterward, he didn't move. He just remained in place, inside her, sated, not wanting to ponder what had happened and what he was feeling. Eventually, though, he did have to move. He was probably crushing her.

He unlaced the ties. As she rolled to her back, her hand fluttered over his throat, tracing the still-healing scab. He wanted to lean into her touch, but didn't allow himself the luxury. Already he'd done too much this night.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “For what I did.”

“Perhaps you are merely sorry you were caught.” He hadn't meant to voice his fear; it slipped free of its own volition.

Her gaze clashed with his. “No, that's—”

“Stop. Please.” He couldn't deal with this. Not now. Not after what they'd just done. He needed time. When had he become such a needy female? “I am not going to hold you tonight.” He had on every other night, and it had only made him fall harder for her. Yes. Definitely female. Which was fitting. Aleaha could grow a penis, after all.

For a split second, he saw true hurt in her emerald eyes. But she nodded and inched to the other side of the bed, away from him. His chest ached, seeing her like that.
Don't soften any more.
How many times
would he have to issue the command? He gripped the sheet and tossed it over her lower body.

“Breean—” she began again.

“Go to sleep,” he told her, more harshly than he'd intended. At the very least, he should lock her up with the other agents, but he couldn't force himself to part with her, even now. He wanted her in the room with him, in his sight every moment. To prevent her from causing any more trouble, he rationalized.

So why did he want to apologize for taking her like he had, facing away from him as if she meant nothing? Why did he want to beg for forgiveness for not tucking her in beside him, warm and safe?

He stared up at the vaulted ceiling, trying to block her image. That didn't help. From the corner of his eye, he saw her curl into a ball. Another sharp lance shot through his chest.

“I don't know what to do with you,” he said, more for his benefit than hers.

“You could forgive me,” she said softly. “I had decided to stay, you know.”

Oh, but she was killing him. “Just . . . go to sleep,” he repeated. They'd finish this in the morning, when they had regained their strength.

“And if I don't?” she said, some of her bravado returning. “The big, bad alien will kill me?”

No. The big bad alien might do whatever she wished. She had the courage and audacity of a warrior. She would never stand behind him, but would always fight beside him.

A man could ask for nothing more.

“Your men,” she said with a sigh. She rolled to her back and, like him, stared up at the ceiling. Trying to block
his
image? “I noticed that a lot of them are gone, and I maybe kinda sorta sent the others into town.”

He didn't tell her to be quiet this time; he couldn't summon the will. “The house is wired to an alarm, so their absence won't cause too much of a problem.”

“Well, you should know that there are microphones throughout the entire city. They record constantly and somehow only pick up alien voices. It's the frequency or something, which is different from that of humans. Anyway, when aliens are taken in for questioning, AIR records their voices and plugs them into the system. From that point on, those aliens can be found the moment they speak.”

“Were there microphones in the forest?”

“I honestly don't know. But most likely, yes. That's not public domain, but government, as most forest areas are. Trees are precious because they were nearly wiped out during the human-alien war. Anyway, I'm thinking your voices were recorded that night in the forest. I'm thinking your men can be traced if they talk while in the city.”

Would he ever understand all of the nuances of this world?

Breean sighed. He could go into the city, hunt down his men, and tell them to be quiet, but they'd been making this trip for days now. AIR hadn't found them yet. That he knew of. Damn.

“Why are you telling me this?” Now, of all times.

“Because I just now thought of it. I haven't been an agent for long, you know. Just . . . tell them to be careful.”

Trying to save him now. Would he ever understand
her
? He didn't think so. “Go to sleep, Aleaha. As I said, we'll talk later.”

E
LEVEN

A loud, piercing screech woke her.

Aleaha jolted upright, her muscles protesting at the abruptness of the movement. She grimaced. Breean sat up, too.

“What is that?” she asked.

Scowling, he burst from the bed in a lightning bolt of speed. “Get dressed,” he demanded, moving through the room so quickly she couldn't see him. Not even the glowing outline of his spirit.

“What should I—” A bundle of clothing was tossed at her so abruptly she wasn't able to catch them, and they floated to the mattress around her. Heart pounding, she gathered them up and jackknifed to her feet. Her hands shook as she dressed. “Thank you. Now what's going on?” she asked over the alarm.

“What do you think?” was the grim reply.

Either agents were escaping, or AIR had finally arrived. Fear poured straight into her bloodstream. Fear for Breean. She didn't want him hurt or captured.

“Wait here,” he said, his eyes fierce and golden. He'd already dressed, and even held a pyre-gun. His swiftness amazed her anew. He'd gotten that gun right in front of her, yet she hadn't seen a thing. “Do not even
think
about disobeying me.”

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