- The Darkest Whisper
“Why are you talking?” Because his erection was so thick, she hadn’t been able to close her fingers around it and easily lost her grip. That pissed her off, and she snarled. “Give back.”
“Soon,” he vowed, biting her earlobe. To distract her, the diabolical man? Didn’t matter, it worked.
As she cried out at the exquisite sensation, he descended, claiming her mouth with his own. His tongue plunged deep, taking, giving, demanding, seeking, begging, rolling, branding every inch of her. The taste of mint hit her first, then lemons, then the flavors became a part of her, his breath hers.
Her fingers tangled in his hair and drew him closer. Their teeth scraped, and he angled, sinking deeper. Her breasts rubbed against his chest, the friction so decadent her legs were trembling. And then her legs weren’t holding her up anymore—his were. She had propped herself completely on his knee, was gliding up and down, back and forth, zings of sensation rocketing through her.
“That’s a tight grip,” he rasped out.
Took every ounce of humanity inside her, but she loosened it. Disappointment filled her, and the Harpy squawked, demanding she make him like it.
Sabin frowned down at her. “What are you doing? It’s a tight grip, but I want tighter. You’re not going to break me, Gwen.” As he palmed and squeezed her ass, urging her on, he ducked his head and sucked hard on one of her nipples.
She cried out, her belly quivering, her hands back in his hair and tugging forcefully. His words…damn, they were as beautiful as a caress, freeing in a way she’d never imagined. “I love how strong you are.”
“Same here. I want everything you have to give.” He kicked at her ankles and she tumbled to the ground. Sabin followed her down, never slowing his quest to her core. When he reached it, he spread her legs as far as they would go and just looked at her.
“Touch,” she commanded.
“So pretty. So pink and wet.” His eyelids had dropped to half-mast, and he licked his lips as though he could already imagine her taste. Those dark eyes were luminous. “You’ve had a man?”
No reason to lie. “You know I have.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “That fucker Tyson treated you properly?”
“Yes.” How could he have done anything but, as tame as they’d been with each other? But right here, right now, she didn’t want tame. As Sabin had said, she couldn’t break him. Anything she gave, he could take…he wanted. Though he hadn’t even entered her, her pleasure soared to a new level.
“I think I’m going to kill him,” he muttered, rolling her nipples between his fingers. “Do you still think of him?”
“No.” And she didn’t want to talk about him, either. “Have you had a woman?”
“Not many, considering how old I am. But perhaps more than a human will ever have.”
At least he was honest about it. “I think I’m going to kill them.” Sadly, that was not an empty boast. Gwen had always abhorred violence, had always fled from a fight, but right now she happily could have sunk a dagger into the heart of every woman who had tasted this man. He belonged to her.
“No need,” Sabin said, ghosts in his eyes. Then he dove for her, licked the core of her and groaned, his expression flooding with pleasure.
Her back arched, her gaze shooting straight to the heavens. Sweet fire, that felt good. She reached behind her and latched on to the base of a tree, instinctively knowing she needed to hold on for the ride of her life.
“More?” he asked huskily.
Over and over he tongued her, and then his fingers joined the play, spreading her, sinking deep. She didn’t have to ask him if he liked it; he was lapping her up as if she was candy and she was arching in to every sensual glide.
“That’s right,” he praised. “That’s the way. I’ve got my cock in my hand, can’t help myself, imagining it’s your hand, while I’ve got heaven in my mouth.”
Her cries echoed through the forest, each more hoarse than the other. Almost there…so close…“Sabin. Please.” His teeth grazed her clitoris, and that was all it took. She climaxed, skin tightening, muscles jumping in joy, bones locking together.
He lapped until he’d sucked down every drop.
As she panted, Sabin flipped her over and propped her on her hands and knees. He teased her with the tip of his shaft, running it along her folds but not yet entering.
“I want to see you.”
“I don’t want to hurt your wings.”
Sweet man. “Let me taste you,” she said, and he groaned. She wanted to lick his tattoo, as well. It drew her, was an aphrodisiac all on its own, yet she’d never gotten a chance to study it the way she craved.
“You taste me, and I won’t be able to make love to you. I really want to make love to you. But the choice is yours.” He pressed his chest into her back, his face only an inch away from hers.
