Married (35 page)

It was as close to surrender as she may ever get. Silviu’s fingers tightened on her nipples and they swelled under his grip. He pulled them, plucked at them, as need shattered his intentions. Primal instincts clawed his mind, sent his mouth crashing into hers, claiming as he tasted, demanding as he conquered.

She opened for him and liquid fire poured over him. There was no more room for politics and power plays between them. Their tongues dueled, sliding over each other like slick velvet, reaching for something neither knew how to describe.

He felt every lick of her tongue in his cock as she echoed the nipping motions of her lips with hard squeezes around his length, and mimicked every suckle with the kneading of his balls. Silviu thumbed her nipples without mercy, driving them both deeper into the flames.

Lava boiled in his shaft and leaked from the tip to coat her palm. He pulsed in her hand, needing more, dancing closer to his climax with every draw of her lips on his tongue. Desperate, he ripped his mouth from hers and sent the hard edge of his teeth raking down her neck. Georgie’s head tipped back, her spine arched, pushing her breasts into the forefront of his thoughts.

His lips closed around her nipple and she cried out. Silviu felt the tremor shake her small body, felt her leg tense where it pressed to his. He sucked hard and thumbed her other nipple harder. She twisted against him, pressing deeper into his mouth.

Georgie shifted over him in a quick, jerky move that had his hips bucking to meet her. Her thighs slid over his, her hands released him to shoot up over his torso to his shoulders. She caught his nape and used it as leverage to climb onto his lap, fitting her slippery folds to the length of his cock.

Dangerous.

Silviu wrapped his arm around her hips, anchoring her against him to dispel some of the temptation, to limit the range of her motion. If she slid over him the right way, he would be in perfect position to sink into her.

He wasn’t strong enough to resist a second time. A wise man knew his limits.

She jerked against him, rotating her hips, pleasuring her clit with his cock. She leaned back, trusting him to hold her up. Silviu slid one hand down her back to brace her as he feasted on her breast. Georgie’s fingernails sank into his scalp.

“I want your magic,” she moaned.

Her belly slid against his. He licked her nipple and raised his head. It was all he could do to refuse, but Silviu’s desires went deep and impressing her with his own ability ranked high on his list of priorities. “No. I want you to feel
me
. I want to make you come without magic, Georgeanne. Just me.”

She snuggled into his chest, the hard tips of her breasts stabbing through his hair to abrade his nerves. She pressed completely against him, her thighs, soft belly, hard nipples. Her breath coasted over his lips and her fingers grasped his hair. She undulated and flexed her spine, caressing his cock with every inch of her slick, creamy skin, a fine friction strumming his nerves.

Deliberately, she lifted again, forcing Silviu to give her a minimum of space between their intimate flesh. She rolled her hips and sweat rolled down his back. His lids fell but didn’t close completely—he wanted to watch the flow of emotion in her black eyes.

Georgie was open to him in that moment, unable to hide her desires, her lust or her trust. Unable to stop the full range of her affection for him from glimmering in the bottomless depths of her eyes. They widened as she slipped her clit over his length and her lips parted, air rushing between them. He forced himself to stop her before she went too far.

Hot and wet, she slid against him, over and over. The heat of her, her swollen clit compressing his flesh, layered her texture into his soul. Her labia swelled and enfolded his cock, her pussy wept until Silviu was slippery with her cream, sliding easily against the softest skin he’d ever known.

Her moment of control vanished as quickly as it had been gained. Slow rolls of her hips disintegrated into hard jerks, her fingernails scored his scalp. Silviu shifted the hand he’d clenched on her ass, sending his finger down into the dark chasm, trailing over heated flesh that flinched under his touch.

He kept going and Georgie lowered to him again. She lost the strength to keep the small distance between them and the pressure of her silken flesh covering his dick nearly tossed Silviu’s self-sacrifice out of the window. He gritted his teeth and slipped through her honey.

He circled his fingertip around her entrance, feeling the little spasms working around the muscle. Saturating his finger, he pressed in, every thought in his head exploding under the sheer pressure of her walls, squeezing around his knuckle. Silviu nearly lost his mind.

