DeliveredIntoHisHands (7 page)

She lowered her head. “You want me to take
hold of them?” she asked in a small voice.

“Aye, and keep holding them,” he answered.
“The moment—the very second—you let go of them, I will stop. Do you
understand?”

“You won’t hurt me?” she asked.

“Wench, I intend to give you so much pleasure
you might well faint from it,” he said.

“That’s not an answer,” she told him.

“Nay, baby,” he said. “I will never hurt
you. I swore it and I meant it.”

He eased his grip and when she didn’t jerk
her arms away, he let go—trailing his fingertips from her wrists all the way
down her arm to her shoulder.

“Now, no matter what I do, I need you to
lie still,” he said firmly.

Garrick gently thrust his arms under her
knees then wedged his hands upward until he was cupping the firm cheeks of her
rump in his palms. Looking up her body at her, he put the tip of his tongue to
the flesh over her navel and made a slow, lazy circuit of it, his warm breath
sinking in the sweet indention.

The wood of the headboard creaked as she
jerked against it but she kept her hands where he’d ordered. She was quivering
beneath him as he made another circuit and then another then dipped the tip of
his tongue inside.

“Mother of the goddess!” she hissed and
jerked so hard on the spindles in her hand he heard one crack.

He stilled, lifted his head to look at her,
holding her gaze captive with his own. His smile was slow, wicked and he
watched her eyes widen. He knew she thought he was about to do something sinful
to her—could hear her chaotic thoughts tumbling around one another. He arched
an eyebrow.

“Wh-what are you g-going t-to d-do?” she
stammered, swallowing.

Slowly he lowered his head again and
scrunched down farther on the mattress, trailing kisses from her navel into the
silky patch of hair that pointed like an arrow to what he wanted most.

Once more the spindles creaked as he made
slow, soft kisses all along that dark curly expanse. He used his shoulders to
ease her thighs wider, lifted her hips from the mattress. He wriggled a bit
closer to the foot of the bed until the soles of his feet were jammed against
the footboard.

Antonia lifted her head from the pillow.
“Ricky?” she asked, her brow furrowed. “What are you—”

“Lie down,” he ordered. His mouth was
beyond the patch of crinkly hair and she shuddered when he spoke for his breath
fanned over her sensitive flesh. When she didn’t move, he looked up and put
firm command in his tone. “Lie down, wench.”

He watched the uncertainty in her face
become tension but she lowered her head.

Resting his forearms on her silky thighs he
spread his fingers to either side of her nether curls then positioned his
thumbs so they bracketed the hidden nub of hooded flesh hidden above her core.

His wife bucked. “Oh gods, you’re not going
to kiss me there?” she gasped.

“No, I’m not going to kiss you there,” he
replied and when he felt her relax, he grinned, pushed back the hair covering
her clit, put out his tongue and flicked the little button.

“Garrick!” she screamed, her hips
undulating but she did not let go of the spindles. She jerked hard as hell on
them and one came halfway out of its slot.

“Easy, wench,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m
just beginning.”

He gave her no time to process what he was
doing. He had years of experience under his belt—literally—and with a tiny
movement of his thumbs he had the hood of her clit peeled back and was slowly
licking it.

Antonia moaned, she hissed, she gasped and
was swirling her hips as he continued to torment her. When he stopped, her
groan of frustration made his cock leap. He ran the nails of his thumbs lightly
down the outer folds of her cunt—easing them apart—until he could slowly lick
the cream that was flowing from the opening.

“Oh gods, Garrick,” she whimpered then
sucked in a harsh breath when he pressed his tongue inside her. Her inner
muscles pulsed upon the invasion and more cream trickled forth. He lapped at
her like a cat at a bowl of the heady treat then eased one thumb into her as he
dragged his tongue to her clit once more. Her entire body shuddered hard and
she tried to close her legs.

“Unh unh,” he said, nudging her wider with
his shoulders. “You really don’t want me to stop, do you?”

“No,” she whined. “Oh gods, no, I don’t
want you to stop.”

