Broken Heart 08 Must Love Lycans (18 page)

“You’re dressed,” I said. “That sucks.”

He chuckled. “How do you feel?”

“Really good.”

“No soreness?”

I took a moment to assess my body. Given our strenuous activity last night, I should have been aching and bruised. But I felt great. “Insta-heal, baby. I think I’m gonna like being a werewolf.”

“It does have its perks.”

“You want to take a shower with me?” I asked.

“In the future, the answer to that question will always be yes. However, I have duties to attend to. By phone,” he clarified. “I’m not leaving.”

I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until he reassured me I wouldn’t be left alone. I exhaled, relieved to know he was only a shout away. After what happened with Robert, I had never been comfortable being by myself, and for some reason, my connection to Damian exacerbated the fear. Maybe it was the simplicity of knowing that I felt safe with Damian. There was no else on earth who could protect me like he could. It was the kind of reassurance I’d never had—and I didn’t want to be without it.

“C’mon,
Schätzchen
.” He threw back the covers and scooped me out of the bed.

“I’m not thrilled that you can resist my naked charms,” I complained as he strode out of the bedroom, down the hallway, and into the bathroom.

“Be assured I’m experiencing difficulties.” He looked at me, and then I felt wrapped in a light blanket of his lust. My breath left in a rush and my entire body felt electrified.

“You’re getting good at that,” I said. My nipples were tight and aching, and naturally, they drew the attention of Damian.

“So it appears.” He put me down, and I clutched his arms, afraid my knees would buckle if I let go.

“I must make arrangements for your continued safety. Dante can’t get through the Invisi-shield, but he is aware of Broken Heart’s location.” He kissed my forehead, then spun me around and patted my bottom. “I’ll be in the living room.”

The idea of Jarred finding us made me cold. But I wasn’t going to give Jarred a second thought. I had cared about him in a way—at the very least he’d had my loyalty and respect. Now he’d been downgraded to a manipulative jerk.

I turned back around, just so Damian would see the front view. Was it wrong for a girl to want to inspire a man? “You’re regretting this moment, right?”

“Definitely.” He looked appropriately torn, but since he was sacrificing his sexual urges to take care of me in other ways, I could hardly be too upset. Besides, the faster I finished getting cleaned up, the faster I could seduce him. I didn’t know if the constant, pulsing need to jump him was first-timer’s excitement or the stirrings of werewolf libido. Either way, I couldn’t keep my hands off him.

He escaped down the hallway, but he made it approximately two feet before he turned around and reentered the bathroom. He shut the door behind him, and then he dragged me into his arms and kissed me stupid.

Damian took up most of the space, making the small bathroom seem even smaller. He lowered his head to one plump breast and suckled the nipple. It hardened inside the warm cave of his mouth. I moaned as he laved the sensitive flesh.

With shaking fingers I tried to undo his shirt, but I couldn’t work the damned buttons. So I grabbed the top and pulled.

Buttons popped off and the material ripped, but then his massive, awesome chest was revealed, and I rubbed my hands over that warm, silky flesh. I was embracing my new lycan nature. No way could I have done that move if I were a mere human. It made me wonder, briefly, about the viability of Jarred’s serum. It may have prevented the ability to shift, but it didn’t seem to be affecting the other aspects of my transition.

Damian cupped the breast still throbbing from his attention and gently twisted the nipple. I gasped at the pleasure-pain invoked. As he pinched the still-wet nipple with his thumb and forefinger, he wrapped his lips around the taut peak of the neglected breast and sucked hard, nipping the end with his teeth.

I slid my hands into his pants and reached for his cock, which was already hard and straining. I couldn’t get my fingers inside, so I went for the zipper, but Damian pulled back, laughing.

“I like these pants,” he said. He shucked off his ruined shirt, and then removed his pants, boxers, socks, and shoes.

As soon as he was naked, I pressed closer to him, ravenous, needy. My hands glided over his chest. My fingers danced along the ridges of his stomach muscles, the firm skin of his thighs, and the roundness of his ass. One hand cupped his buttock, the other touched his cock pressed against my stomach. With one finger, I stroked it from base to tip. Then I encircled the head, gripping hard, before releasing it and sliding my hand down its firm length.

