The Bloodline War (33 page)

“J-Jaċken,” she stammered out, her thighs starting to quiver. “Jaċken, please….”

“Damn, you
are
wet.”

She stared fixedly at the familiar sixteen-bulb light fixture overhead with an unholy mix of profound embarrassment and gut-punching arousal when he leaned in close to her opening and inhaled a deep breath. “Smell good, too. Hell, woman, if you could bottle and sell this scent, you’d make a mint.” He pushed the tip of his finger experimentally into the entrance to her body.

That’s it
! “Jaċken,” she gulped out. “Honey…sweetheart.” She could hardly breathe her heart was beating so fast. “I need you to come up here to me.”

His head popped up above her hips, a concerned look on his face. “Is something wrong?”

“N-no. I just need you inside me, is all.”
Too fast
? Was she going too fast?

“I’m not done. I want to touch you all over.” He bared his teeth in a grin that showed his fangs. “Taste you.”

She actually gulped. That would kill her right about now. She grabbed hold of his arms and urged him up her body, settling him between her legs. “You can touch me later.”

“But—”

Reaching between their bodies, she grabbed his sex and positioned him at her entrance. She felt him stiffen, heard him make a surprised noise. “Right now”—she gripped his butt—“you’re driving me crazy.” She pulled him in,
hard
.

A guttural, roaring shout erupted out of him as he landed deep inside her, his shaft gliding easily on her slippery wetness. She moaned and arched her spine in pleasure, wanting more. He was a fulsome weight inside her, hard and powerful and throbbing, the size of him stretching her sheath in a promise of fantastic friction once he got going.

If
he got going.

Right now he was frozen above her on quaking arms, his lips slack, his eyes huge.

“It’s all right,” she assured him breathlessly. “It’s
so
good, honey.”

He remained frozen in place. A bead of sweat lazed out of his hairline and down his temple.

“Try moving, okay?” She lifted her hips toward him in encouragement.

He gave a small, experimental thrust. An enormous shudder rocked his body, and he slammed to a halt. “I can’t,” he hissed. “It’ll end.”

“Then we’ll just do it again.” She touched his arm. “And again and again. We have the rest of our lives to make love together.”

He squinched his eyes closed, a vein pulsing visibly in his forehead.

Oh, boy
. This wasn’t working. “Why don’t you lie on your back?” She nudged him over with a hand on his shoulder, making sure they didn’t separate as she settled on top of his lap, her legs straddling his thighs. Her lips slackened as a surge of sensation crested in her. His thick sex was penetrating her more deeply in this position, the tip of him kissing a pleasure spot immersed within the farthest reaches of her core. The raging need to feel every long inch of him burned through her. She slowly lifted up on her knees, sliding off his shaft to the ridge of his head, then sank back down. A small cry tumbled past her lips.

He shouted again, his hands clamping her waist to still her movements.

“No, Jaċken.” She pried his fingers off. “This is where you need to keep your hands.” She raised his arms above his head, the tattoos on his chest undulating, and made him wrap his fingers around the bottom edge of the headboard. “Don’t let go.”

He gave her a dark, panicky look.

“You want me to have my pleasure, too, don’t you?”

Apparently that convinced him. He didn’t interfere this time when she started to rock her hips against him, slowly setting a rhythm. She tried to maintain a moderate tempo, she really did, but he just felt too good inside her, and before she knew what was happening, she had her chin tucked to her chest, her eyes squeezed shut, and her palms planted flat on his chest as she slammed up and down on top of him, so vigorously it was as if she had some perverse need to knock her cervix into her stomach. An endless string of pleasure-noises spilled out of her.

“Oh, yes!” A knot in her womb started to loosen.
God
! It’d been so long since she’d climaxed, she’d almost forgotten how the beginnings of it felt. “Jaċken,” she panted, “I’m going to come, just…just….”

He was clutching the headboard for dear life, his head arched back into the mattress, teeth and fangs gritted, the veins in his neck straining against his skin. “
Toni
.” Her name was a gnashed warning: he couldn’t hold on any longer.

