Lust (23 page)

“Take my cock in your hand, Chastity, and pleasure me.” With ruthless determination he curled her fingers around his thickness and pressed himself into her hand. “Play with me, Chastity.”

She did not know what to do, other than to slide her fingers along the satiny skin. She was startled by the feel of him. How hard, yet how soft the skin was. She could barely wrap her fingers around him, he was so thick.

She must have been doing an admirable job, for he groaned and thrust his hips forward, sliding his erection up the length of her palm. Closing her eyes, she let her head rest against his, her breath near his ear. His whole body tensed, then his mouth was everywhere, on her throat, the tops of her breasts, her lips. His hands were roaming the contour of her figure and his fingers cupped and stroked every inch of her burning skin. Her heart was pounding so fast she felt light-headed and yet she could not stop what was happening even if she desired to. This passion, the feel of him surrounding her, the intimacy of his tongue in her mouth as he possessed her lips was nothing she thought ever to experience. It was heaven, bliss, an erotic sensation she could easily find herself addicted to.

Fisting her hand in his silky hair, she brought him closer, seeking his heat and his tongue dancing with hers.
He growled and brought his hand up to her throat. His thumb rubbed the pulsating vein in her neck, lulling her into a dreamlike state. He kissed her into a stupor, and mindlessly she moved her fingers until she was teasing him with just a little graze of her finger over the tip of his ear.

Tearing his mouth from hers, he thrust his hips forward again and she curled her fingers tighter around his erection. Sliding her hand down, then up, she pleasured him, listening to his sucking breaths, feeling the tightening of his body, forgetting that she had no experience in pleasing a man—or fey.

He reached between their bodies and placed his hand atop hers, showing her how to hold him and stroke him. When he increased the rhythm of her strokes, his voice was a ragged rasp. She trembled when she felt his breath against her ear.

He was hard, the tip of his phallus was thick and throbbing. He groaned when she swirled her finger along the wet tip of him, and the sound made her feel bold. She wanted to please him, to discover what he desired.

“Slide your hand down me,” he rasped against her neck. “Let me feel your fingers around me, stroking me.”

She did what he asked, sliding her hand up and down, feeling him thicken and lengthen within her fingers. With a hissing breath, he reached for her skirts and gathered the filmy fabric in his hands, raising it until she could feel his hands grazing her thighs.

Lost to the passion inside her, Chastity did not allow
herself to think, to feel guilt, to remind herself that she was supposed to be virtuous and chaste, for she wanted to be anyone else tonight. Anyone but a virtue.

Gripping him firmer, she boldly cupped the soft sac of skin between his legs at the same time he ripped her petticoats. He stroked her sex and she froze at the intimacy of it, but as soon as she felt him part her and his finger stroke the sensitive nub, she moaned and writhed against his hand.

“See how you play with fire?”

She moaned, wanted more, her whole body quivering.

“This is what I feel when you touch my ears. When you breathe against them—put your tongue to them.”

The sensation was mind-numbing. Thought shattering.
More
…was the only word she could find.

“Spread your legs for me—wide.” Not waiting for her to comply, he lifted her leg so that her foot rested on the arm of the chair.

“What are you doing?” she cried, steadying herself by holding on to his shoulders.

“Tasting you.” Then his hot tongue raked along her folds. “Teasing you, like you teased me.” He blew against her, then lashed his tongue once more, parting her folds. “You're so aroused, I want to taste it,” he murmured. She whimpered in shame and pleasure.

“Hold your skirts,” he demanded, shoving a fistful of taffeta in her hands. Before she knew his intent, he spread her sex with his fingers and circled her opening with his tongue. “I am so eager to put my cock in here.” His voice
was full of passion and it made her knees weak. “Would you like that, Chastity? My cock in here, pounding into you.”

“Yes,” she cried, feeling her body coil tightly. And then he was circling the nubbin of flesh with his tongue, flicking it so that she was gripping his hair and thrusting her hips in a rhythm he matched with his mouth.