His hands drifted down my rib cage to my hips. Everywhere he touched made me tingle with heat. My heart was stuttering, and my breath rasping. I stroked his cock, reveling in the smooth, hard feel of it. Every time I reached the tip, it would jerk against my palm.

Damian growled.

God, I loved it when he growled.

He lifted me to the countertop, wedging me between the wall and the ceramic sink. I blinked at him, wondering at this new position, and watched as he got to his knees. Oh, baby. I held on to the edge of the counter with one hand while using the other to grab Damian’s fabulous hair.

His tongue ravaged my clit, a too-brief torment, and I got so excited, I yanked his hair. He didn’t seem to mind. Then he peeled back my labia and licked me with long, slow strokes. Every so often, his tongue would pause against my clit and flicker, causing all kinds of prickling sensations.

Then he planted his hands on either side of my thighs and pushed his tongue inside me.

I think I fainted.

Okay, no. I felt dizzy and weak, though. I abandoned my hold on the counter and grabbed his skull with both hands. My fingers were tangled in the dark strands of his hair, and my thighs were quaking.

Damian’s tongue darted in and out of me, the strokes rough and fast. I sucked in oxygen, but there didn’t seem to be any left in the room. Then Damian suddenly moved to my clit, drawing the pearl of tingling flesh into his mouth, sucking deep and hard. Just as an orgasm threatened … that rat bastard pulled away.

“Damian!” I yanked his hair, but he only laughed. He grinned up at me, his eyes sparkling, and I couldn’t really be mad at him. He was having fun. And sex should be fun. However, the ache of unfulfillment settled between my thighs, and I kinda wanted to bash his head against the wall.

“I demand satisfaction, sir,” I said.

“As the lady wishes.” His head lowered and once again his mouth found my clit. He inserted two fingers inside me and curled them upward.

The pressure he exerted with his fingers in that odd position offered a strange intensity. If I had been panting before, I was gasping now. It seemed that breathing wasn’t exactly an option when making love to Damian.

Then he started to thrust his fingers in rhythm to the thrusts of his tongue against my clit.

I shattered.

I was barely hanging on as waves of pleasure shuddered through me, but Damian didn’t stop the movements of his fingers or his tongue. Seconds later, another orgasm built, released, and I’m pretty sure I left my body and floated up to the stars.

It’s only a slight exaggeration.

Before I had fully recovered, Damian rose and placed himself between my legs. His gaze was all heat, and the playfulness was gone. He cupped my breasts, pinching the turgid nipples, and I squealed. They were aching and raw, feeling overly sensitive, but he was relentless.

“You need a break?” he asked.

I lifted a brow. “Do you?”

He offered me a smile, which wasn’t the reassuring kind or even the you’re-funny kind. It was more feral than that—more like a warrior would smile right before he slashed down with his sword to gain his victory. And yes, I understood the sexual connotations of my own analogy.

“Sword” was definitely an appropriate synonym for Damian’s penis.

He kissed me, one hard, quick meeting of mouths. Then he left me sagging against the wall, my back digging into the frame of the mirror above the sink. For all my bluster, I supposed a little break from his majesty wasn’t unwelcome.

Damian opened the glass shower door and stepped inside. He fiddled with the knobs, and the large shower head spouted a practical waterfall. That shower looked almost as good as Damian. I hopped off the counter and joined him.

He kissed me underneath the hot spray of water, his hands all over me, and then I felt him push that ever-present lust of his right into me.

Red-
beauty
-passion.

He turned me so that I faced the wall. Then he got behind me and lifted my hands, pressing them palm flat against the marble. My heart tripped over in my chest, my body trying to grapple with his lust and mine, but they were so intertwined, so much a part of the other, it was the same burning, bright flame.

He sniffed my neck. Then he clamped his teeth on my nape and parted my thighs. I was flattened against the wall, and my heart hammered, and I think I was sorta afraid. The smooth tile held a residual chill even with the steam of the shower filling up the stall.

Damian worked his cock inside me, nearly lifting me off my feet. I stood on my tippy toes. Once he was embedded, he adjusted our positions, and I was on my feet again, but not sure I could keep myself upright.