That was fine; she was done. The taut coil inside her snapped loose, sending wave after wave of unbelievable pleasure thundering through—A surprised
whoop
burst out of her as the Fiinţă still coursing through her veins grabbed hold of her orgasm and spun it off the charts. Her entire body convulsed and jerked in an explosion of unbelievable ecstasy, bright sparklers dotting the sides of her vision, her sheath clutching at Jaċken’s penis in an impossibly tight grip.

“Ah!” His body strained so hard off the bed at that, he almost bucked her off. She threw her hands against the headboard to brace herself as a primeval roar of rapture erupted out of him, a noise that went so far beyond human capacity for pleasure, she had no idea where inside him it could’ve possibly come from.

Wet heat throbbed inside of her, her womb flooding with warmth as Jaċken shuddered to the end of his very first orgasm.

“Ho-holy fuck,” he gasped, sprawling in heaving shock on the mattress beneath her.

Fighting for breath, she fell forward against his chest, holding him tight as she listened to the wild beat of his heart and the loud, panting grabs for oxygen his lungs were making. As she calmed, she ran a hand idly over his torso, enjoying the contrasting sensations of smooth flesh over thick bones and ridged muscles, discovering a puckered scar near one of his ribs. When the storm inside him finally passed, she lifted her head and peered at her new husband. “So…?” she inquired. “Was it any good?”

She felt him go still. Then his chest rumbled, the vibrations starting out as a small chuckle that grew into full-throated laughter.

“My God.” She gaped at him. “I didn’t even know you were
capable
of laughter like that, Jaċken.”

He shook his head at her, his eyes bright. “Woman, you seriously need to expand your vocabulary if you think ‘good’ even
begins
to cover what just happened between us.”

She gave him an intimate smile. “Yes. For me, too.”

His lips settled into a tender, close-mouthed smile of his own. Raising his hand to cup her cheek, he threaded his fingers into the side of her hair. “Hey, you,” he said quietly, his gaze filling with such deep affection that her insides scurried about with frantic joy, aimless and bonking into stuff like a wind-up toy. How long had she yearned to see him look at her like that?

“Hey back,” she whispered.

His thumb swept the curve of her cheek in a gentle caress. “Have I told you how much I love you, Dr. Toni Parthen?”

Chapter Thirty-five

Somewhere along the way, the mattress beneath Jaċken had turned into a pile of soft feathers. He was sunk deeply into it,
engulfed
in the bed, it seemed, his muscles gelatinous, his bones just…washed away under the effects of satiated exhaustion. He’d never felt more relaxed in his life, never so content. His mind was a desert oasis. No memories of Oţărât were banging on the door to his brain, no grumblings about the crap circumstances of his existence were yapping in his ears. Those were just blurry images at the back of the stadium. Hard to believe just a few short hours ago he’d been moping over scrambled eggs about the endless misery of his life.

He heard Toni puttering around in the bathroom, the soft padding of her footsteps and water running. He smiled and stretched languorously, the sinews in his right shoulder popping.
Maybe there’s a God, after all
.

There sure as shit was a Heaven, that was for damned certain, and it lay right between—to be unavoidably crass about it—the legs of a certain strawberry-blonde doctor he was completely nuts about.
Fan-fucking-tastic
. That’s what sex was. How else to describe the indescribable? He’d been utterly unprepared for the whole show. Not that an assload of imaginings hadn’t gone into picturing what making love to Toni would be like, but the reality of having her mount up his cock and giddy-up him to within an inch of his life still had him reeling. He broke into a broader grin. Ten out of ten points for taking a guy’s virginity in a way that was totally cool, though.

“Jaċken,” Toni sang out from the bathroom, “could you come in here for a sec?”

What, he had to
move
? Stupid question. Damn right he did. Because when hot blonde wifey called, then recently laid male—whose awakened cock was really fucking excited to lend new meaning to the term eager beaver—came running. Or maybe he should say
frigging
, seeing as the events of the last few hours had turned him into a husband. He should probably try to tone down the potty mouth.

He sauntered into the bathroom on deliciously weak knees. “Yes, dear?” he drawled.

Toni was standing near the tub, her body wrapped in a plush white towel and her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. He was brought up short by the sight of her exposed neck.
Shit
. The skin where he’d bitten her had already purpled into a nasty bruise, the twin puncture marks an angry red. Yeah, he knew the first bite always went rough for a newbie, but it still rankled that he’d hurt her.

