Hell's Gates (Urban Fantasy) (24 page)

But Sam and I? We didn’t speak. There was no need. We both knew what we wanted, what we needed. Sam wouldn’t be able to find satisfaction for himself no matter how much I craved his cum inside me. He was still on such shaky ground with On High, and finding satisfaction was another of those stupid rules angels had to follow to avoid falling.

I felt bad for him, and more than a bit selfish, knowing that I’d be the only one getting any real pleasure out of what was to come. On the other hand… I needed a good, hard fucking. Bad.

I pulled him around me and shoved him onto the bed, my mate lightly bouncing on the soft surface. I crawled atop him, straddling his hips, dominating my fierce mate. For now. I knew it wouldn’t last. My wolf wouldn’t let me keep control of our lovemaking. It wanted to submit too badly.

He propped himself on his elbows, staring up at me, and I didn’t miss the pure lust and need that filled his features. Lust, need, and something more… Love. On High how I loved this man, this gel.

I grinned, fingers going to the top button of my borrowed shirt. I flicked the first button, slowly nudging the bit of plastic through the small hole. And then the next, revealing more of my chest. He licked his lips, unwavering gaze on my tits, anticipation in his eyes.

Then the upper swells of my breasts. The valley between them followed by the lower curve. The pale skin of my stomach, and on until the shirt parted.

“Caith,” he rasped my name, need and desire sliding across his face.

I needed too.

I reached for him, cupping one cheek while my other hand went to the back of his neck. I tugged him up, pulled his mouth to my chest in a silent plea. He was as hungry as me, his mouth devouring me with gentle lips and harder nips.

I moaned and dropped my head back, taking pleasure in his touch. He rained kisses on my tits, nibbling the soft curves until he got to my hardened nipple. He blew a warm, moist breath across the firm tip and then circled the nub with his nubile tongue. I trembled with the hint of ecstasy that soft caress caused and arched my back further, pushing into his mouth.

He moaned in response, suckling my nipple, nibbling it with his blunt teeth and then sucking harder once more. His large hands went to my hips, gripping me tightly, and he pressed himself hard against me. I felt him stiffen beneath my ass, his firm length nudging me, the fabric between us blunting his need.

Fuck. My pussy clenched in response, my mate so close while I was still so empty.

I knew what I wanted, what I needed more than air, but I had to take my time getting there. Too soon, and my poor Sam would be on the verge of erupting before I was fully satisfied.

This was the selfish part of me. I was kinda okay with that. Definitely okay with that when he cupped my ass cheeks and encouraged me to rock against him while he moved his attentions to my other breast. I sifted my fingers through his hair, enjoying the silky feel.

I trembled, arousal spiraling higher, and I pushed it back… along with Sam. I nudged him away from my chest and wiggled down his body, grinning at the pure desire I saw in his eyes. I flicked the button on his pants, capturing the zipper between my teeth and slowly lowering. I kept my gaze on his the entire time, watching every emotion that passed across his face.

Need. Want. Desperation. Love?

I pushed away the hope that threatened to overwhelm me. Right now, this was about us, our bodies, and what we could share.

His cock sprang from its confines, tall and firm, a small droplet of pre-cum decorating the very tip. I licked my lips, eager to take him into my mouth and savor his taste. But I wasn’t willing to tease myself by taking him past my lips. I wouldn’t get to swallow his cum as he found his release.

Instead, I gripped the waist of his leathers, tugging the material from his body and tossing the pants aside once they cleared his feet. That left his bottom half bare, but his chest remained hidden.

“The shirt,” I growled, my wolf needing to see all of its mate. Needing to see everything.

I got a sexy smirk, Sam rising enough so he could rip—literally—the thin fabric from his body. I stared at my mate, my one and only. I cataloged every rise and fall of muscle, every deeply carved line that showed his strength. The scars that’d covered him as a fallen were nothing more than memories now—On High didn’t like imperfect gels—with the exception of one mark.

My mark. My demon-seared scar in his shoulder, my wolf’s fangs claiming him as our own.

I wanted to taste him again, swallow his blood and revel in the flavors of him.

Not yet.

Instead, I shrugged off my top and then worked on my jeans, inching the tight fabric over my hips and to the ground, panties vanishing along with them.

“Fuck, Caith,” the words sounded as if they were ripped from his chest.

“That’s what we’re gonna do.” I grinned and licked my lips, eyes straying to his shoulder.

Fuck and claim.