Then Damian squeezed his hand between my body and the wall. My nipples beaded, and there was this great rush of
soundlightfeeling
as he started to move.

He pinched my clit.

Electric fervor zinged me.

I was pinned too securely to fall, but it felt like I was at the edge of a cliff, and Damian was dangling me over the edge. The water sluiced over us as he pounded into me. And he kept pinching my clit.

His teeth were embedded at my nape. His free arm wrapped under my breasts. And he took me hard and fast.

I liked it.

Pleasure gathered in a tight, hot coil. Damian ripped his teeth from my neck, and for some weird reason the pain of that zigzagged to the riot of agony he was causing by tugging on my clit. It was the absolute intensity of the sensations, not pain, but awful, terrifying pleasure. It was like my body didn’t care what he did to me because it would always interpret it as pleasurable.

He pressed his forehead against my shoulder.

“I’m coming, Kelsey,” he admitted in a rough voice.

His words were the equivalent of shoving me off that proverbial cliff. Even as he stiffened and groaned with his release, I was falling into my own.

We reached the pinnacle together.

I don’t know how long it was before I came to and realized I was being squished against the wall by a very satisfied werewolf, but at the same moment, he released me. I slid boneless toward the floor, but he caught me, and gently turned me around.

“You will never get clean until I vacate the shower,” he murmured.

“I like getting dirty with you.”

He grinned. He gaze dropped to the tattoo above my left breast and he swept his thumb across it. “I must admit that I like seeing my mark on you.” He looked at me through his lashes. “How did you get it?”

“I was working as a
vaquero
in Mexico. One day, we were branding cattle, and I tripped. Landed ass over teakettle and
bam
—my shoulder hit the iron.”

“Must’ve hurt,” he said.

“Oh, it did, but I showed true grit.”

He laughed softly.

He kissed my forehead, and left. I watched through the glass wall as he toweled off and got dressed. He waved to me, and I blew him a kiss. He pretended to catch it; then, still smiling, he left and shut the door behind him.

I got under the hot spray of water. The shower felt nice, but the being without Damian part sucked. I used the bath gel and the loofah (seriously, I couldn’t imagine Damian using a loofah, but there you go) to scrub myself clean.

Then I went to work on my hair.

One minute, I was scrubbing the shampoo across my head and humming, and then the next I was standing in a moonlit glen that I immediately recognized. My hands were still clinging to my soapy skull, but the Moon Goddess had thoughtfully draped me in a silk robe. I was wet, though, so the material clung to me like a second skin.

Tark was in his human form, but at least this time he was wearing pants—though they were so tight, his impressive musculature and his genitalia were on display. I jerked my gaze away from him, and looked at the Goddess, who sat once again on her throne.

“Couldn’t wait for me to fall asleep, huh?”

“I’m afraid my impatience has gotten the better of me. How is Damian? And Drake? And Darrius?”

“Um … okay, I guess. Damian’s not too thrilled about—” I pointed to the mark on my neck. “But we’re working through our issues.”

Tark laughed. “Indeed.”

My face went hot.

“Don’t tease her, my love,” said the Goddess sweetly. “I’m sorry I surprised you, but I miss them so much, you see.”

“Why can’t you just pull Damian here?”

“I cannot call forth a lycan. For now, you are human enough to cross the barrier, but that is changing rapidly.” She shared a solemn look with her husband. “We hope that you survive.”

“Thanks. Me, too.”

She chuckled. “I do like you, Kelsey.” Her gaze turned earnest. “We want to help you, but our resources are limited—at least until the Winter Solstice. Then we will be free.”

“You’re prisoners?”

“In a way.” She studied my face for a moment, then appeared to come to a decision. “Nearly a century ago, I made a bargain. It was necessary, but part of the terms included my departure from the earthly plane.”

“Forever?”

“Only a hundred years—and I could not reveal the details of the bargain. The moment it was struck, I was barred from your world. But though I disappeared, my wolves did not lose their faith. Then several decades ago, I failed my children when they needed me most. Damian stopped speaking to me. Almost all of them did. Before that terrible night, you see, when they said their prayers or whispered their hopes, I could hear them. It gave us succor.” Tark clasped his wife’s shoulder. She offered him a grateful smile. “It has only been bearable because of Tark.”