Blood Wicked (30 page)

She had to grasp his shoulders or she would have melted to the floor. She blotted everything else out. Fear. Guilt. The future. Instead she shut her eyes tight and
felt
.

His tongue was firm at the tip and could flick her most sensitive places with teasing punishment. When he applied the flat of it in a long sweep over her clit, it rasped in a way that made her very soul quiver. His breath was a swift breeze of heat. He was thawing her. She knew it. He was making her so hot, he was melting the cold fear wrapped around her heart.

She clutched his shoulders and ground against him … and surrendered to the pleasure.

Next thing she knew, his mouth was on hers, tasting salty and earthy. He broke the kiss, rested his forehead against hers. Tears lay in her eyelashes. Tears … tears that slid out and would not stop.

He scooped her into his arms. “I could make love to you,” he rasped.

Pure terror sliced icily into her heart and stopped the tears. “No, you can’t. You cannot forget about the curse.”

“I could cut my own heart afterward; destroy my body before I became a demon.”

“Heath, you can’t.” She would not allow it. She would not let him make love to her.

“It would be worth it. For one more time with you.”

Now she was scared.

He carried her to the bed, and her heartbeat became a roar in her ears. But he shook his head. “Don’t worry, love. I won’t do anything stupid. Just touch me, Vivi. I need your touch.”

He needed her touch, when she was bringing him nothing but destruction.

“I need it to live, Flower. It’s as simple as that. My existence isn’t worth anything if I don’t have your touch. That’s how I feel.” He got off the bed and took off his clothes. He never stopped looking at her as he did.

He was so beautiful. She’d never savored a man’s body as she savored his. But Nikolai had said each act of pleasure between them was making Heath weaker.

“My heart needs your touch, Vivi,” he said. “You talked about destroying yourself to protect the world. That’s what I should do. And I would, except—”

Dear heaven, was he going to say except for her?

“Except I need to stop Nikolai. I’m sorry—I know he is your father—but I have to stop him. I can’t let him unleash either Raine or me on the world.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. He’s a monster. I know that. I know what you have to do.”

“Your touch,” he said softly, “gives me hope. I know that’s hopeless—” He gave a wry smile. “But for a little while when I’m pleasuring you, I can forget the future. So please, love. Give me what I crave so much.”

Her hand trembled a bit. Her fingers brushed the bare skin of his forearm. She stroked his arm, tracing the lines of his veins. He had such beautiful arms. She got on her knees. Put her mouth to his right bicep, kissed along the hard bulge, and watched him shudder.

“What are you proposing?” she whispered. “Are you going to take me to Dimitri’s orgy and watch me again?”

“I don’t know.” Deep, harsh lines framed his mouth.

She swept her fingers up over the crest of his shoulder, then
slid her hands down his chest. Daringly, she tweaked his nipple. She had to swallow the bite of tears. She wished they were both normal. Mortal. She wished she was pinching his nipple for erotic play before he would lay her down and make love to her….

She ran her hands over the ridges of his abdomen. Then, with two hands, she clasped his cock.

But he eased her hands away, his prick moving with a swift upward jolt as she released him. “I know of a way we can have a night of pleasure ourselves. Just the two of us.”

“You aren’t planning to make love to me and then … drive a stake in your heart, are you? I am not going to allow it.”

“No, my beautiful one. We’re going to share pleasure, but my cock won’t touch you.”

Vivienne had pulled on a scarlet robe, but Heath prowled naked along the corridor. With his long stride, his relaxed posture, he moved as comfortably as if he wore evening dress. Vivienne knew she would never feel as natural about sexual things, about being naked, as he did.

He reached a door, jiggled the doorknob. Then he whispered some words in a soft voice, and the lock mysteriously clicked and the door swung open.

She blinked. “Was that magic?” She thought of Guidon’s door. “Or a trick?”

A sly grin curved his mouth. “Both. I believe this was Guidon’s invention for Dimitri, created a century ago. The metal inside responds to the resonance of a voice.”

Heath winked, looking rather like a naughty boy. A naked, muscular, beautiful naughty boy. He crooked his finger. “We have to sneak in. Dimitri won’t be pleased if he catches us. He saves this room for his female conquests.”