I climbed back onto his lap, nothing separating us any longer. This wasn’t the furious fuck in Momma R’s kitchen. This was as close to lovemaking as we could get.

I moaned when his hot cock rubbed my pussy and I leaned down, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. One he quickly took over. He thrust his tongue into my mouth, hand fisting my hair and angling my head as he desired. He plundered my mouth and I… let him. I let him have that control, melting against him in a boneless heap of need and want.

He reached between us, his fingers rubbing my clit in small circles, taunting me and giving me pleasure as he teased. Round and round he tormented my pussy, my hips moving in time with his attentions as I sought more of the bliss. I was gonna come on his hand, screaming his name as I was hurtled over the edge into—

The bastard stopped and I whined into his mouth instead of screaming, whimpering with the loss of his touch.

But I shouldn’t have. Not when he grasped the base of his cock and then the tip was poised at my entrance, blunt head nudging my center. I shuddered, a jolt of ecstasy racing up my spine with that new caress.

He pulled my head back, yanking his mouth from mine. “Want that?”

I tugged against his grip, testing him, testing his worthiness as a strong male to match my inner bitch.

He didn’t release me, just tightened his hold and tugged again. “Want me?”

“Please.” I’d beg. The Princess of Hell would beg… for him.

In one quick move he released my hair, gripped my hip, and thrust up into me. He stretched and filled my pussy, possessing me in that one movement of claiming. I echoed his deep moan, the pure sound of satisfaction, of desperation.

I rolled my hips, grinding against him, his thickness spearing me with the most delicious pleasure.

But Sam wasn’t having that. The mate of a wolf couldn’t let the alpha bitch take control for long. He gripped my hips, fingers digging into my rounded flesh, and set the pace
he
wanted.

Fuck was it a good pace.

He guided my motions, thrusting up into me, pushing me down to meet his every movement. I rode him, slow and hard, dragging my nails down his muscular chest. Not mine, my wolf’s. The animal wouldn’t be denied the pleasure of being present.

He increased our rhythm, forcing me to take more of him. My pussy fluttered around him, sheath clenching and milking his thick length. I arched my back, waves of pleasure sliding through my blood, increasing with every shift of muscle and breath.

“Sam…”

“You need to come on my cock, Caith.”

Fuck yeah, I did.

I slipped a hand between my legs, fingers finding my clit, and Sam’s eyes blazed with pleasure. He loved watching me touch myself. I’d forgotten that.

I rubbed the bundle of nerves in tiny circles, round and round, gathering the snippets of pleasure and hoarding them close. The pile of bliss grew with each thrust and retreat, his dick giving me more than a toy ever could. I rose higher, closer to the pinnacle, and still the joy of his touch continued. I’d come soon, scream his name to On High and dare the deity to stop us.

“Caith,” he snarled. So like a wolf. And that was it.

I came apart, shattering with the rush of orgasm, flinging myself off the edge of the cliff and flying through the air. My body trembled, muscles spasming with the release. My toes curled and I lost all control of myself. I fell forward, twitches and jerks randomly assaulting me.

And Sam didn’t stop. He kept pistoning in and out of my wet pussy, the sound of our hips meeting warring with my whines. It was good and bad, too much and not enough. I was over sensitized by my release and I bit my lip to keep quiet.

My mate slowed his hips, his dick still rock hard inside me, and I hated that he couldn’t sate himself with my body. Not unless he wanted to give up his divine grace once more. We’d have to find a way around that little issue one day. For now, I was grateful he was so selfless, so willing to give me what I needed even at the cost of his own frustration.

At some point we stirred enough to drag on clothes, a long shirt for me and baggy shorts for Sam. Shorts I’m sure he “borrowed” from somewhere. When Bry whined, I brought him into my room, playing and just enjoying being with my two favorite men. We ate and laughed, had a normal lazy day like any other family in the world. We deserved the rest, the relaxation, and the rediscovery of joy.

Tomorrow, I’d get back into a normal routine once more. Open the bar, pour drinks, and hopefully I wouldn’t have to deal with anything more difficult than rambunctious trolls and irritable goblins.

At least, one could hope.

A
few weeks
later I was sitting in my kitchen, Wilting Bluebell bustling around and making snacks while shooting me disapproving frowns. The brownie didn’t like the mistress of the house eating in the kitchens. The mistress shouldn’t even know where the kitchens were
located
.