He rubbed her with his mouth, his lips and nose, and she cried out, her fingers lacing tightly in his hair. And then, to give him some of the pleasure he was giving her, she brushed her thumbs along both his ears, and he growled, burying his face between her legs as he ravished her with his mouth.

With a keening cry, she straightened, her body tense, her eyes tightly shut. She didn't think she could bear such pleasure, but then he lowered her leg and stood, bringing his mouth down hard on hers, stifling her cries, while his fingers thrust into her, filling her full, stroking the last of her climax from her body.

She collapsed against him, and he held her tight. She was completed, but he was starving. His black blood needing her. Lust was ready to toss her onto the floor and take her.

He knew he was too weak to resist. He could no longer defy his Unseelie desires, and Lust's need.

She'd given him her name, he had power over her, and he used it. Just this once, he told himself. Silently, he commanded her to waken, to fight the languid feeling in her body, and instead feel the aching emptiness inside her.

“Thane,” she moaned, brushing restless against him. “Please, I need…”

“I know what you need.”

Thane couldn't help but growl when he felt Chastity's beautiful tits graze his chin. He was delighting in stroking the vein of her neck with his tongue, and she was delighting in torturing him with her pert nipples, teasing him into suckling her. But he would resist—ignore—the predator within that was clamoring to devour the delightful morsel in his arms.

It wasn't enough to fling her onto her back and embed himself within her. It might have satisfied his craving if she'd been one of the courtesans or opera dancers he frequented. But this was Chastity—the woman he wanted above all others, the woman he had to seduce, to make understand that what she thought was truly him couldn't be further from the truth.

He wanted to awaken her, to make her mindless with need, to slowly satisfy her. He didn't want their first time to be a quick rut—and by the way his cock was swelling and filling, he knew it would be too quick. No, he wanted the awakening of Chastity to be slow and sensual. He wanted to feel her tight against him, then slowly stretch to accommodate him. Unfortunately, if she didn't quit writhing in his arms, brushing her tits against his face and rubbing her mound against his trousers, he was going to grab her hips and take her in an act of raw possession.

The vision took hold, and in an impulsive but highly satisfying act, he took her breasts in his hands, pushing
them together and burying his face between them, inhaling the sweet and innocent floral scent of her while nuzzling her skin, his thumbs coaxing her nipples to harden further for him.

The sound was a guttural cry from deep in her throat. The need, the desire he heard pushed him on, and he squeezed, then tugged and pinched at her nipples, while his mouth continued to suck the milky flesh of her breasts. Her fingers were on his shoulders, tightening, biting as he took one straining nipple into his mouth, sipping it between his lips before suckling, pulling the flesh into his mouth, drinking in her passion with increasing need. She moaned, and rubbed her curls along him while he sucked, his other hand kneading a path down to her belly.

She arched beautifully into his mouth as he increased his suckling, his tongue flicking out to soothe and lave the reddened nipple. When he grasped it between his teeth and gently bit, she shivered, her stomach delightfully quivering beneath his fingers. He'd never felt that before—the quivering of a woman as desire and need swept through her. He'd been aware of the need in his conquests from the tightening of their breasts, the scent and wetness of their arousal, but he'd never taken the time to study them, to run his fingers along their bodies and discover where else they might feel desire.

“Oh, God,” Chastity moaned, unable to stem the shaking of her limbs as his fingers swept over her belly and along her sides. If he would only touch her
there
. If she could just feel his fingers buried deep within her she
could be rid of this escalating desire, a pleasure almost painful in its intensity. Fool that she was, she wanted him. Her body ached for him, her heart pleaded with her mind to give him another chance.
Let him prove himself,
it whispered.

Gooseflesh flickered down her spine and along her bottom as Thane's wickedly sensual fingers swept down her back, tickling her buttocks and trailing down the backs of her thighs.

“Touch me, Thane…like before,” she whispered, frantic to feel his fingers in her wetness.

“I'm not sure what you mean.” He brought her breasts together again, his eyes challenging her—daring her to say the words.

“Please,” she whimpered, silently telling him by rubbing her wet curls against him. “You know where.”