“I thought we could take a bath together,” she said.

Behind her, both faucets were jetting water into a tub large enough for four men. It was a tub fit for royalty—which worked out really well for
her
now, didn’t it?—the basin enclosed by a wide, semi-circular ledge of white tiles, about every fifth one painted with a blue fleur-de-lis. The ledge ascended in steps to a pedestal at the back where a vase of silk flowers about the size of a small child sat. Short mirrors, bordered in gold curlicue frames, and already fogging up from the rising steam, surrounded all sides of the tub.

“I wash you,” she went on, “you wash me.” She slanted a smile at him. “I did say you could touch me later, after all.”

He scratched the back of his head. “Did you? Ah. That must’ve been around the time you were taking my dick in your eager little fist and ramming it inside you.” He reached for a back tooth with his tongue. “I might’ve been a bit distracted.”

She planted her hands solidly on her hips, huffing at him. “Okay, so maybe I went a little too fast, but I was extremely horny, buster. Are you really going to stand there and complain about that?”

“Nope. I actually think there’re probably some awesome perks to having a tartlet for a wife.”

“A—?” Her lips twitched before she could stop them. “Well, this bath isn’t about sex, bub. All right? It’s about touching
only
. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Sure. Easy as pie, Doc. I don’t want to have sex with you at all.”

“Excellent.”

“You pretty much wrung me dry on that last one.”

“Well, hop in, then.” She dropped her towel to the bathroom floor and gave him a saucy look.

Oh, damn me
…. His gut went buttery as he raked his gaze over her body: her high firm breasts with those rosy nipples that poked out at him as impudently as the woman herself, the sweet nip of her slender waist flaring into softly rounded hips, the apex of her thighs where gold—in every sense of the word—nested. It whacked the air right out of him. He had to flex his toes into the tiles to keep from flying at her and frantically scrambling his hands all over her goodies like she was an exploded piñata.

Her eyes sparkling sassily, she stepped into the tub and sank down into the water with a sinuous movement that kicked the flow of his blood into high gear. He inhaled a deep, groaning breath. Christ, that felt so good now. Ever since he’d fed on her, it was as if every vein in his body had become a super highway conduit for blood, pushing feeling everywhere it needed to go. Especially right into his—

“You will be careful with that thing, won’t you?” She cast his hard member a sideways glance as she cranked off the faucets.

Yeah, yeah, so he was a big fat liar. And here was Lesson One of all the things he needed to learn about the male-female relationship; the woman would always hold the upper hand, no bones about it. Right, sue him for not caring.

“I’ll try not to knock anything over,” he remarked dryly as he started for the tub.

Her smiling gaze remained on that part of him sticking straight out from his body and bouncing along like a divining rod seeking out damp, warm places that were the Mount Everest of happy places to be.

He joined her in the tub, and she straddled him again, this time high up on her knees, and began to lather shampoo into his wet hair. He groaned as her massaging fingers did exactly what she’d set out to do: open up a whole new world of touch for him to just about die over. His eyelids kept trying to sink closed, but he forced them to stay open. There was just too much good stuff to look at right in front of him.

“Your body rocks,” he murmured, watching foamy soap suds slip off the bud of her nipple.

She smiled. “Duck under to rinse.”

He did as instructed, breaking back through the surface to find her with a bar of soap in her hands. She lathered up her palms, then smoothed them over his shoulders, up his neck, and down his chest. Ecstasy abated slightly here, as the
mode
in which his tattoos had been applied had left his chest semi-nerveless. Then pleasure rocketed right back up as her hands dipped below the water to wash his—

His head slumped back on his neck, his eyes spinning up into his skull as she took hold of his arousal and stroked him from tip to base, then back up. His fangs, already half-extended, stretched into his mouth on a near-painful surge. Her hand moved down again, and then he was panting short, tight breaths through his teeth because her hand slid all the way down to his balls. She cupped them and tested their weight, her fingernails lightly scoring the underside of his sac. He moaned low. Here again, was something really fuc…frigging new. Previously not much more than a pair of lead weights hanging between his thighs, his balls were now doing a real number on him, tingling and aching and…being very insistent about what needed to go down next.