Midnight's Kiss(73)

Her face flooded with heat. Pulling back, she muttered, “Sorry.”

Incredulity sharpened his gaze. “You’re sorry?”

Her shoulders crept up to her ears. “I just grabbed hold and started sucking. Then I thought maybe I should have asked first.”

Amusement bolted over his hard features, completely banishing his moody isolation.

Then, sobering — or at least appearing to — he said, “Melly, please suck me off. Fasten your sexy mouth around my cock and pull on me until I don’t have anything left to give. My God, just looking at the erotic shape of your lips makes me want to spill all over your gorgeous face…”

His blunt, raw language brought even greater heat to her cheeks, even as she pulsed in greater arousal at the images he evoked. She had always reveled in his earthy, unashamed sexuality.

Toward the end, though, she had to hold up both hands as she started to giggle. “Okay, thank you for that exposition. You can stop now.”

“But I’m not done,” he said, his eyes glinting wickedly. “I need to tell you in great detail how much I want to sink my hands in your hair and fuck your mouth. Just so that we’re clear.”

A snort exploded out of her nose. She felt pretty sure her blush had extended to cover the whole of her upper body. Naked, his erection still quite stiff, he rested his hands on his hips and laughed down at her.

Then his laughter faded into something much more serious. Kneeling in front of her, he framed her face in both calloused hands while he searched her expression. He said, “You and I used to laugh a lot.”

“Yes,” she said softly. “We did.”

“I’d almost forgotten what it was like to laugh out loud.” His words were almost soundless. “I’ve gotten to a really dark place, Melly. The darkest place I’ve ever been.”

“You don’t have to be there anymore,” she told him gently. “Don’t you know what happens at the darkest point of the day?”

He stroked her soft lower lip with the ball of one thumb. “What?”

She rubbed her fingers soothingly along his muscled forearms. “A beautiful, brand-new day begins, and it’s all fresh and full of promise.” She smiled into his gaze. “That’s why magic in the fairy tales happens at midnight, you know. When you reach that point, you have the power to change everything.”

Closing his eyes, he turned his head to press his lips against her fingers as they rested on his arm. They held like that, unmoving, until she leaned forward to kiss his temple.

At that he wrapped his arms around her, and it wasn’t just a mere hug. There was so much damn passion in it. He enfolded her. He held on to her like she was his lifeline and he was a drowning man, and he cradled her at the same time, showing her with his body how he considered her precious.

She had been exhausted before, but now she was wide awake and concentrating fiercely on every moment. How he cradled the back of her head. The expression in his eyes as he looked into hers. He was a man of violent tendencies and deep emotion. It had always amazed her that he could have such a tremendous capacity for tenderness.

When he covered her mouth with his, she met him gladly, and the concussion of arousal that blasted through her was deeper and more profound than anything she had ever experienced before.

Not even what they had shared twenty years ago came close. Things had been powerful before, but so much simpler, and even at times naive, at least on her part.

Now, complexity of emotion played through her like a symphony, the familiar juxtaposed with the new. She wasn’t sure that her skin could contain it all, and she shook from the force of it, her mouth working under his.

In response, he muttered something against her lips. It sounded like a curse. Hooking one arm underneath her knees, he lifted her all the way onto the bed and climbed over her, while slanting his mouth over hers. He speared her with his tongue, hard and deep, while he supported his weight on one elbow and ran a hand down her torso.

His fingers were shaking. Or maybe she was shaking. Breaking away from his kiss, she plunged upward. She had so many competing impulses, she tried to do everything at once — rubbing her face against the sprinkle of hair on the wide expanse of his chest, reaching between his legs to cup him again.

He sank a fist in her hair and pulled her head back, wordlessly demanding she offer her neck to him. She loved — loved — his barbarism. Gasping, she let her head fall back, trusting to his hold, while she arched her body up to him.

Her gesture caused him to growl deep in his throat. He bit her neck — not as a Vampyre, not breaking the skin — but quick, erotic nips that shivered down the length of her body and escalated her growing need.