Chapter 12
Adam’s fangs dropped for the briefest of moments.
Victoria’s eyes widened, and she craned her neck to see better. “Witches have fangs? Like vampires?” she whispered.
“Aye.” All immortals had fangs. He retracted his, flattening his hand over her upper chest. Small. Delicate. His body rioted as he slid down and cupped one breast.
Her eyelashes closed and then swept open. A pretty pink spread across her face. Ah, the woman was so responsive.
Grasping her hips, he lifted her to the back of the sofa, stepping in so she had to open her legs. His fingers snagged the strap of her bra, and he drew it down her arm, prolonging the sensation.
She trembled.
The hunter inside him, the one he’d banished in favor of cold logic and strategy, stretched awake. “You’re beautiful, Victoria,” he murmured, tossing the bra to the ground. Her breasts were heavy and full, her nipples the light pink of a true blonde. He trailed his fingers across one, and the trembling of her body warmed him. “Stunning.”
She leaned into his touch and reached for his shirt. “You’re overdressed.” Her nails scraped his abdomen as she yanked the material up.
He ducked his head so she could pull off the wet mess.
“Oh, Adam.” She stroked down his torso, her nails light. Fire streaked through him to land in his groin, which already pounded like he’d never had sex before. “I could touch you all day,” she murmured.
Aye. He could get on board with that plan. Moving in to her again, he gripped her chin and lifted her face, kissing her deep. She tasted like ginger and something temptingly sweet, all Victoria, wild and succulent . . . and, for the moment, his. Oh, this was a mistake, and he should back away. Instead, he leaned forward and nibbled along her lips, winding across her jaw to sink a fang into her earlobe. The second she’d grasped him on the bike, the moment had become inevitable.
She grabbed onto his ribs, the smoothness of her skin against his a reminder to go slow.
Then, even with his mouth working hers, she reached between them and found his cock, stroking him from base to tip over his jeans. He jerked against her, and his head swam. A second later, she unzipped his jeans, freeing him.
He slid his hand around, grasping her neck. Then he released her lips, tilting his head to study her eyes.
Need and want . . . along with triumph. Yeah. Interesting.
She stroked him, and pleasure streaked through him, making him swell in her palm. His lids half lowered. “You’re used to being in control,” he said. It was made as a statement—no need to question.
She smiled then, a woman secure in her place. In her curvy body.
Fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
“Control is an illusion,” she murmured. Her nails scraped his balls.
Fire shot through him. He growled low.
“I guess I just like your body.” Her hand tightened around the base of his shaft.
He let her stroke him, enjoying her soft touch, trying to see more than she’d let him. Oh, what would it be like to get this woman out of her head, to really find all of her? For the first time, he could see the complexity that was Victoria Monzelle. The wild child, the hot singer, the secret-keeping woman—they were all facets of her. The core of her, who she truly was . . . remained hidden.
Not for long.
He ran his thumb down the delicate skin on her neck, felt her racing pulse, and tightened his hold.
Intrigue and desire leaped into her eyes.
Aye. A wild woman, to be sure.
His free hand snapped her pants open, ripping the zipper away.
She gasped and then chuckled. “Nice.”
Yeah. That was him. Nice.
Challenge curved her lips. “There’s not much you can do with me sitting here.” Her chin lifted just as her nails scraped his entire length.
He sucked in air as electricity burned him from within. Though he didn’t know her, not really, one thing was abundantly clear. No way could she win this one. “You sure about that?” he asked, his hand remaining around her throat.
She smiled, the mystery of feminine power all but rolling from her.
Blast but she was incredible.
“Kick off your boots, lass,” he whispered, his brogue breaking free.
Her breath hitched. Ah, she liked the brogue. ’Twas good, that. Then she toed off the boots, and they clunked on the floor. Still feeling pretty safe, now wasn’t she? He hadn’t spent centuries studying quantum physics and the rest of the physical sciences for nothing. If he was careful, since they were in the middle of nowhere, he could use a whiff of his powers without getting caught. With a wave of his free hand, blue fire enveloped her jeans, burning them away and then dying out.
Her mouth gaped open, and she looked down at her bare legs. “You, how, what?” Then her head snapped up, the challenge brighter than ever. “My panties survived the burning by Adam.”