He tickled her then, his fingers slowly grazing the top of her mound, his fingers curling in her hair, tempting her, making her wish to beg for his touch. Chastity felt the warmth pool as he slid one finger along her wetness. He parted her, slipping one finger, then another deep within her.

“Do you know what you do to me?” Thane asked, meeting her eyes through the fringe of his sable lashes.

“So pure and innocent to look at, but I get one hand on you and you're wanton and hot. You're every man's fantasy, Chastity.”

“Every man? But you're a fey.”

He groaned, probing her deeper. “Come for me, Chas
tity. It's been too long since I had you, since I felt you on my hand.”

Gods, it wasn't supposed to be happening this way, Thane thought through the thick cloud of lust. Her deflowering was supposed to be gentle, romantic, soft as a dove's feather. He was supposed to take her into the bath, kiss her, stroke her, murmur words of love before laying her on the bed and slowly, carefully sliding inside her. It damn well wasn't part of his plan to have her straddling him, his cock in her hand, poised at her entrance, her tits bobbing in his mouth.

This was Lust, trying to take over. He couldn't allow it.

“Mmm, Thane,” she purred against him, her lips pouting in ecstasy, her fingers running wildly through his hair, her hips moving up and down to the rhythm of his fingers. “This feels so good—so right.” She sighed.

But he didn't want to take her like this. He didn't know what the hell he wanted. He wanted her to ride him, he wanted to watch her bend before him as he slid into her in an act of raw possession, he wanted to make love to her, watching the wonder in her eyes, to hear her guttural cries of release when he fucked her soundly, pumping himself into her, making her realize that she was his, and only his.

God, he wanted so much. Slow and loving—hard and needy. He desired it all, everything she would give him. Hell, he hadn't shown her a fraction of what he wanted to do. He'd planned to lick her, to taste her and pleasure her with his mouth, to lap her as he made her come. He
wanted to watch her learn him, to see her luscious mouth around his cock before he claimed her body. And yet, he could think of nothing more than making her his before anything could happen to stop it.

“Thane,” she cried, surprised to find herself on her back with him bent between her legs. He'd at least made it to the bed. Lust had wanted her on the floor.

“I told you that I'd make you mine. You understand what that will mean, don't you, Chastity?”

“That I will no longer be a virgin.”

“No, that you will belong to me—only me.”

Chastity gasped, then moaned, feeling the unforgiving hardness of him slide into her body. Slowly, inexorably penetrating her. His breathing was harsh, short pants, almost groans escaping his lips as he filled her.

“You're so wonderfully snug.”

“You feel…” Chastity squirmed beneath his weight, delighting in his husky moan. “You feel rather large.” She skimmed her hands over Thane's muscled back and down to his bottom, which was rock hard between her thighs. Instinctively she put her legs around his waist, letting him go deeper, penetrating her farther.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, straightening from her and cupping her bottom in his hands, his gaze trained on where their bodies were joined. He stroked her a few times, letting her stretch, letting her grow wetter around him, all the while watching as he filled her.

“Chastity?” he asked, his voice horse. “I want you to look at me as I make you mine.”

She met his gaze, her heart skipping a beat as she
watched every muscle in his chest and arms taut with tension—with virile strength. His eyes were a deep dark blue, and his lips were furled in a devastating grin. With one quick, deep thrust he impaled her, quickly moaning then covering her with his body, slowly moving, allowing her to accustom herself to his size and the feel of him moving atop her.

The pain wasn't as bad as she'd feared. It was a brief pinching, burning sensation before quickly giving way to a delicious feeling of being consumed by her beautiful Dark Fey.

“Move with me,” he encouraged, taking her hands in his and raising them above her head so that he covered the whole length of her body, his chest rubbing against her breasts, tickling and sensitizing her nipples. The bed creaked, and Thane's breathing was sharper, harsher then she'd ever heard. With every stroke he thrust deeper inside her, making her moan as she matched his rhythm. Suddenly his body shook and he cried out her name before shuddering atop her.