Demon's Hunger (22 page)

His terms.

He could do this. He could make love to her without loving her.

Christ
. Where had that thought come from? From inside him, a tiny seed.

And he knew that this wasn't about having her feed from him; it was about the way he felt, the feelings that had cracked his walls. This was about Vivien. His Vivien. He wanted to claim her and let her claim him. He wanted to share this with her. He wanted her.

Vivien moaned as Dain raked his teeth up along her neck, her jaw, his mouth finding hers. A ripe and greedy hunger roared through her. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She writhed underneath him, the feel of his naked skin and solid muscle driving her wild with longing.

Tentatively, then harder, she pulled on her trapped wrists, held in the band of his strong fingers.

"I want to touch you, run my hands over you… please," she moaned.

"Later," he said, and then kissed her again, full-mouthed and wet.

And she stopped trying to free her hands, because on some level, she liked this. Liked the feeling that he was in control.

Oh, God, this was so out there, so—

Her thoughts spun away as he kissed her, rough, teeth and tongue, and, oh, she liked that. She didn't want soft and gentle. She wanted wild, unrestrained. Wet, deep, the heat of him poured through her, and she took it, fed on it, on his warmth and strength, and on something more, something bright and sparkling and electric in the air around them. Like static electricity, only nice, ramping through her like a shimmering light.

She was so hungry for him, so hungry. Yet through the thrashing storm of her need, she felt his reserve, his… suffering. This was hard for him; she could sense that, feel the way he held a part of himself back.

"Dain." She breathed his name, a whisper, a plea. She needed something from him, needed… the light. More light.

But more than that, she needed him. All of him. The parts he locked away from her. She wanted them with a greedy longing. Because he had taken parts of her that she had sworn never to give, bits of her heart that she was so afraid to share. He had coaxed them free, and they were his.

Barely able to contain her arousal, she squirmed beneath him, arching her back. His mouth closed around her nipple, sucking lightly, then harder, teeth scraping at the sensitive peak.

It was more than pleasure. Whatever terrifying thing ailed her, his touch made it fade. There was no more pain. There was only him. Only Dain.

Some part of her realized that her responses were too greedy, too fast, too out of control, but she couldn't summon the will to care. He was wonderful, sinful, dark and delicious as he kissed her and touched her, his breath shuddering, his body hot and hard.

She didn't care. Didn't care if it was too fast. He let her wrists go.
Yes
, she ran her hands over his naked body, his skin hot to her touch. Flat, male nipples and the hard planes of his chest, and on his right shoulder cap, a tattoo of a dragon, stylized, the ink dark against his skin. Sexy, so sexy. With a moan, she arched up and ran her tongue along the outline, tasting salt.

A wave of passion drove her, stealing her breath, leaving her trembling and wet. Oh, God, she wanted him.
Needed
him.

She let her hands slide along his corded arms, then lower, over the ridges of his abdomen. The muscles jumped beneath her touch. She could feel him holding back, and she wanted him as wild as she was, aching as she was aching.

Dark, primal hunger cycled through her.

Panting, she twisted her torso so she could lick his chest, his belly. Her hunger ramped up, so keen she almost cried out. She needed this, needed him, ached for him. She was half mad from it, this darkly enchanted craving.

A shudder coursed through her, flame erupting in the pit of her belly as she closed her hand around his thick, hot length. She reveled in the feel of his skin, satin smooth and so erotic.

From base to head, she stroked the length of his cock. She was on fire, light and heat shimmering around and through them, binding them.

Their gazes met, locked. They were both gasping for breath.

Something tore free inside her, an unfettered longing that claimed her.
Take him. Draw from him
.

She slapped her palms against his shoulders, pushed him flat on his back.

He watched her, his amazing gray eyes bright in the dim light, and he let her have her way.
He let hen
She sensed his strength and power, his control. Rearing up, she looked down, studied him, so perfectly formed, all chiseled planes and smooth skin over hard muscle.

Palming his thick erection, she leaned in, savored him with a slow stroke of her tongue, licking him all the way up his shaft. She shivered as his hands fisted in her hair, and his breathing became harsher, faster. He groaned as she worked her mouth around the broad head of his penis, sucked him deep, smooth and slick, the taste of him making her moan.

Sharp huffs of air left his lips, and his hips rocked to meet her. She loved this.
Loved
it. The taste of him and the power to make him moan with primitive need, the ability to chisel away just a little of his reserve, nudge aside his control, drag him free of his self-imposed fetters.

Just as he had set her free of the pain that had racked her, the weakness, the dizziness. So much better now. She felt like she'd been jacked up with caffeine or had had the most amazing sleep of her life. She felt giddy and tingly, her skin crackling with energy.

God, she almost believed she could see a halo of light around them, bright and warm.

Ah, the light… She
did
see it, could feel it, a shimmering glow around them both. His magic, she realized. It made her so hungry.

She sucked his cock, hard, her teeth raking lightly over sensitive skin. Dain hissed and rocked up, pushing into her mouth, pulling back, pushing again, full and thick. His breathing was harsh, his muscles tense. His control hard-won.

The scent of him and the uneven rasp of his breathing drove her wild. The feel of his hands on her skin.

She pressed into his touch, moaned when he scraped his thumb over her nipple, then caught the sensitive flesh between his fingers and pinched her, lightly, a little harder, enough to make sensation riot through her.