Her pussy clenched and flooded, rippling over his finger in almost painful waves. Her hips jerked brutally, driving her clit over his flesh in tiny jolts. He caught Georgie’s scream with his mouth, swallowing her cries as her fingernails clawed his head. Her back arched and held, her hips pumped in fierce lurches that went nowhere as he ruthlessly held her contained.

Georgie’s thighs tensed and relaxed, her fingernails excavated themselves from his skull. Her mouth went slack before finding a gentler rhythm, licking his tongue lazily while her body flowed onto his. She drooped to his chest, her spine going soft beneath his hand.

He held her, taking care of her in her most vulnerable moment, pleased that she trusted him enough to support her while her thoughts were disorganized and her body was too weak to defend itself. Her pussy gave a final squeeze around his finger as he withdrew it.

A moment later, tension returned to her frame. She pulled from his kiss with clinging lips, her wide eyes lifting to meet his. Subtly, she shifted over his still-rigid cock. The expression in her eyes changed, solidified into devious intent.

“Your turn, Silver.” She pushed off his lap and bent over, shuffling backward as her hands stroked over his thighs.

Profound gratitude filled him when she didn’t tease him. Her lips slipped over the head of his dick, her tongue laid against him, and she took him deep, the way he’d taught her to. Silviu curved his fingers around Georgie’s skull, needing an anchor but fighting to keep his hold gentle.

She wrapped him in wet silk with tight lips, a clever tongue and cheeks hollowed with the force of her suction adding to his pleasure. He slid deep, she pulled back, then drove down until the tip of him slid against the softest tissue at the back of her hot mouth. It was heaven, it was hell.

It was too much. Silviu was too close to the edge, too well-primed by the feel of her slick folds sliding over him, her swollen clit digging into him and the surrender of her trust into his keeping. He would have loved more time to savor the heat of her mouth, to appreciate the texture of her tongue against his flesh but she sucked hard and moaned, sending soft vibrations too close to magic to be anything less than suspect down his length. The pleasure and pain of her—of her dominance and her resolve to stand apart from him—collided. She’d given him as much as she was able to right then, he would have to be patient to earn the rest.

It was enough. He wanted her, claimed her, had her. Silviu felt Georgie’s responding claim in every inch of his cock and knew she felt her power over him in that moment, by the look in her eyes and the motion of her lips on him. The physical plucked at emotions he didn’t dare examine too closely, heated them, added pressure and shot them into the base of his spine.

Pleasure took him in a roaring wave. His back muscles convulsed, his balls clenched and his cock flexed hard. Ecstasy tunneled down the length of him to explode on her tongue as she swallowed and moaned for more. Milking him, gripping his pulsing balls, Georgeanne took all he had to give and stayed with him while lust destroyed his bones and love remade his body.

Silviu’s lungs labored, his throat closed. He forced his fingers to release her hair and dragged her against his chest once more. She snuggled close and held him while he searched for his strength.

Then Georgie shocked him. She put her lips to his ear and whispered, “I’m afraid to go to this wedding tonight. I’m afraid bad things will be waiting for us. But I also know you’ll be there with me, and that we’ll get through whatever comes.”

Silviu’s heart twisted, his soul eased. He closed his arms around her and held her tight.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Tulah

The ballroom was a fantasy land. In addition to the decorations of the previous night’s dinner, a profusion of white blooms turned the space into a veritable garden, the heavy scents of orchids and magnolias competing for dominance. Candles were scattered everywhere, on the tabletops and in beautifully ornate candleholders lining the walls. The round tables to either side of the dance floor were covered with crisp white linens, and a rectangular table had been added at the far end of the room.

The head table. It was reserved for Constance and Graves, Daniel and Muso, Anne and Warner. Tulah sat back in her seat at the Davenold table, unspeakably relived she wouldn’t be forced to share elbow room with Graves at the celebration. She refused to feel guilty over the place card switch, either—Adam had very casually exchanged her name with another’s, forcing a lone, unfortunate Levy next to Charles.

Who watched her without blinking, but she couldn’t read the emotion in his eyes. It was enough to send chills up her spine and have her leaning toward Adam’s heat. Next to Charles, the single Levy valiantly tried to make conversation, frustration evident on his face as the head of Graves’ security ignored him. There was still an empty chair to be filled at the Levy man’s side and Tulah wished him luck in gaining a more agreeable dinner partner.