He swirled one finger in the air, creating a flame, twisting it around and around.
Her eyes widened, and she tried to shove herself away from him and over the back of the sofa. Ah, she’d forgotten about the hand around her throat. He held her in place, almost easily, and moved the finger toward those pretty mint green panties.
She stopped breathing and watched, her gaze fascinated and wary. The combination almost made him come right then, even though she’d finally released his cock.
“Adam?” she asked, sucking in her stomach.
“Aye?” he answered, flicking the flame across the thin material. The green turned to white and then burned away.
She coughed and then laughed, joy in the sound. “That was awesome.” The flame continued on, controlled by his index finger. She tried to inch away. “Um—”
He ran it along her labia, keeping it hot but not burning. She gasped, and her legs trembled. He dropped to his knees and kissed her clit, forcing the flame along her thigh and controlling it to keep from burning any part of her.
She moaned, and trembles shook her thighs.
He tasted her then, running his tongue where his finger had blazed. Woman and spice . . . with a hint of sweetness. Everything he could imagine, even better, right there for the taking.
She gasped and pushed against him. For answer, he flattened his hands on her thighs, forcing them wider. Then he set in to torture her. Using his fingers, his flame, his tongue—he nipped, licked, and sucked. Within minutes, she gyrated against him, muttering and pleading off and on. He could feel the tension in her beating against him. The desperate need to come. His legs tangled in his jeans, and his cock pounded with pain.
She grabbed his hair and pulled before shoving him closer to her.
He chuckled, and she moaned. Then he increased the pressure of his tongue right on her clit, lashing until she broke. Her entire body jerked and stiffened, and her thighs clamped hard on his shoulders. He prolonged her ecstasy until she came down with a muffled whimper. Then he stood and kicked his jeans across the room.
Her eyelids partially closed, and a small smile lifted her pouty lips. Her gaze dropped to his erect cock. “I don’t suppose you can create fire with that, can you?”
* * *
Tori couldn’t think, much less move. Her body was partially satisfied, with a huge hint of needing more. Adam was even more spectacular nude than he was in faded jeans and a badass T-shirt. His dick was long and thick . . . and harder than rock. He had no shyness about his nudity. Why would he? Seriously. He had muscles, hard and roped, where she hadn’t realized muscles could be. But he wasn’t all bumpy or out of proportion like guys she’d seen on television. Instead, he was long and lean with a natural physique. Like a wild animal.
He swept her up, easily holding her against his chest before turning toward a door next to the massive stone fireplace.
She traced the hard cord in his neck, marveling at his sheer maleness. Reaching up, she licked along his jugular. “I think your neck is my most favorite thing in the world.”
“We’ll have to change your mind about that,” he said dryly, tension in his tone.
She chuckled. Adam was funny. Who knew?
He carried her into a quaint bedroom with a huge bed covered by a wedding ring quilt. Oak tables with gas lanterns sat beside the bed. The room smelled like wood polish and cleansers. A window opposite the bed was open, letting in the breeze and the rhythmic drumming of rain. He set her down gently, as if he was afraid of harming her.
“You can’t break me,” she murmured, sliding her hands down the outside of his thighs.
A knuckle under her chin lifted her face. “Ah, baby. I won’t break you. Don’t assume I couldn’t.” He pressed a kiss to her nose and pushed her down on her back.
Not for a second did she think he meant physically. He was smart, and classy, and even fun with the whole fire thing, but she’d never let any man get close enough to hurt her. Not ever again. But she’d sure enjoy every second she had with Adam. She reached for him, and he covered her. The second all that hard muscled warmth rested against her, desire spiraled even hotter than before. She widened her legs.
He rolled then, flipped her on top of him. She yelped, clutching his pecs to stay on him, her hair flying in every direction.
“Figured you’d want to play a bit,” he said, his voice rough. Both hands wrapped around her breasts and slid, tugging her nipples toward him. Pleasure streaked straight from his fingers to her clit, and she pressed down on the hard length of his erection. Were all witches like him? Something told her Adam was gifted, something special, even among his own people.
She stilled. “Wait a minute. You can’t mate me, right?”
“No.” He reached up and pulled her head down, hissing out a breath when her pebbled nipples moved along his chest. “To mate, I need to bite you and brand you. I won’t do either.”