His shaft in her mouth or between her legs. Hard choice, literally. In the end, though, she opted for what she’d spent last night fantasizing about. She had to know what it was like to be his woman. Completely. Otherwise, she’d regret the lack for the rest of her life. However long or short that was. Being shot and realizing she did indeed want to help bring those Hunters down had taught her one thing: time wasn’t a guarantee, even for immortals.
“Next time, then.” She reached around, clamping down on a handful of his hair and jerking his mouth to hers. His tongue plunged deep again, and this time he was flavored with her.
He positioned himself at her entrance, but just before sliding home, he stiffened. Cursed. “I don’t have a condom.”
“Harpies are only fertile once a year, and this isn’t it.” Another reason Chris had been willing to hold her for so long. “Inside. Now.”
In the next instant, Sabin’s shaft was buried all the way to the hilt. The kiss halted as she gave another cry of pleasure. He stretched her, filled her up, touched every part of her, and it was even better than she’d dreamed.
He bit her earlobe. Still reaching around, she dug her nails into his shoulder, felt warm blood trickle as he hissed in a breath. Hmm, the sweet smell of it drifted to her and her mouth watered. “I want—I need—”
“Anything you want is yours.” On and on he pounded inside her, forward and back, fast, hard, his testicles slapping at her.
“Want…all. Everything.” With the feel of him, she became mindless, lost, no longer Gwen or the Harpy but an extension of Sabin. “Want your blood,” she added. Only his. The thought of anyone else’s left her hollow, unsatisfied.
Sabin withdrew from her completely.
A whimper escaped her. “Sabin—”
He was lying on the ground, fitting her over him, deep inside her, pumping, sliding, gliding a second later. One of her knees dug into a twig and got cut, but even that seemed to lull her into a state of utter sensation. Pleasure, pain, didn’t matter. Each fed off the other and dragged her further and further into a black sea of bliss.
“Drink,” he commanded, gripping her head and forcing her mouth to his neck.
Her teeth had already sharpened. Without hesitation, she bit him. He roared, loud and long, and she sucked the warm liquid deep into her throat, her tongue dancing over his skin. Like a drug, it spread through her, the warmth becoming a sizzle, blistering, scorching her veins. Soon she was trembling, writhing against him.
“More,” she said. She wanted everything he had, every drop. Had to have it. Would—kill him, she realized, forcing herself to jerk upright. His cock slid even deeper, and she shivered. “I almost drank too much.”
“No such thing.”
“You could have—”
“I won’t. Now give me more. Everything, like you said.”
Up and down she rode him, his fingertips clutching her so tightly they nearly broke skin. The fear of hurting him faded, leaving only a consuming sense of neediness.
“That’s the way. So good…so very good…” He was panting, grinding against her, his thumb stroking her clit. “Don’t want it…to end.”
Neither did she. Nothing had ever consumed her like this. Nothing had ever taken over her mind and body so fervently, to the point that nothing else mattered. Her sisters could find them, could be searching even now. Swift as they moved, they could be here already. Can’t stop. Need more.
Her head fell back, the ends of her hair brushing his chest. Reaching up, he cupped and kneaded her breasts, applying a little pressure to arch her backward. She complied, anchoring her hands on his thighs.
“Turn around,” he commanded roughly. “I want your blood.”
Perhaps she hesitated too long—what exactly did he want? Had she heard correctly? He palmed her knees, lifting, and spun her. His cock remained inside her. When she was facing the other direction, away from him, his fingers curled around her neck and drew her down. Her back to his chest. His teeth were in her neck a second later, and she was spasming, screaming at the bliss.
He didn’t suck her long, just enough to experience his own orgasm, hips hammering up and into her, one hand flat on her stomach to grind her against him. Nothing compared. Nothing was as wild, as necessary, as liberating. She and the Harpy soared through the heavens, lost in the pleasure of another climax.
An eternity passed before she collapsed, fully and completely spent, unable to breathe. Her chest was too constricted. Sabin’s inhalations were choppy, as well, his grip on her now weak.
The Harpy was quiet, had quite possibly passed out. Gwen didn’t roll off him, even though she wanted to pass out, as well. She’d been fighting sleep for so long, restful sleep untainted by pain and injury, but now it was creeping up on her, determined to consume her.
She lay exactly as she was, head cushioned by Sabin’s neck, his arms wrapped around her, his shaft still inside her. Stars winked in front of her eyes—or maybe it was the sun dancing between the clouds.