She turned her gaze toward the head table. Muso slouched in his chair, ignored by Daniel, Anne and Warner, who were in deep discussion. In front of them, a small stand held three candles, decorated with deeply etched scrolling designs and cobalt ribbon. To the left, Madeleine looked shaky on her feet, her face pale but determined, her magical power still strong enough to feel from Tulah’s seat.

“She doesn’t look too hot,” Adam murmured. Tulah turned to him, noting the dullness in his blue eyes and the downward set of his lips. He reached for her hand under the table, linking their fingers. “I’m worried about her.”

“Madeleine’s strong.”

“She’s old,” he shot back. “God, you sound like Georgie. She’s convinced Madeleine is immortal, I think.”

“Maybe you’re too protective.”

Before he could answer, there was a small commotion at the door. The sharp rapping of his emerald-tipped walking stick preceded Graves into the ballroom. He was dressed entirely in white, his tuxedo sporting tails. It was odd to see him without his signature green accents.

He came through the doorway without pause, his gaze locking on Tulah. Around the table, the Davenolds, Lovaszes and Eliasz stilled. Adam got to his feet slowly, his features shifting into wary protectiveness as Graves headed straight for them.

Graves held out his hand, nothing but polite until he snarled, “You’re in the wrong fucking seat, pet.”

“She’s fine where she is,” Adam stated flatly.

Graves didn’t spare him a glance. “Come.”

Tulah lifted her chin and dragged in air, forcing it past the constriction that banded her chest. “I’m fine where I am, thank you.”

Graves smiled and shook his head. Cold terror sliced through Tulah’s brain. She’d seen that same look before, the very moment Graves slammed his palm to her father’s chest and stole his life. “No, pet. You see, if you sit here, who will keep your mother company?
Edward
!”

Tulah barely heard him scream for the chief bellhop. Her heart beat too loudly, her thoughts rioted too madly, for his bellow to register. But she saw the other man enter the ballroom immediately, her mother’s arm locked in a grip that paled her skin.

Tulah jumped to her feet, Adam swore. The others went so rigid Tulah could feel their tension feeding into her own. Her knees threatened to give way, forcing her to clutch the table as her brain filled with a thousand tingling emotions, none of which were useful. She couldn’t think, couldn’t reason.

Her mother’s face was bone-white. Her eyes were too large, her lips trembled. She wasn’t dressed for a wedding, the dull, age-softened caftan floating around her ankles better suited to laundry day than a formal celebration. Nothing like the gold sheath Muso had provided for Tulah.

“I’m sorry,” her mother whispered.

Tulah shook her head, biting her lips as she fought to drag oxygen through her nose. “Are you all right?”

“I was careless.” Tears pooled and flowed over Chelsea’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

Graves held out a hand. Tulah had no choice. With a glance at Adam to silently beg his compliance, she took the offered hand of her malicious host and allowed him to lead her to the other side of the ballroom. Charles got to his feet, his lips splitting in a grin that had acid bubbling in Tulah’s stomach.

Graves bowed to the Levy witch. “My apologies, there must have been a mistake. You were to sit with the Davenolds and their tablemates.”

With a flash of relief lighting his eyes, the Levy male rose and skipped across the dance floor. Edward pushed Chelsea into her seat roughly, holding her down with his hands on her shoulders as he moved behind her. Graves gestured to the recently vacated chair.

Without a word, Tulah sat. Graves stared at her for a long moment, his lips pulled into brooding lines, before he spun on his heel and stalked away. Charles slid his seat closer the moment the groom reached the head table, leaning in until his breath wafted over her face. Tulah drew back, but there was nowhere to go. Edward’s sentinel stance blocked her.

“Mama?” Tulah spoke over her shoulder but kept her eyes glued to Charles, distrusting the expression in his gaze. “What happened?”

“Daniel Levy caught me in mid-transformation. He told Graves.”

Tulah groaned. Daniel couldn’t possibly have known how imperative it was to keep Chelsea’s presence secret. He probably worried about security and thought the kitsune witch was a spy or posed some danger to his Family. Of course he would take the matter to Graves.