Curiosity swirled through her. “Brand me? With a branding iron?”
He frowned. “No. Long story. A brand from my hand transfers to you.” He held up his smooth palm. “It’s not here. No worries.”
What the heck? “Why isn’t it there?”
He apparently got bored with the conversation, because he rolled her nipples again, his gaze caught by his own action. “It just appears when a mate is near. Or rather, a potential mate. Fate somehow plays a part.” He pulled harder, and she gasped, moving with his hands this time. “Or it’s biology. Probably biology. Some sort of recognition on a genetic level.” Fire flashed from his fingers and captured her nipples.
She moaned from the delicious snap of pain that turned to pleasure. Wait. She needed to think. Wetness spilled from her to cover him, and she couldn’t keep from rubbing against his cock. “Ah, can you, um, bite me without mating me?”
His eyes flashed.
She blinked.
“Aye. Want me to bite you?” Gravel roughened his low voice.
She nodded. “I think so.” Tossing her head to the side, she bared her neck to him. “Will it hurt?”
He slid his hand in her hair and tugged her to the side. “You like a little pain, baby.” His other hand clamped on her hip, and he rolled them until he lay on top of her again. “If I’m biting you, I’m on top.”
Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head from the feeling of his hard penis resting on her clit. God, he felt too good.
His fingers twisted, and he turned her neck, holding her in place. She looked at the far wall, tingles exploding through her abdomen. She couldn’t breathe. Was this a mistake? She panted, trying to fill her lungs.
A fang scraped her neck, and she jumped.
He licked her, taking his time. If she asked him to stop, would he? She tried to turn her head back toward him, but he didn’t let her. More tingles . . . harder explosions. She gave up breathing and just held her breath.
His fangs slid in, so sharp it didn’t hurt. She felt the movement of his mouth, of her skin, but no pain. Then he was licking her, hurtling streaks of raw pleasure from his mouth through her entire body. Then he levered himself up and pressed against her, pushing inside her with long, sure strokes.
More pain combined with pleasure as he took his time, worked her body, allowed her to grow accustomed to his size.
She stilled. “Wait. Protection?”
He chuckled and pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m a witch with no diseases. We can’t get any. Protection would just burn off, anyway.”
She blinked, her body overtaken.
“Widen your thighs more, baby. I need more room,” he whispered, laying gentle kisses on her eyelids, nose, and mouth.
She obeyed, thrilling at the feeling of his strong body pinning her to the bed. “Wh-what about pregnancy?” she asked, her mind already drifting away.
“Have to be mated,” he said, pushing hard to embed himself fully inside her.
The word mated softened everything inside her. Why, she’d have to figure out later. Her thighs ached from being so far apart, but the pain inside her, the need for him to move, was even stronger. She ran her nails down his back, no doubt drawing blood.
His lips drew back at the rough treatment.
She nipped his lip. “Start moving. Now.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He held her hip down with one strong hand and pulled out, pushing back in.
It was too good. Way beyond good. He stroked nerves inside her that had to be new. Had to have just arrived because of him. They weren’t there before. She lifted her knees to take more of him.
He growled. An actual, animalistic, growl.
Everything inside her shuddered and swelled. More. She needed more.
As if hearing her unspoken plea, he started to pound. Hard and strong, he stroked inside her, giving her more than she’d ever imagined. Lights flashed behind her eyes. She scooted her butt down an inch, and his shaft caressed her clit on the way in. Oh God. He moved faster, angling more, hitting a spot inside her she’d never known before.
The room sheeted white and then went dark. Sparks flew behind her eyes, slashing through her with sharp claws of devastating ecstasy. She cried out, arching against him, her nails digging in enough she could feel his flesh give. The orgasm wrung her out, taking everything. She finally gave, her body going limp against the bed.
He bit her again, this time harder, so she could feel the burn.
With a shudder, he came with her name on his lips.
Her heart beat wildly, and her neck hurt. Her whole body felt like it had tumbled down stairs and then taken the best drug ever made. She was satisfied beyond measure. Yet her mind rioted. It spun and twirled . . . throwing warning down her spine. She had to be careful. Adam Dunne was more than she’d imagined a man could be. Maybe because he wasn’t a man.
He lifted up and placed a soft kiss on her nose. “That was a nice start.”