Evading (Regent Vampire Lords Book 4) (7 page)

“Don’t fucking care, Giselle.” He leaned down until they were nose to nose and she nearly protested when he withdrew his thumb, but moaned long and loud as he quickly buried two fingers in her instead. Pleasure was building on top of pleasure, spreading like slow-moving tentacles with each lazy stroke of his hand.

“You know what I want right now?”

Words. What were they? Nothing would mesh together in anything that made sense so she just shook her head. Quite frankly, she didn’t give a shit what he wanted as long as he didn’t want to stop.

“I want only you and me in here. In this room, that’s all there is. Can you do that?”

She could only nod. Bliss crowded out everything else because her detective’s fingers never stopped their diabolical caress.

“That’s good, baby because that’s the hard part. The rest is easy. Now I want your tight pussy to clench hard for me and I want you to come until every fucking finger I have is coated with you.”

“Fuck, Mike,” she whispered as white lights started flickering in her peripheral and heat gathered in a violent, swirling firestorm inside the center of her very being.

“Then I want to rip this fucking dress off and have you ride me until your entire body quivers with the need to release. Until you take me right up to that fucking edge and you can’t stand not having my life-giving blood coursing through you for a single second longer. Only then are you allowed to sink those gorgeous teeth in me and milk both my vein and my cock at the same time.”

Jesus.

Countless males had uttered filthy things as they rutted inside her as though she were a detached, inhuman receptacle for their use. Even when her body may have betrayed her, her mind never did. Their words made her feel dirty and degraded, never hot and bothered.

Never like Mike’s sinful commands did.

“I’ll take your silence as agreement.”

She wanted to come back with a smart retort, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything but a never-before-felt ecstasy gaining speed and momentum, threatening to wholly consume her.

Oh God
. Her eyes closed on a roll. Mike Thatcher had finger fucked her before, but it was nothing like this. This was sheer, reverent, mutual love. His emotions bled into her with the force of a thousand moons, wrapping her in their gentle rays. She wanted to float there, revel in them for eternity.

So close.

She was so damn close.

“That’s it. Fall, Giselle. I’ve got you.”

That did it.

She tipped.

She let go completely, trusting him to catch her.

Her body shook and convulsed as bolt after bolt of lightning raced like gunshots through her muscles, firing out her fingertips and toes over and over and again. She felt wrecked. Blown utterly apart. But in a way she felt reborn, not subjugated and used.

Brutal, beautiful pleasure was all that was left behind and she basked in its warmth for seconds or minutes or maybe even days.

Lost in a sex haze, she hadn’t realized Mike had eased off her until she felt his tongue pressing where his fingers had just been.

Oh holy God.

It felt so fucking good.

For as often as she was violated, she was highly inexperienced sexually. Oral was off the table completely unless a male wished for his cock to be laying in a bloody, fleshy heap at his feet or his neck to be snapped. And she’d never been taken missionary style. They also knew better than to get too close to her fangs or their voice boxes would be viciously crushed under her bite. She’d never been caressed or kissed or stroked with gentle, loving touches.

She was glad her detective was the first. He’d be first in so many things.

Mike’s groan slammed her back to the present, where she should be. He gripped her thighs so hard, she knew she’d bruise if she were human.

“Fuck, I knew you’d taste like this.”

“Like what,” she gasped. Rising on her elbows she watched her Fated devour her like she was his last and best meal, working against the spiral of want he was delightfully spinning in her. She started to get dizzy with the need to come again.

His eyes swept up, bolting to hers. “Sweet. Addictive. Like you belong to me.”

“I do,” she whispered on a hoarse breath.

“Fuck, yeah, you do. Now show me.”

Then his mouth latched onto her clit and he sucked. And he bit. And he tugged. And he circled her with his tongue relentlessly until she was crying out, grinding against his face with unreserved abandon as her next release swept her completely downstream in a torrent of love and acceptance and hope.

Tears flowed down the side of her face while she rocked against Mike’s mouth, each flick of her hips getting slower and less aggressive until she was finally spit out from the rapids into calm, smooth waters.

Giselle floated blissfully and safely on a tightly woven raft of euphoria, truly unencumbered and free for the first time since…since ever.