Now she was terribly intrigued. She glanced up and down the corridor, but really, for all she knew Dimitri could sense
them from the other side of the enormous mansion. Heath pulled her inside and closed the door behind them. The lock clicked again. A golden glow filled the room from a small fire in the grate. Light slanted along the polished doors of six closed wardrobes. It fell upon two chaises of Grecian design, two wing chairs, and a low table that stood in front of the fireplace.

She had expected the room to be lit only by bluish-white moonlight. Instead, several lamps added to the golden glow. Heath flashed another smile that made her legs shake, her quim throb. “I think our host intends to use the room later.” He crossed the room toward one of the large wardrobes.

“What is in those?”

“Dimitri’s collection of carnal toys.” His eyes glinted teasingly.

“You are joking,” she said.

“I’m not. Honestly.”

“He collects them?” The half-dozen wardrobes were enormous. How many whips and riding crops and shackles could any man need? Giggles hit her then. “Are they … used toys?”

“I assume so. Though washed, or repaired, and then given a place of pride in his collection room.”

“Repaired. Heavens, how does one break a sex toy?”

His grin sparkled with wickedness. “Vigorous thrusting?”

“I suppose.” She giggled as she tried to imagine how. “Would it be possible to break one in half? Perhaps by trying to balance on it before it was completely inside?”

“Balance on it? What naughty things have you done before, Flower?”

She couldn’t answer. She had used a dildo for her own pleasure. She would put it inside and lie on her bed, using the mattress to thrust against.

Heath’s low laugh seemed to flood through every nerve. Deliciously. She had never done this. Laughed so openly and freely with a man.

Heath opened the set of doors in front of him. He reached up onto a shelf, his buttocks tightening as he did, turning his derriere into two hard, rounded globes. She swallowed hard.

He turned, holding the most enormous carved … thing. Long, ivory-white, and gleaming. He held it up. “A phallic toy, carved from an elephant’s tusk.”

“But it must be two feet long! Surely no one would ever want that inside them.”

“I know for a fact this one was used. Dimitri had a woman masturbate with it—on his dining room table while his guests ate dessert.”

She clapped her hand to her mouth. “This time you
are
joking. You must be.”

“No. The woman in question enjoyed herself.”

“Well,
I
am not going to try that.
You
can.” Then she flushed. For she knew how men used such toys on themselves. Many men liked to have their anuses pleasured.

Heath leaned against the bedpost, legs crossed at the ankles, his erection straining in front of him. “Would you like to see that?”

“I should call your bluff, Heath, and command you to do it. What if I were to tell you I won’t have an orgasm with you tonight unless I see you take all of that massive thing inside your arse—?”

Suddenly he was in front of her, his palms clamped hard on her derriere. He pulled her against him and slanted his mouth over hers.

It was a kiss to launch a wildfire, a fire hot enough to scorch half of England. He yanked open the belt of her robe and the sides parted. The smooth, rounded tip of the ivory phallus he held brushed her tummy. So did the taut, shiny head of his rigid cock. The ivory cock stroked over her, moving lower. His penis stayed put, dabbing sticky fluid against her belly.

Heath nudged the fake cock between her thighs. Rubbed it
back and forth until she quivered, and grew wet and creamy inside.

“Just the tip,” he whispered against her lips. “Just the tip to tease you. Watch.”

She looked down. And gasped at the sight of his large hand wrapped around the gleaming ivory shaft. She saw it disappear between her legs, between the scarlet silk.

“I wish this was my cock doing this to you.”

Heavens, Heath’s voice was strained. She looked up at his face. His jaw was tense, and deep lines bracketed his mouth. His lids had turned sleepy with lust, and his thick lashes hid his eyes.

He looked daringly experienced, yet astonishingly innocent and vulnerable.

She wanted him. She didn’t care about unleashing demons. Or destroying the world. She burned too much.

“It feels like your cock. As big and long as you are,” she whispered. He had rested his head on her shoulder as he slid the shaft in and out from between her thighs. Smooth ivory stroked between her nether lips like a bow coaxing music from a violin.

He brushed the dildo along her throbbing clitoris with each pass. Her toes curled; her legs were swiftly turning to jelly.