“Good,” he said then blew his breath across
her. “Because the best is yet to come.”

He slowly worked his thumb in and out of
her as he stared up at her. She was licking her lips and each time she did, his
cock leapt in reaction. The front of his pants was already wet from pre-cum.

Which told him he needed to remove them as
well as the rest of his clothing. He needed to be flesh to flesh with her.

Gently he took his thumb from her and with
one lithe bound was up and off the bed before she had time to react. He was
standing beside the bed jerking his shirt from his pants before her gasp of
protest came.

“Garrick?” she questioned.

“I want our bodies touching,” he said,
ripping the shirt open and tossing it away. He tugged on his belt with such
fierce force he broke the tang on the buckle. Not bothering to run the buttons
of his fly, he simply ripped the fly open and shoved the black uniform trousers
brutally down his hips, stepped out of them. He dipped his knee to the bed and
positioned himself once more between her legs.

“Hard for our bodies to touch if you’re
crouched down there, Vampire,” she told him.

He didn’t reply. Instead, he laid the palm
of his hand between her thighs and began to rub sensuously. She was still
gripping the spindles but one was barely in its groove. Another pull and it
would surely come free. Not wanting to be staked in the back by the thing when
she came—and she would come hard—he told her to take hold of the spindle beside
the broken one. When she did, he slipped the middle finger of his hand into her
cunt.

She drew in a sharp breath, jerked on the
spindles then tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes darkened and
her breathing became faster.

Slowly, gently, he moved his finger in and
out of her wet core. Every incursion into that sweet cavern made her muscles
clench around him and when he began to twist his finger slowly, he actually heard
her purr.

He added his index finger—his goal to
stretch her, to accustom her to his girth. He was not a small man and he knew
it would be a shock to her when he eased inside her. There would be some
discomfort and though he could glamour it away, he felt that would be cheating
her of knowing the full sensation of her first time.

His ring finger joined the other two for
she was slick from need. Her hips were lifting and falling but he doubted she
was even aware she was moving them. Afraid she might thrust against him and
break the fragile membrane he could feel with the tip of his middle finger, he
put the palm of his other hand on her abdomen to hold her down.

“I need…” she said in a throaty voice.
“Garrick I need—”

“I know what you need, wench,” he said.
Very gently, very slowly he twisted his fingers inside her. “Just lie as still
as you can.”

“Garrick, I can’t,” she whimpered and tried
to lift her hips.

She was close to her release and that was
what he was striving for. He wanted her to be in the midst of an orgasm when he
slipped into her. Any discomfort would be less and the pleasure would continue
as his thickness filled her.

He lowered his mouth to her clit and drew
it between his lips.

Once again the spindles on the headboard
creaked as she pulled mightily on them. He increased the speed of his shallow
thrusts into her cunt and suckled her clit, stabbed it with his tongue until
her heels were digging deeply into the mattress and she was panting. In between
the pants she moaned and her thrashing was music to his ears. At the moment he
felt her begin to come, he moved over her, positioning his cock at her
entrance.

Her eyes flashed open, her lips parted and
she let go of the spindles to fling her arms around his neck as the climax
started. As though they had a mind of their own, her legs came up to trap him
around his waist and he drove firmly but with care into her quivering cunt.

“Garrick!” she screamed so loudly against
the side of his face his ears rang. Her legs were clamping him tightly, her hips
arched up in sacrifice to his shaft, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
She was meeting him thrust for thrust as her climax rippled around him.

His cock could stand no more and he
released his seed deep into her and with every pulse, he felt her shiver until
the very last clench of her inner muscles stopped. Yet his orgasm went on,
stunning him. He’d never experienced such a hard burst of release. By the time
it ended, his arms gave out and he collapsed atop her with her fingers buried
in his hair.

“Sweet Merciful Sibylline,” she whispered.
“That was…”

Nothing compared to what was about to
happen, he thought. He took a deep breath then pulled out of her in one quick
glide. The soft, flexible barb at the end of his Panthera cock slid over her
ultra-sensitive, orgasm-primed clit and the scream that came from her this time
as she climaxed would have deafened him and brought the guards stampeding to
his door had he not clamped his palm over her mouth.