And while she had a long way to go, with each droplet she blinked that spilled and ran through her hair, soaking into the fabric beneath her, she did exactly what her Fated instructed.

With his help, she began to let the past go, feeling cleaner than she ever had before.

H
e watched her give in
, then glow brighter than the North fucking Star.

Giselle was blinding and he would never see the same way again. Didn’t care to.

She was the planet his moon would revolve around for eternity. The revolutions would be bumpy as hell, like some goddamned worn-out carnival ride, but he didn’t give a shit. He’d weather anything for her. He would lay down his life for her. He would carve out his own bloody heart and hand it to her, still beating if that’s what she asked of him. He would annihilate friend or foe, human or vampire or werewolf or fucking aliens to protect what was his.

He finally understood what Devon and the other Lords felt about their mates. Protective. Possessive. Animalistic. And fuck them if they said he didn’t have a clue because he didn’t live on plasma and dissolve into a million tiny pieces to travel.

He knew.

He
knew
.

When you knew within your soul of souls you would ruthlessly carve down anything in your path to keep the woman you love, you were done. Stick a fucking carving fork in you. There was no turning back. “Back” wasn’t even a possibility anymore, because when you spin around, it’s completely blank behind you as if it was never there in the first place. It’s simply a white, empty void without meaning or purpose.

She was now your momentum, the singular force that drove you forward.

She was the idol you prayed to each night before you drifted off.

She was the very air you filled your lungs with.

He finally got it.

His little minx moaned softly. He watched her glassy eyes open, trying to focus on him. Her soft, contented smile was literally his undoing.

She was happy.
Happy
. Because of him.

Giselle was always stunning. So fucking beautiful it was hard to believe she was real sometimes. But tonight, she looked positively otherworldly lying in a glowy, sated puddle on his bed.
His
bed.

He’d been here before, yes, but this time was different.

He’d
felt
it.

He’d felt what she did. It was hard to believe or comprehend and he’d been trying to deny it. Each time she gave herself over to him, he’d felt her anxiety and her pleasure. But tonight was a hundredfold over what he’d experienced before. It vibrated through his very bones and embedded itself into the sticky marrow. It hung in his mind, settled permanently in his drawn-up balls.

And he knew it had everything to do with the fact they’d both finally stopped fighting the idea of them, embracing it instead.

It felt phenomenal to see her this way. He wanted more. He wanted it all. Every-fucking-thing he never thought he’d get. And he would gladly walk through hell for it.

Again.

“Hi,” she said quietly, that goofy soft turn still on her swollen lips.

“Hi,” he croaked.

He was hard as fuck.

Ached so goddamned bad he was positive he was going to explode right now.

The thought of pushing inside Giselle’s tight pussy and driving her to scream his name repeatedly practically ate him alive, but he also understood this was the hard part for her, so tonight he was taking a slightly different approach, one he hoped didn’t backfire like the tailpipe of a rusted-out junker. Like the night he told her he loved her for the first time.

Mike shed the remainder of his own clothes. Crawling back into bed, he leaned his back against the headboard and let his legs fall open, his erect shaft bobbing against the taut muscles of his abs. His skin vibrated with the need to claim her, own her, to bind her to him for all of fucking forever.

“Take your dress off,” he demanded while palming his painfully throbbing dick. He needed some relief, even if his fist wasn’t what he wanted strangling him.

Her bewitching orbs widened in surprise and he waited for it. His witchy woman didn’t disappoint—she never did. She cocked her head, crooked her mouth just so. “That sounded like you were telling me what to do,” she said bitingly.

“I was,” he piped back. He let his eyes drop briefly to where her dress still covered her upper half. She had pushed herself into a sitting position on the bed, but her pussy was still nice and spread open. And wet. Very fucking, deliciously wet. “The dress, Giselle. It needs to go. Right fucking now before I tear it off.” Urgent need threaded his tone. He heard it. So did she.

Giselle stood and shimmied the tight sheath back down over her hips, covering the come that was slicked all over her inner thighs. She kept her unreadable eyes peeled on him. For long, drawn-out seconds he panicked that he’d made the wrong decision. That he’d pushed her too far and she’d just evaporate on him again.