Wilting Bluebell and I were the same age, she should know I wasn’t raised with a silver spoon in my mouth. My papas didn’t raise a spoiled brat in a looming castle or a sprawling estate. We had cottages and the wide open sky.

Wilting Bluebell could get over it.

She padded past me, giving me another one of her little glares. I picked up a piece of toast and took a big bite, crumbs littering the tabletop and a few falling to the ground. There that had to make her happy. At least I’d given her something to clean up. I swore, I did more to keep my brownies happy than anyone else in the tween.

Pro: I got to be a slob and it thrilled the brownies to pieces.

Con: The house I’d owned for what seemed like forever wasn’t really mine anymore. It’d been infiltrated and taken over by little rag-wielding brownies.

Maybe that wasn’t a con.

Killian Howe cleared his throat, pulling my attention from Wilting Bluebell and back to our meeting. He still had that disapproving frown thing going, too. He was in the Wilting Bluebell camp and had wrinkled his nose when I led him to the kitchen.

Everyone in the fucking tween could get over it.

Meeting Killian’s gaze, I took another big bite of toast, more crumbs falling. “You were saying?”

Yes, my mouth was full. Yes, my fathers taught me manners. Yes, I did it to annoy Killian.

He was looking a lot better these days now that the immediate threat of Silaran was gone. Immediate, not permanent. Today he wore another one of his perfectly tailored suits, perfectly pressed with perfectly polished shoes.

I wanted to throw him in the pond out back just to fuck with him.

But… we had to work on this dem shit. I’d decided to allow them back into Orlando with limited access on a case-by-case basis. Which meant I needed to work out the details with him. I needed a contract written—the mystically binding kind signed in blood and couldn’t be broken—that would allow dems who remained on their best behavior back into the city. Well, best compared to their normal behavior I guess. Dems were… dems.

There was a lot of legalese and fine print, but Killian assured me that it was all meant to give me as much room as I needed to enforce my rules on anyone who entered. It would also make sure they were bound to do as I said.

Violators would face the strictest of consequences. Plus, my boot up their ass.

Then we’d worked on access cards, mystical passports for dems entering the city. I’d hand them out at Hell’s Chapel to any dems I decided could be trusted in my city.

We were still going over the details—such as, show up at Caith’s house and she will kill you—when Sam walked in. He carried a smiling Bry on his hip and held a card in his hand. My mate had found an apartment down the street, but we still spent a lot of time together. Bry had taken a liking to him, which was definitely a good sign. Especially considering he was getting more and more mobile the more time passed. Pretty soon, I wouldn’t be able to keep him from wandering off and setting something on fire.

Which was why it was great that the two enjoyed spending time together. I had a fire-resistant babysitter while I dealt with this shit with Killian.

Plus, it meant Sam was close. We still had a fuckton of issues and his relationship with On High was still very shaky. We’d decided separate residences was best—for now. I wanted my mate in my life and if that meant having him, but not, then that’s what it meant. Even if it hurt.

Sam handed me the card. “This just arrived for you.”

I took it and frowned. It was a postcard with a picture of a smiling couple standing in front of an active volcano. One of the national parks in Hawaii? They wore floral shirts and sandals, so it seemed like a reasonable guess.

I flipped it over. No return address and there wasn’t even a postmark. It just held four simple words. “Wish I was there.”

Uncle Luc.

I looked at the picture again, holding it close and squinting. Now that I looked, I wondered if the volcano was even on Earth. It looked more like the sulfur-spewing pit found in Hell.

That closer look revealed something else. The man in the picture was Uncle Luc. Smiling. With his arm around a woman.

“What the On High?”

I looked at Killian, eyebrows raised. He averted his gaze, giving me another of his enigmatic shrugs. I’d learned by now that he wasn’t at liberty to share the things he knew about my uncle’s personal life. Running of Hell? Yes. Who he was banging? No.

And… unless it was my imagination, the chick sported a rather sizable bump on her belly.

“Oh no.” I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Uncle Luc’s long absences suddenly made sense. And if that bump was what I thought it was, we were all in for some serious trouble.

It looked like the Morningstars were about to have a new addition to the family. I wasn’t sure the world would survive.

For now, I had a little reprieve before that bun came out of the oven and I’d spend it with the two men I loved most, my son and my almost-but-not-quite-until-On-High-got-its-head-out-of-its-ass mate.

Did you miss the first Caith Morningstar novel?
Hell’s Chapel is available now at Amazon.