Dark Embers (25 page)

Color rose from her breasts, up her throat to her cheeks, but she did as he asked. Leaning forward, she braced her hands on his shoulders and let her eyes tangle with his.

“Good girl.” His talisman was burning, the sapphire so hot he was sure his skin would blister where it rested. But he didn’t take the time to remove it.

Instead, he took Phoebe in his mouth, this time closing his teeth gently over her clit. She bucked wildly against him, but he held her in place with his broad shoulders and the smooth, cold wall. He took her over and over again, his tongue wicked and wild and completely inescapable.

Without Dylan in front of her and the wall behind her, Phoebe knew her shaky knees would have collapsed a long time before. As it was, Dylan was bearing most of her weight, even as his tongue did things to her body she’d never known were possible.

He stared at her the entire time he was doing it, his black eyes smoldering like the darkest embers as he commanded her with a flick of his fingers, a stab of his tongue, a press of his hot, hard chest. The look in his eyes hurtled her into another orgasm and then another, until she was going from one peak to the next in a never-ending climax.

Pleading, she tried to pull him up and into her, but Dylan would have none of it. He merely laughed, the vibrations hitting her too-sensitive clit and sending her spinning into oblivion all over again.

She struggled against him, but his fingers only gripped her more firmly. And then he was lifting her so that she was directly above him, her sex resting so close to his mouth, she could feel his breath against her. Her legs draped over his shoulders, and his powerful arms held her like she weighed no more than a rag doll. When he had her positioned exactly where he wanted her, he speared his tongue inside her and lapped at her from the inside out.

Another orgasm coursed through her, more powerful than the others, and her entire body convulsed with pleasure. She would have screamed if she’d had the breath for it, but he had stripped her of everything—air, muscle control, even the ability to think.

And still he continued, taking her further. Taking her outside herself and into him, until she ceased to exist as an entity separate from him. There was no more Phoebe, no more disease, no more questions that needed to be answered. There was only Dylan and the incredible, terrifying control he exerted over every part of her.

Wave after wave of ecstasy hit her, washing her away from the shelter of the building and into the moonlit desert she had fallen in love with at first glance. She felt power well up around her, within her, a stirring deep inside as he continued his relentless assault. The wind picked up, whipping ferociously past them, beating against everything it ran across.

Dylan sheltered her with his body, but he was so hot, she felt like she was being burned alive.

Her vision narrowed, her pulse accelerated. The earth shook beneath them, and still he drove her higher. He held her still, his immense strength a fitting reflection of the thing bursting free within her, and thrust his tongue into her sex again. She whimpered because she could do nothing else. He was killing her,
killing her
, and she couldn’t take any more.

Everything inside her, every molecule, every drop of air, was converging. Fear welled up inside her—fear of him, fear of herself, fear of the reaction he inspired so effortlessly within her—and she started to struggle.

Dylan seemed to understand the roots of her sudden panic, for in a heartbeat, his tongue went from deep and stabbing to light and fluttering. He closed his mouth around her gently, so gently that she saw stars like those that shone in the darkest part of the desert sky above them. Pure, sweet, brilliant light exploded behind her eyes, and she arched up despite herself. Demanding more even as she fought against it.

He laughed as he slid a finger inside her and found her most sensitive spot. He rubbed against it from the inside even while his mouth continued its tender, unbreachable assault from the outside. His tongue went again to her clit, flicking back and forth, back and forth, hurtling her into an intense orgasm.

And still he didn’t stop.

It was too much. Blackness hovered at the edges of her mind, and she realized she was close to losing consciousness. “Dylan!” It was a high-pitched whimper as she clung to him—her only sanity in the maelstrom of emotions beating through her, into her.

He lifted his mouth and stood, pulling her against his chest with one fluid movement. Then he carried her to the back of the huge SUV he had had parked in the lot for her use and tore open the back. The inside seats were folded down, so there was plenty of room for the two of them as he stretched her trembling body out and climbed in next to her.

She was exhausted, fully sated, but still she wanted him. Craved him. Needed him next to her, above her, beneath her, inside her. She tried to tell him so, but the connections between her brain and the rest of her body still weren’t working correctly. So she simply lay there and enjoyed the show as Dylan unbuttoned his jeans and slowly peeled them down his long, heavily muscled thighs.

His erection was huge—so thick and hard it actually made her mouth water to look at him. Captivated by him, desperate to feel his hardness between her hands, she finally got her brain to issue an intelligible order to the rest of her body. Reaching for him, she murmured, “My turn.”

He grinned, then leaned over her, his hands clamping on her shoulders and pressing her into the rough carpet as he settled next to her. “Eventually.”

“I don’t want to wait that long.” She knew there was something different about him, something different about this entire community he had thrust her into, but at the moment, she didn’t care. Her need for the answers simply disappeared, and in its place was a determination to have him and this night with him—to enjoy every single moment of it, and to hell with the consequences.

Smiling, she clasped her hands around his beautiful cock and began to stroke.

The breath slammed out of him as every muscle in Dylan’s body tightened to the point of pain. He fought for control, but there was none. Fought to relax, but that was impossible as her hands and mouth skimmed over him. Sparks exploded behind his eyes—clean and bright and almost as beautiful as Phoebe’s eyes.

She hummed lowly in the back of her throat, and the answering vibrations made him quiver as they traveled through his cock, down his thighs and over his belly before finally reaching his heart.

“Phoebe.” Her name was all he could manage, a guttural groan when what he really wanted to do was praise her. To tell her how beautiful she was. How much he wanted and needed her. How he’d do anything for her.