But
Giselle
needed to do this. He may have issued the orders, but they both knew she was really the one in control here. That’s what she desperately needed. She had to give herself to him…know she had the power and willingly hand it over. He couldn’t just take because, without a shadow of a doubt, other men had taken from her before. They’d taken something she didn’t want to give.

That thought sent white-hot molten rage scorching through his blood until it boiled over and scalded his insides black. He wanted to hunt down every one of those motherfuckers and end them. He wished he could mercilessly and agonizingly bleed them and watch the life slowly leach from their spineless eyes while they begged for their pathetic, damned souls.

Just when he thought she’d leave him high and dry for the countless time with the bluest balls known to mankind, she reached behind and painstakingly drew down the grey metal zipper on her tiny black leather dress. The move caused it to gape ever so slightly from her amazing tits. His mouth watered at the thought of tasting them again. In fact, he had yet to see her entire body naked for him at one time and the vision of perfection he imagined made a few beads of pre-cum leak from his mushroom tip.

“You’re very overbearing, especially in the bedroom.” The words held nothing but sweet fucking submission. An unknown concept to Giselle.

He lunged forward, palmed her nape, and pulled her close until their noses touched. “You need it. You need one place to just give in and give up your staunch control, Giselle, and know that it won’t be taken advantage of. That you have someone who loves your soul and reveres your body like it’s a fucking temple to be worshipped, which it is.”

Her smile was fleeting and tender. Once again, he felt as if he’d said and done the right thing. He dropped his hold and eased back to gauge her next move.

Anxiety.

Tension.

Awe.

Love.

Heady, fucking, intoxicating desire.

They mixed together and rolled off her in crashing sprays, dousing him from head to toe in every potent emotion she felt.

Mike began jacking himself again, slow and steady. When her gaze dropped to his stone-hard erection and she licked her lips, his control nearly shattered. “I’m going to come all over myself in a minute and I’d much rather come inside of you, so what’s it going to be, baby? Us or them?”

When her bewitching blues snapped back to his, he saw it before she said it.

Thank fucking God.

“Us. It’s going to be us.” Her velvet voice bled seduction, luring him in thoroughly. Reaching up, she hooked her thumbs in the caps of her sleeves and gracefully pushed the dress all the way down.

Her impeccable tits popped out first. Her nipples were the shade of milk chocolate, a shade darker than the furrowed areolas surrounding them. The tight little points protruded from the most flawlessly shaped spheres he’d ever seen. Fucking perfection, she was. Every creamy bit of her.

Ever so slowly, Giselle worked the leather down her torso and over her curvaceous hips. She was now taunting, teasing and if the cheeky smile on her face was any indication, she was enjoying it.

He was mesmerized. In a fucking trance watching every fluid shift of her sexy-as-hell curves until she finally—
finally
—stood completely bared before him.

Giselle was always cocky and self-assured. She walked with a confident swagger on her hips and surety set between her shoulder blades. Her mouth was fixed in a permanent smirk. Her head always rode high and proud. But all he saw right now was an emotionally stripped-down, vulnerable woman who needed reassurance. His woman was such a contradiction, it made his head spin.

Giselle started toward him, but he held up his hand. “Stop.” When she nervously bit her lip he added, “Just give me a minute to drink in the very definition of perfection, Giselle.”

Raw desire glassed over her hooded eyes, brightening the pigment so much he was hypnotized. “Come here,” he muttered, holding out his hand. Easing them back, he pulled her atop of him. Her slick folds cradled his pulsing dick perfectly and it screamed in agony for relief, yet he held fast. This was Giselle’s world; he was just living in it now. No, not just living. Basking. Savoring every second that her royal eyes raked over him like she was barren without him.

He devoured her in return.

Giselle. His regal queen.

She sat high on his hips.

Thighs clamped. Pussy quivering. Body flushed. Breath sharp.

Perching her fingertips on his pecs, she scored his flesh lightly with her razor-tipped nails. With a drawn-out breath, she tilted her head back and her eyes closed in unmistakable ecstasy, but she didn’t move. So, neither did he.