“Look down, my love. See how wet you’ve made it. I wish, love, I could dip myself in you and get drenched.”

The ivory was glistening with her juices. She reached down and touched her quim, moistening her fingers. She touched her damp fingers to his balls. “I want to make you wet with me. This way. With my fingers.”

She heard his breath catch. And she looked at his face. His thick lashes were lowered over his shimmering eyes. He looked like she felt: so caught up in desire he could barely open his eyes.

“All right, Vivi, my love. Stroke yourself. Then make me wet.”

She trembled as she delved her fingers around the dildo he still held there. Goodness, her juices were bubbling out. She was so astonishingly wet. And in an instant, her fingers were slick and sticky. She stroked them along the hot, remarkable length of his prick, loving the velvety feel of him, the rigidity beneath.

“God, yes,” he growled. He watched every brush of her fingers. He’d forgotten his duty to ply her with the enormous gewgaw between her legs. But she didn’t care. She wanted to please him for a while. Then she could give him a tap and remind him to pleasure her….

His fingers brushed hers out of the way. The dildo fell to the wood floor with a clatter.

He gripped his cock in his tight fist. The veins strained on the back of his hand, on his forearm, and on his shaft. “I can’t resist you anymore,” he growled. “I want you now.”

“O
h no. No. No.” Vivienne danced back from Heath, almost stepping upon the dropped dildo. Would he unleash his demon if he just put his cock inside her?

She had no idea how much he had to do. Just one thrust? Did he have to climax? In the demon world, what was making love considered to be? The attempt or the conclusion?

She couldn’t risk anything. If Heath even thought he had unleashed the curse and was going to become a dangerous demon, he would stake himself. She knew him well enough now to know he’d do it without hesitation.

Vivienne placed her hands over her quim, ready to fight him. But he turned, slowly stroking the remarkable length of his thick cock, and he strode to the wardrobe. When he returned, he held two more ivory toys, one in each hand.

She took several quick breaths of relief as she tried to take her next thought in stride. “One for me, one for you?”

He shook his head. “Both for you.”

“How?” But she could guess his answer before he said it.

“Trust me,” he said. “Now go over to the chaise. Position yourself on all fours upon it. Wait for me.”

Heath spoke in a dark, hot, commanding tone. She should have bristled; she’d never let a man order her about. That was the delight of becoming London’s most desired courtesan: it allowed her to make rules, set limits, take charge. But this time …

This time she wanted to surrender control.

She wanted to surrender everything to Heath. She was ready to claim what she’d always wanted.

A man with whom to share pleasure. A man all her own. A man who did not use gifts to buy her, contracts to control her, arrogance to subdue her.

Heath treated her as his partner. His equal. Not as a toy to be owned, played with, and discarded.

Her palms and knees sunk into the soft padding of the chaise. In this position, her bottom stuck up in the air, high, rounded, and naughtily exposed. Her full breasts hung down and bounced as she moved.

Footsteps sounded, whispering over the Aubusson carpet. “This will be warm.” Heath’s voice came from behind her. Something hot and wet splashed on her tailbone. At once the fluid ran down between the cheeks of her bottom.

His fingers delved in there, too, from below, and caught the droplets of fluid. Slowly, he massaged the warmth into her snug, closed anus. The puckered, sensitive entrance remembered his touch; it seemed to blossom open for him.

Gently, one of his fingers slid inside her, moistening her with the warm fluid, making her slippery. Readying her—that was what he was doing. Panting, waiting on a knife’s edge of arousal, she rocked back against his finger. He slowly thrust it in and out. Then, when his finger was deep inside her and she was gasping against the tingling, lovely sensations, he swirled his finger inside her in a sweep that made her cunny clench.

“If this hurts, tell me. I’ll stop.”

She braced herself, but he laid his hand on her back. “Relax. Try to enjoy.”

She wished she could see. But perhaps it was best if she couldn’t. At least the monstrous two-foot-long dildo still lay on the floor.
That
she could not take inside her bum.

Something stroked along her cheeks, then nudged its way between. A smooth tip pressed to her slick, well-greased anus. And the long, slender object pushed inside.