But she was killing him—softly, slowly and without a shred of mercy.

Her mouth closed over the tip of him, tight and hot and so very delicious, he nearly came off the floor. He thrust before he could stop himself, felt himself sliding deeper as her throat constricted around him, and he cursed.

She was a witch, a powerful practitioner of sexual magic, and he couldn’t resist her. Didn’t want to resist her. But as her mouth moved slowly up and down his cock, burning him alive with each silky glide of her tongue, he knew he was close to ending this before he ever got inside her. He tried to pull her up and away, but she locked her arms around his hips and refused to move. Her protest was unintelligible, but the rhythm of it sent shock waves from one end of his cock to the other. His heart slammed against his chest as he thrust helplessly into her mouth again and again.

Finally, when he knew he couldn’t take another second, he growled, “Enough, Phoebe.”

The witch laughed, then rewarded him with one long, curling lick of her tongue. “Fuck!” His hips jerked, and the first wave of orgasm rushed through him. He forced it back, refused for this time to end any other way than with him inside her. With another groan, he pulled her away with unsteady hands. His cock nearly exploded at her moan of protest.

“Fuck me,” she answered, her hands pulling at his shoulders. “Fuck me now!”

He rose above her and took a moment—just a second or two—to look down at her. And give thanks.

She was moon-kissed, her skin pale and creamy against the dark carpet of the car. Her long, curly, glorious hair was wrapped around her, wrapped around him, as he brought his hands to her slender, breakable body. It was hard to imagine such strength of will existed in something so fragile.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, as he smoothed his mouth over every inch of her—down her breasts to the nipples, over the flat plane of her stomach, down the silky sweetness of her thighs to her calves and back up again. He stuck his tongue in the shallow indention of her navel, teasing and taunting her with what was just beyond her reach, before continuing down her abdomen to the soft red curls at the apex of her thighs.

She moaned, fisting her hands in his hair. “Now,” she breathed, her entire body taught with desire. “Dylan, it’s got to be now.”

“I’m here,” he answered, lifting his face to look her in the eyes. “I’ll always be here.”

“Please,” she whimpered, barely recognizing her own voice. When had she ever begged for anything? The answer came to her: never. But he had a power over her that couldn’t be denied. Outside the window, a sudden sandstorm picked up, the wind whipping in a frenzy.

He reached between them and flicked a finger once, twice, over her clit.

She whimpered, her fingers clutching at his shoulders, her body wildly arching against his. He plunged into her as she came, moving hard and fast against her. Intensifying her orgasm, building toward his own.

Leaning down, he drew her nipple into his mouth. Sucked hard as he continued moving inside her. He was close, so close he thought he’d explode any second. But he wanted to make her come again, wanted to see her face as it went through her, wanted to be inside her when it happened this time.

Her hands were tangled in his hands as her body shuddered over and over again. “Please, please.”

“That’s it, baby. Come for me again. I have to feel you.” His words were strangled as he moved faster and faster, loving the warm, wet feel of her muscles clenching around his cock. He lowered his mouth to her breast, sucked hard as he reached between them and stroked her.

Phoebe whimpered, her body bucking wildly against him as one last orgasm took over. Grabbing her hips, he tilted them until she was fully open to him.

He was going to lose it; he couldn’t hold back any longer. He had to—With a groan, he came. The world went dim and he was lost, totally, to the insane pleasure overloading his senses. He was dimly conscious of Phoebe’s own cries, of her body convulsing again and again, milking him as he emptied himself inside her.

When it was over, he collapsed on top of her—breathing in heavy, ragged gasps. He knew he was too heavy, but at the moment, he couldn’t summon the will to care. Or to move. Her arms wrapped around him so sweetly that for a moment—just a moment—he could pretend that this was real. That she was his and he wouldn’t have to give her back.

In those moments, lying in her arms, listening to the soothing beat of her heart, he found surcease from the demons that chased his every waking hour for more years than he cared to admit.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

T
ime passed. It could have been minutes; it could have been hours. Dylan didn’t know which, nor did he particularly care when Phoebe’s nude body was pressed so sweetly to his.

His arm was burning again—damn Silus and his fucking black magic—but he didn’t try to move it to a more comfortable spot. Phoebe’s head was resting on his bicep, and he would suffer much worse pain than risk disturbing her.

She felt so right, like she belonged in his arms. Part of him wanted to hold on to her so tightly that she could never leave. So tightly that no one could ever ask him to let her go.

His dragon all but purred at the thought, nearly as drunk on sensation as he was. That, more than anything else, had his lower back clenching while a ball of ice started rolling around his stomach.

She isn’t dragon
, he reminded himself fiercely, even as his fingers tangled proprietarily in her hair.
She isn’t my mate
, he told himself, even as his free hand stroked her from her collarbone to her navel.
I can’t keep her
, he warned himself, even as he curled his body possessively around hers.

Maybe she wouldn’t stay with him forever, but she was here now, and for as long as she was with him, she would be his. For the first time in three centuries, his hunt for a mate could wait.

As if she sensed his disquiet, Phoebe raised her head and looked at him with those sapphire eyes that nearly broke his heart. “That was completely unacceptable. You know that, don’t you?”

He grinned. “Sorry. We can try again later, see if I can measure up to your high standards. Although I’ve got to tell you, I’m not sure how much better I can get.”

“Practice makes perfect.”

He shifted a little so his hand rested on her perfectly round ass. “That’s my motto.” He nuzzled her neck.