Oh shit, it was hard, though. He wanted to move. Just a slight shift of his hips and he’d be engulfed in her hot, hot pussy, probably coming within seconds.

Locking his seed securely in his balls, he stretched his arms, cupped her face, and tilted it down. “I love you, Giselle. So very much,” he told her softly, patiently.

Her eyes popped open and met his. He waited. He didn’t know which Giselle he’d get when she finally decided to open that smart mouth of hers, but it didn’t matter. He’d take any of them. Wanted them all. So he just waited. “I love you, too,” she finally echoed.

Fuuuuuck.

Not what he was expecting.

Now
his
eyes fell shut.

He was a solid mass of the purest, basest fucking joy a person could possibly fathom. No three words in the history of life ever sounded as lyrical as the woman he was mad for telling him she loved him back right before he was getting ready to sink inside her for the first time, making her his. It was almost poetic or some shit he didn’t even know about.

When he pried his lids open, Giselle was staring at him with raw, do-me-right-now hunger. The way her front teeth sank into her bottom lip drawing a slight amount of blood and how she shifted toward him ever so slightly was an open invitation. He’d wanted to give her the reins so she could take this at her pace, but it was so obvious she was gifting them back to him instead.

Instinct took over then. Jackknifing up, he slanted his mouth over hers and took. He took her moans and made them his. He stole her pleas and tucked them away. Ate her sighs as an appetizer. He now owned each svelte bit of flesh he passed over. The slope of her shoulders, the swell of her breasts, the roundness of her cheeks, the silkiness of her luscious pussy. All of it. His.

“Every square inch of this is mine,” he breathed before taking a nibble from Giselle’s supple throat, living inside her low moan. Her nipples stabbed into his chest like pointy diamonds. They needed to be sucked. Hard. “Every fucking one of them,” he croaked.

Laying her on her back, he rose over her. Her skin was bright pink, her chest heaving, her lidded eyes begging. He wanted to do so many savage, wicked, dirty things to her. He wanted to discipline her for endlessly tormenting him the past few months. He wanted to lay claim to her soul, stain her heart, corrupt her thoughts. He wanted to fuck her in the dirtiest of ways, adoring her in the sweetest ones only when he’d sated the devil inside.

Tonight needed to be the latter, though. He needed to shelve his primal instinct to devour her. He’d have the rest of his life for raunchy and obscene. Mike didn’t really know how vampires married, but he planned to find out because no matter what it took, she was his permanently.

“I’m going to make love to you, Giselle. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” was barely a whisper.

“I’m going to be the first man to do that, aren’t I?” he asked softly.

She nodded, hesitant, almost as if she was embarrassed.

He wasn’t. He was a competitive bastard and loved he was first.

“Good,” he said, his voice husky, before leaning down to kiss her plump lips. Running his tongue along her seam, she opened and he took advantage. He tasted. He gently dominated. He owned her forked tongue the way he did the rest of her. “I’m glad.”

“I ache, Mike.” Giselle squirmed and writhed beneath him, her liquid curves a deadly siren song to the wrong prey.

“I know, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

Mike’s thumbs grazed the peaks of her breasts on the descent past the nip of her tiny waist to the swell of her hips before traveling to the curve of her smooth ass. Squeezing each taut globe, he tilted her hips and wedged himself between her split legs.

“Condom?” he asked at the last second, hoping like hell she’d say no.

When she shook her head, he lined the head of his weeping dick up with her saturated hole, bent to suck a bronzed beaded nipple into his mouth, and began to ease in. Instinctively, he knew it was going to be a tight fit, but once he was fully seated she would glove him perfectly.

But as she swallowed inch after inch of his shaft, nothing could have prepared him for this ethereal, rare beauty named Giselle.

Jesus H. Christ.

His senses were on overload.

She tasted creamy and tart under his tongue.

She felt like the fiery floors of hell, but also, the gateway to heaven clenched so goddamned snug around his cock. He had to breathe through his nose or blow his load before he’d taken his first stroke.

“Giselle. Fuck. Holy shit you feel amazing.”

She was so wet, so goddamned wet and so hot. So tight and hot and wet.