“It’s about goddamn time,” he growled. He straightened off the bed and yanked her up with him. Then he took hold of her tank top in both hands and shredded it. “Say it again.”
She started to laugh. Even to her own ears, she sounded drunk. She reached for his shirt and tried to undo the buttons with clumsy fingers as she told him again, “I’m yours.”
He spun her until she faced away from him. The controlled violence in his movements jettisoned her laughter. Her knees started to shake. He tore the rest of her clothes away and pushed her onto the bed until she was on her hands and knees, facing away from him. He widened her legs until she was fully exposed to him. The sense of vulnerability was almost too much to take. She shivered spasmodically.
She heard the tiniest of sounds from behind, the catch of his breath and a rustle of cloth. She tried to look over her shoulder to see what he was doing.
Then he put his hot lips on her from behind and licked along the delicate folds of her most private, hypersensitive flesh. He tickled her clitoris with his tongue and mouthed against her, “Say it again.”
Arousal roared over and through her. It knocked her off her hands. She collapsed forward, turned her damp cheek into the bedspread and gasped it.
Her collapse exposed her even more to him. He licked, nibbled and suckled, coaxing pleasure from her with a soft and dexterous touch, then turning demanding and rough, gripping her by the hips and holding her in place as he feasted on her with a ruthless carnality that sent her squealing into a climax that peaked and peaked until she writhed, utterly helpless in his grip as she fought for enough breath to scream.
All the while he insisted she admit that she was his. She gave it to him every time he demanded. She moaned it, sobbed it, until finally she lay boneless on her back, a mass of quivering, exposed nerves.
There was no part of her he had not pleasured or taken when he finally moved over her body, positioned his cock at her drenched, inviting entrance and pushed his way inside. She stroked the strong curve of his back with trembling hands as he filled her and she whimpered, drugged with pleasure. Tears spilled out of the corners of her eyes.
He framed her face with his big hands as he came all the way inside, seated to the root. At last he had burned even his own ferocity away, until all that was left on his severe dark face was tenderness.
“I have learned so many things over the long years,” he whispered as he moved inside of her. “I’ve taken tribute from sovereigns and witnessed the end of empires. But you are my best teacher.”
She stroked his lean cheek. “I love you.”
A smile filled with simple wonder lightened those fierce gold eyes. “I know.”
Laughter threatened to take her over, but then he lost his smile and grew intent as he drove harder, deeper inside her. She arched up to him as he hit just the right pleasure spot, and his powerful body shook as he spilled inside her. She cradled him close as he gasped and hid his face in her neck. Afterward she stroked his hair as they drifted.
Then he roused just enough to shift his weight off her. He lay on his back and pulled her against his side.
“Good to have that settled,” he said with satisfaction. He ran his fingers through her hair and with a gentle pulse of Power smoothed the tangles out.
“What, that we’re mates?” She stroked his hard, beautiful mouth.
“Yes.” He kissed her fingers. “Because we’re getting married.”
“We’re—” She bit her lip. “That’s your proposal. Just like that, we’re getting married.”
“Oh.” He reached over the side of the bed, dug into his shirt pocket and then dropped a massive diamond ring on her chest. “There.”
She rolled her eyes and flopped onto her back. This was too good to pass up. “Well, Dragos, it’s one thing to agree that we’re mates, but I don’t know about marriage,” she said. “I read Cosmo. You eat people. I think divorce court might call that the definition of irreconcilable.”
He rolled onto his side. The sheet slid from his muscled chest as he propped himself up on one elbow and regarded her from under lowered brows. It was his moody, stubborn look. God, she loved that expression. She could just about see the wheels turning in his head.
After a moment, he said, “Please.”
“That’s better, big guy.” She nodded and put the ring on.
A special preview of the next Novel of the Elder Races by Thea Harrison
STORM’S HEART
Coming August 2011 from
Berkley Sensation!
Motel 6 wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was kind of cute in a polyester sort of way.
Sure, it wasn’t the Regent, or the Renaissance, or the Ritz-Carlton. But the desk attendant had been cheerfully disinterested when she had checked in, the prices were affordable and, most important, they had smoking rooms. Score.