What Happens in Vegas...After Dark (36 page)

What do you see?”

She studied herself in the mirror’s ref lection—lips swol en from his kisses, hair mussed from his hands. A faint mark marred the skin of her shoulder. Her breasts looked heavy, the nipples red and tight from her excitement.

“I see…lust,” she answered honestly. Her gaze rose to his eyes and the way they warmed when they caught hers in the ref lection. “I see the beginning of love.” Her breath caught. “I see potential.”

“What do you see when you look at your fiancé?”

She blinked and dropped her gaze from his for a moment. “Coldness. Duty.”

“Which would you rather have?”

“There’s no question about what I would rather have. That’s not the issue.”

“Stand up to your father.”

“I would be the first in millennia to break this tradition, Damian.”

“Times change,” he growled.

“Damian—”

“Shhh. The last thing I want to do with you right now is argue.” His voice had dropped into something dark and sinful, like warmed gourmet chocolate. He dropped his hand to her lower stomach and splayed it there. “I wanted to show you how pretty you are because I’m not sure you know.”

He guided her back to sit on the mattress and spread her thighs so her sex was clearly visible in the mirror’s ref lection. Then covered her pussy with his hand. The heat of his palm warmed her and his hand looked so big and masculine between her slender, pale thighs.

“Touch me,” she whispered.

“My current goal in life,” he murmured. He slid a hand up to cup one breast and glide his thumb over the aching nipple. While he did that, he also slid his middle finger deep inside her. Her muscles clenched around the invasion and she gasped his name.

He slid his finger back out, slowly, so she could see it in the mirror’s ref lection. Then back in. Her clit tingled and pulsed, wanting to be stroked. She tipped her head back and moaned.

“Elena, watch what I’m doing to you.”

She tipped her head forward and met his gaze in the mirror.

“Don’t look away. I want you to see that it’s my hand giving you pleasure, my body bracing yours, my cock sliding into your sweet pussy. I want you to see that it’s me who is giving you pleasure now.” He paused a beat. “Not Reynolds.”

Gods, she didn’t want to hear his name now. Not ever.

Damian added another finger to the first, making her muscles stretch a little more and the pleasure more intense. She felt herself grow wetter, saw the gleam of her juices on his fingers on every downward motion. His other hand stroked her nipple, rolled and pinched it just hard enough to send ripples of ecstasy shooting through her.

“Have you ever watched yourself come?” he murmured in her ear.

She shook her head. Her mouth was a little slack, and her body tense. Her pupils were big and dark. Elena had never seen herself like this, so sexually excited. She barely recognized the woman in the mirror as herself, having given in completely to Damian and his command of her body.

He slowly dropped the hand on her breasts to her clit. There, he stroked her over and over, manipulating the bundle of nerves to bring her up to the edge of a climax.

Fascinated, lost to her body’s responses, she watched his big hands move between her thighs, working her pussy just right…

“Come for me, Elena.”

Her climax shattered over her. It was hard to prevent her head from tipping back, hard not to close her eyes, hard not to cry out.

She kept her gaze on her ref lection, watched the way Damian pulled her orgasm out longer and longer. The muscles of her pussy pulsed around his thrusting fingers and her knees went weak. That familiar lack of thought—sensation dominating her world—possessed her as her body rode out the waves of ecstasy until they gradually faded away.

The climax only made her want more. She wanted to touch him, see him experience as much pleasure as he’d just given her.

Feeling almost boneless, she sank down onto the plush carpeting at her feet and turned her back to the mirror, facing him. He stared down at her with a hungry expression on his face, his cock straining against his jeans.

Elena reached up and rubbed his shaft through the material. “Let’s free him, shall we?”

she purred with a lift of her brow.

She made short work of the button and zipper and soon had him naked from the waist down. Damian pulled his shirt over his head, muscles rippling and making her mouth water, and threw the article of clothing to the floor.

Her fingertips played down the length of him, exploring the heavy veins that traversed it. Damian tipped his head back, Adam’s apple jutting, and groaned.