Wave after wave of intense pleasure coursed
through Antonia’s body. The only thing marring the absolute, exquisite joy of
it was not having her husband wedged tightly inside her. She pressed against
him savagely as the orgasm became almost painful it was lasting so long. She
could feel her eyes bulging and she had to suck air greedily into her lungs
through her nose for Garrick had his hand pressed to her lips.

“Enough,” he said, staring hard into her
eyes and almost instantly the intense sensation rippling over her nerve endings
began to lessen. She could feel sweat trickling down the sides of her face and
could not stop the shivering that racked her body.

Carefully Garrick removed his hand from her
mouth then rolled to his side, drawing her into the strong clasp of his arms.
He tucked her cheek against his shoulder and cupped the back of her head to
hold her.

“Hush, love,” he said, slowly and
repeatedly making the little shushing sounds that a father would his child.
“Calm down. Your heart is racing much too fast.”

“Garrick,” she said and felt tears
gathering in her eyes.

“It will always be like that,” he said.
“There is no way I can prevent it.”

“I wouldn’t want you to try,” she
whispered, shivering so badly her teeth were clicking together.

She felt him smile.

“I gather you rather liked your first
time,” he said. He turned his face toward her so he could kiss her forehead.

She smiled too. “It was okay.”

He chuckled. “Then I’ll have to do better
next time.”

“Do any better and my body would go up in
flames.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” he said.
“Perhaps I should simply temper my efforts.”

“I think not,” she said and yawned.

His arms tightened around her. “‘Tis almost
dawn and my usual time for sleeping. Do you think you could get used to
sleeping during the daylight hours until—”

He stopped and she knew he had been about
to mention the Changing but had thought better of it. She flexed her hand
against the crisp hair covering his chest.

“You don’t want the Changing, do you?” he
asked quietly.

She would not—could not—lie to him. Lies
were a good way to ruin a marriage before it even began.

“No,” she said in a small voice. “I truly
don’t.”

“There are advantages to it,” he said. “I
know we haven’t discussed them but perhaps now is the time to do so.”

She lifted her head, her eyes wide. “You
said the Changing was weeks away.”

“It need not ever take place if you are
that afraid of it,” he told her.

Hope flared in her chest. “Truly?”

“Let me tell you the advantages then you
decide,” he said. “All right?”

She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth
and nodded.

“First there is the longevity,” he said.
“Vampires never die unless they are staked through the heart, beheaded or—as
was the attempted case on my life—staked in the Sun. We are immune to illnesses
and disease, all manner of sickness although my being a hybrid I developed
migraines at an early age.”

“Your mother was a Vampire?” she asked

“A Hell-hag,” he replied quietly.

“A witch of Bandar,” she wanted clarified.
“From the planet Caillagh.”

“Aye. She rose through the Orders of
Celestial Descendency until she became One with the Blood and thus a Vampire.
My father is Panthera Reaper.”

“And your friend Marcus?” she asked. “Which
is he?”

“His mother was a Hell-hag, as well,” he
said. “His father was a Lupine Reaper from Faolchú and was the king’s personal
bodyguard.”

“Was?”

“There was an assassination attempt three
months before Marc was born. Major Zoltán took an arrow meant for the king.
Marcus and his mother became members of the royal household and he was raised
alongside me in the women’s quarters.”

“I have heard the queen would have had it
otherwise,” she said. Her mother had hinted that her daughter’s husband-to-be
was an outcast at the palace of Modartha because his father’s wife hated him
deeply.

“Queen Maeve would like nothing better than
to see me put down like the rabid beast she believes me to be,” he said in a
matter-of-fact tone. “I’m sure she was keenly disappointed when she learned I’d
survived the staking.”

“Jealousy because of your mother?” she
inquired.

“That and the fact that she hasn’t been
able to give the king a son,” he said.