With a gasp, she arched her body, eager for his touch. The ache at her core was so strong, so compelling, it was beyond longing or desire. She would have him because she
must
, because without him, she thought she would not survive.

Crazy thoughts. Unreal. But she was convinced of their truth. She
needed
Dain inside her, filling her.

Not just the physical. Not just the hunger. But the part of her that was filled with care, the part of her that ached to heal him as she healed herself. Together they could only be stronger than either was alone.

With a low sound, he closed his hands about her waist, then turned her and brought her up on her knees, her chest pressed to a pillow, the thick, hard jut of his erection tight against her buttocks. His palm glided along her hip, her belly.

His breath was a harsh rasp against the back of her neck.

"Oh, please, please," she breathed, throbbing and wet and shaking. She thrust her buttocks back against him, felt her skin heat and the air crackle and,
oh, God
, she would die if he didn't push inside her, smooth and slick.

Dain mastered himself with effort as he ran his palm over her firm round buttocks, traced the C-curve of her spine. She was drawing from him, a steady pull, his magic flowing like a stream, glittering, smooth. And with it came a surge of emotion, unwelcome, unwanted, a feeling that threatened to pull him under if he let it. He
liked
this, liked the sensation of slaking her need.

She wasn't just drawing it; he was giving it to her with free will, and she was giving something back to him. A warmth. A closeness.

Oh, yeah. He wanted to do this, wanted to give her what she needed. Truth was, he felt a dark thrill at the thought of his power feeding her, saving her, making her whole.

Sliding his hand between her legs, he pushed two fingers into her slick, hot core. She moaned, rocking her hips, and his cock throbbed. She was so responsive, so lush and sweet.

He withdrew, pushed into her again, deeper. Fuck, she was so wet, so tight around his fingers.

"Oh, God, Dain. Please. Please." Her breathy gasps wound him tighter. He gave a ragged gasp as he eased between her thighs, pushing at her opening. A shallow thrust stretched her, opened her, dragged a short little cry from her lips, and she wriggled back against him. He splayed his hands across her hips, holding her still.

Hard and deep, he thrust all the way inside her, so slick and tight. She liked that, crying out, angling to take him deeper, and the ache of desire spiraled through him. He shoved his fingers through her hair, closing his fist on the short, soft strands and then letting them slide free.

"Dain, I want… I need to… I need to…" She was wriggling wildly now, trying to get free, to face him.

Sweet Vivien. She didn't even know what she needed, but he did. He could feel the steady tug as she drew his magic, and she wanted more. She wanted to face him and control the flow.

His cock was brick hard and heavy, throbbing.

Vivien. His Vivien.

He'd tried to stay remote, to give her only what she needed in order to survive. His body. A dose of his magic.

Christ, he couldn't do it.

He
wanted
to feel what she felt, know the emotion swelling in her heart, swelling in his own.

Stroking his hand along the sweet soft skin of her bottom, he nudged her thighs wider apart. With a luscious little moan, she opened to him.

He thrust harder, deeper, and desire roared through him, almost painful in its intensity.

His magic slid around them, bright, sharp, cocooning them and flowing in a way so foreign it caught his breath.

"Oh, yes. Oh, please." Beneath him, Vivien thrashed and moaned. She arched her back, sheathing him so deep and tight and hot. A cry wrenched from his throat.

Sweet. She was so sweet.

And he was so
not
in control. His body screamed for release, straining deeper and deeper still.

Sweat slicked his skin, and hers.

She whimpered, thrashed, cried out as he pumped into her again and again. Harder, faster.

Her whole body went bowstring taut, and she froze, a high, short cry torn from her, her hot, wet sheath contracting around him.

Bright light arced through him. The air crackled and danced with power.

Build a wall. Build a wall.

When? When she took too much?

Only she wasn't. She was taking and giving back.

She was coming still, shudders coursing through her body, staccato cries torn from her lips.

His blood roared. His cock was impossibly hard, and he thrust into her, his pleasure keen and sharp, his climax yanked from him in a wild rush of crashing waves.

The ripple and glide of his magic spun between them, stoking a dark, forbidden ecstasy, until finally, finally, with a soft sigh, she collapsed down on her belly. He let his weight fall upon her. Their breath intertwined as she tipped her face to the side, toward him, and he eased over to press his mouth to hers.

"I feel so"—she laughed softly—"I don't know how I feel. Good. Amazing. Better than amazing."

She squirmed, and he lifted up on his forearms, enough to let her roll over. She kissed his shoulder. Licked him. Bit him gently.

"Oh, my God," she moaned, wriggling her hips. "You're not going to believe this, but I want… I want to do it again. Right now."

The sound of her laughter sank into him, a secret pleasure.

He tightened his embrace, lowered his face to her neck, and breathed in her scent, mixed with his, an erotic combination. His cock stirred and hardened, and he felt his magic stir as well, called to her on some deep and inexplicable level.

Emotion rocketed through him, protective, insistent. He
would
keep her safe. He would find a way.

And if it turned out that succubi weren't just energy beings but full-fledged demons?

The thought was too ugly, too vile to taint the moment.

He
would
hold to his duty as sorcerer, protector of the mortal realm. He
would
betray her if he must.

Only, somehow, he'd find a way to keep her safe.

And how screwed up was that?