“Uh-uh,” she chastised. “I want you to watch me, Damian. See that it’s my lips on your cock, my tongue licking up and down your shaft. I want you to see it’s me giving you pleasure.”

He tipped his head forward with a grin. “Do your worst, baby.”

Licking her lips, she passed her thumb over the smooth head of his shaft, smearing the bit of precome that beaded there. She dipped her finger down and rubbed it back and forth over the frenulum, making him jolt with pleasure. Then she eased the crown into her mouth and sucked him down as far as she could, almost to the base.

Damian groaned her name and tangled his hands in her hair as she worked him in and out of her mouth. His hips thrust forward a little and his big body tightened. Gods, she loved rendering a strong man helpless to the touch of her lips.

He had her flipped and on her back before she could draw another breath.

Elena yelped in surprise as Damian’s big body pinned hers to the carpet. So much for thinking she’d rendered him helpless.

“That was going to make me come,” he rasped in a low voice, “and when I come I want my cock buried deep inside your sweet pussy and the sound of you calling my name in my ears.”

Elena shivered.

“Is that agreeable to you, baby? Do you want me to fuck this pretty little pussy of yours?”

“Yes,” she managed to answer.

He turned her head to the side so she could see their ref lection in the mirror. “I want you to watch me fuck you, Elena.”

In the ref lection, her eyes were wide. A trill of excitement coursed through her. She wound her legs—pale, thin—around his narrow, tanned waist. Then she returned her gaze to his. “What are you waiting for?”

He leaned in, nipped at her lower lip. “On your stomach.”

She rolled over and he pulled her up on her hands and knees, his hand snaking between her thighs to tease her clit. In the ref lection, she watched his hands move back and forth, stimulating her. Then he pushed her feet apart and slid her rear into the cradle of his pelvis. The head of his cock jutted her pussy.

His expression was intense, his gaze running over the slope of her back and nip of her waist, his fingers trailing in its wake. He touched her like she was some rare and beautiful piece of artwork, something he could appreciate just for tonight and no longer than that.

Damian swore low and guided his cock into her pussy. The muscles of his thighs and buttocks flexed as he pushed deep into her body.

Elena bowed her head and hit the floor with a closed fist. “Yes, Damian, that feels so good.” He was long and wide and stretched her muscles exquisitely, gave her the impression she was totally possessed and filled.

He held on to her hips and began to thrust. In the mirror’s ref lection she could see his shaft on every outward motion, glistening wet with her juices. Damian came down over her body, taking her harder and faster. Her breath caught on an inhale as another climax flirted hard with her body.

Damian reached around and slid his hand between her thighs to stroke her clit even as the head of his cock brushed her G-spot deep within her in this position.

“Oh, gods, I’m going to come,” she breathed. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“Never.”

Another orgasm took her over, made her head snap back and stars explode on the back of her eyelids. She lost all ability to remain on her hands and knees and Damian turned her to her back, remounted her, and began to slow his pace.

Elena panted, feeling sated and relaxed beyond belief.

“It’s good between us, isn’t it?” Damian murmured, his mouth a breath’s space from hers. “We know how to touch each other.” His cock slid in and out of her at a slower pace now. She could feel every massive inch of him deep in the heart of her body.

She touched his cheek, a heaviness settling in her chest. “Of course it’s good between us. We’re heartstrings. It’s why I feel so comfortable with you.”

Damian said nothing for a moment, then he dipped his head and kissed her deeply while his cock glided in and out of her. When he finally came, he did it with her name spilling from his lips.

H e stayed the night with her.

He put her in her bed and pulled her near, wrapping his arms around her. They stayed awake until the morning, talking about their families, their lives, getting to know each other.

For Elena it seemed retroactive, and she was sure Damian felt the same way. They already knew each other. They’d known each other from the first time their gazes had collided. To find out now that Damian’s favorite ice cream was Chunky Monkey and for him to discover she absolutely loathed the smell of lavender seemed almost inconsequential. Like somewhere way deep down they’d already known these things about each other.

It was magic.

For the entire night, in the softly lit room, Damian touched her. His hands ran over her breasts, teased her nipples. He stroked her clit and delved deep inside her pussy. Twice more during the night he made her come, bringing her softly and easily again and then again.

He knew just how to touch her, just where, to bring her the maximum amount of pleasure. Close to dawn when Damian’s hands finally fell away and his breathing deepened to sleep, she felt his ghost hands still roving her body.

If only those ghost hands would remain on her body forever. They’d be a distant second to the real thing, but at least they’d be something. They’d be better than Reynolds’s hands on her.

Elena closed her eyes against the bitter prick of tears. She couldn’t imagine Reynolds touching her now. The thought made her shudder.

Eventually she drifted into a fitful, light sleep.

“Don’t marry him.”

She opened her eyes at the soft murmur. Damian was staring down at her, love warming his eyes. He stroked her hair. “Don’t marry him, Elena,” he repeated.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Damian, you don’t understand our ways yet. You don’t understand—”

He forced himself up and away from her, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“You keep saying that. I understand enough to know your ways are cruel and silly. If you don’t love this man, don’t tie your life to his forevermore, Elena.” He drew a careful breath. “Please, don’t take yourself away from me once I’ve finally found you.”

Elena pushed up onto her elbows. “Damian.” She squeezed her eyes shut and a tear slid down her cheek. “I’ve known I had to do this since I was a toddler. It’s my duty to my race to marry Reynolds and bear his children. I must.”

“Bullshit.”

“If I don’t go through with the wedding, I wil shame my family beyond belief. If you had grown up fae, you would understand this, Damian, and you wouldn’t even ask…

heartstring or not.”

Damian stood and paced the floor. “Elena, don’t you realize how special our heartstring is? Some people go their whole lives searching for that one person they can spend their life with. That one individual who will best fill in the parts they’re lacking. You are that person for me, as I am for you. For the rest of our lives, we will never find another more perfect fit than we’ve found in each other.”

“I know.” Her lower lip trembled and sorrow squeezed her chest. He was what she needed in her life—something raw, a little bit unordered, primal, full of life and passion.

He turned to her. “I won’t let you marry him, Elena. I won’t. Consider that my promise to you.” He shook his head. “I won’t break it.”

Her wedding day dawned bright and sunny.

Well, of course it did. It was in her father’s massive pocket of reality. It was sunny because he willed it that way.

Elena allowed her five cousins and three aunts to fuss and primp her as she stared out the window of her dressing room in the mansion. Just steps away loomed the fae church, where she would be marrying Reynolds in just a short time. The Church of the Morrigan had floated to this reality for the day, at her father’s behest. Fae of al sorts, even some vampires and demons, roamed the lawn of the mansion, making their way into the tall gray stone building to find their seats.

Elena’s hands shook.

“There, there, dear,” hushed her aunt Eloise. “All women are nervous on their wedding day.”

Gah! Elena was drowning, dying, and no one noticed. No one cared.

She closed her eyes for a moment and pushed the self-indulgent thought and their accompanying emotions away. Along with it she banished the image of Damian that always appeared unbidden. She couldn’t afford to think of him, not now. If she could she would banish him from her mind forevermore. To think of him after this day would only bring pain.

She would marry Reynolds today and do what her family required of her. Tomorrow she would pack her things and move to New York and the fae underworld there. She would forget her heartstring and try to make a life for herself as best she could. Hell, she’d be the toast of the New York fae, she’d have plenty to keep her occupied. None of it very appealing.

What Elena truly wanted to do, the thing her status and bloodline would not allow her to do, was make pottery and sell it. Inside her beat the heart of an entrepreneur. She wanted to make her pottery-making hobby more than that, but her birth and position in fae culture made that impossible.

But complaining about it was silly, not to mention ungrateful. Her father and her family had given her everything she’d needed in life as far as material possessions went. Elena had wanted for nothing. It was time she paid them back.