Poison Kissed (25 page)

He stole another kiss. “I don’t even care what you told him.”

My mind raced. Surely he teased me. “What?”

He broke my zip open and my breasts popped out, free at last. His burning gaze raked over me, hungry, and a dangerous shiver swept my spine. He nudged my chin up, kissed my throat, my shoulders, my chest, his strange minty lips trailing ribbons of hot sensation behind them. He savored my scent with a throaty sigh. My nipples were already tight, and under the scorching heat of his breath, they sprang so hard, I gasped. His wet hair dragged hot sparkles from my skin as he nuzzled me, inhaled me, tested the texture of my skin on his. “Diamond, I mean. I want to care. I want to so bad. But . . . Fuck, you’re amazing.”

He wrapped his tongue around my nipple, sucking it into his hot minty mouth. Flame blossomed along my nerves, and it felt so good, I shuddered and gripped his hair and pulled him closer. “But what?”

“But I want this more.” He teased me, licked me, bit me gently with burning serpent teeth, and desire melted deep into my belly. He knew just how much I could take, exactly how much sting felt good, precisely where pain tipped over the edge into pleasure. Not fair.

Something hot and sticky tingled over my breast, warmth sinking deep. He hadn’t broken my skin. The venom wouldn’t hurt me. But the danger spiked excitement deep into my bones. He sucked me, teasing with his tongue, and I arched, straining for more, my nerves sparking alive.

He swept me up like I was weightless and carried me from the shower to sit me on the vanity. He slid my sodden boots off one by one and dropped them with a wet squelch. Then his fingers crept to my buttons, and he started undoing them, the swollen leather popping apart.

I shivered under his gaze as he revealed more and more. He dropped to his knees and trailed mintburning kisses down my ribs. “I can’t think about anything but you. I can’t breathe when you’re close to me. Nothing makes sense anymore, and I don’t know what the fuck I want. Except this.”

He moved lower, dark and sultry with intent, and his hot mouth injected liquid fire under my skin. He nibbled my hipbone, tasted the swelling curve at the junction of my thighs, and sweet tingles swept my skin there. God, I loved it when he bit me. Maybe I was sick. I didn’t care.

He peeled my wet pants over my butt and off onto the floor. My skin scorched under his hungry gaze. He’d already seen me naked. But this time it was different. I felt like a teenager, first time undressed in front of a man. Nervous, unsure, hopelessly naïve. Afraid he’d hurt me. Terrified he wouldn’t.

I wore little black satiny shorts for underwear, and he scraped them away, too. The faint blue hair between my legs sparkled with moisture, and my inner muscles clenched tight, longing for his touch. He nuzzled me with a soft sigh, inhaling the wet scent of my arousal, and when he traced gentle fingertips up my thigh, hot pleasure slipped deep inside me in anticipation. “I know you hate me. I know I should kill you for your lies. But I can’t help it. I want you close, Mina. I want you to be all mine. Can you understand that? What fucking sense does that make?”

It made so much sense, I wanted to scream, beg him to take me.

He didn’t ask, or hesitate. He just slid his tongue right between my soft, wet folds.

Oh dear god. Hot, deft, delicious, so deadly accurate, I groaned, a luscious menthol burn that made me shiver and melt all over. Sensation seared along my nerves, frightening. Just the feel of his strange, succulent tongue on my flesh dragged me dangerously close to the edge. When he found my clit and lovingly tasted it with a soft groan of desire, delight bolted deep into my belly and quivered me weak. The strong forks of his tongue squeezed me, wrapping around my most sensitive place and stroking until it swelled tight and hard and the sensation melted me to mush.

Pleasure wrapped me tight, hot and sweet and so wonderfully real. My fingers clenched on the sharp marble edge, and the tiny scrap of my reason that wasn’t a quivering mess of delight glowed hot with golden wonder. He was actually going down on me.

Him. On me.

I’d dreamed this a hundred times, with other guys or on my own when I touched myself, dull and frustrating. This was better than any of them. And not just because he was talented, but also because I actually felt that he wanted to.

He licked me, stroked me, swallowed my juices as if he liked how I tasted, and hot spasms rippled my limbs. God, he felt good. Better than good. He felt like he cared whether I liked it or not, and tears pressed unwanted behind my eyelids.

Tension crippled me, months of denial and humiliation and tears all building up in one massive, beautiful crescendo. My clit flowered unbearably tight, my pleasure centering too fast, and I banged my head back against the mirror, trying not to embarrass myself. “You feel too good. Stop it.”

But he’d trapped me, with his will as much as with his body. He eased my thighs farther apart and licked me slowly, deliberately, from my center up to the very tip of my sex, and by the time he reached that ultrasensitive bud and teased it, I was nearly sobbing.
Don’t beg, Mina. Don’t say it. He’ll only make you wait.
“Ohmygod. Harder. More. Please . . . ahh!”

He sucked me deep into his mintscorched mouth, and I lost it.

Heavenly flashburn ignited in my sex, scorched up to my breasts and sizzled out my fingertips. My nipples stung. My muscles ached and shook with pleasure that just wouldn’t let me go. He wouldn’t let me go, sucking that hard little bit of flesh between his lips over and over until I panted and groaned, my vision blurring with delight, and deep in my broken ears, I heard the distant chime of my long-lost melody.

Hot tears swelled my eyelids. He knew exactly how to please me. He always had. Only now he was giving it, without demanding anything in return. Surely, it didn’t get any better than this.

And then, his tongue shifted. Long, sinuous muscle, sliding deep between my legs, the twin forks caressing me in the most intimate of places. Before I’d even finished coming, he thrust his tongue deep inside me, curling around my sensitive shapes, stroking me so hot and delicious that my pleasure exploded again. It hit me from nowhere out of the dark, all hot and rippling and perfect, and I cried out, helpless to stop him manipulating my body.

I struggled to breathe as my pleasure spent itself. I felt faint, dizzy, all the blood dragged away from my head to chase his intoxicating touch. He withdrew and licked me softly, not for pleasure but for comfort, so warm and tender and passionate, I wanted to curl up and let him wrap his arms around me and soothe me to sleep.

Distant protest sparked along my nerves. This wasn’t right. I wasn’t supposed to feel like this. What we’d done wasn’t sex, right? I could still get away, pretend it hadn’t happened, rescue my heart before he pushed me away again.

But he slid up my body, so warm, covering me in burning neon kisses, tasting every curve, every muscle, igniting another slow burn deep in my belly, and by the time his hot green gaze swept mine again, I was gasping, my nerves on fire. He tangled his hands in my wet hair and dragged my lips to his for the most desperate kiss yet, raw and barely restrained like he couldn’t get enough of me.

I closed my eyes. His lips bruised mine, mint igniting my mouth. I slid my arms around his neck and pulled him in. I could feel the rapid beating of his heart, the hard press of his cock tempting between my legs. Losing all that blood hadn’t hurt him any. If I wrapped my leg around his hips, I could take him right here.

Fresh desire pulsed between my legs, the bench already slick with my lust and getting slicker. Tension rippled deep, making me moan. I wanted to feel him inside me, deep and hard and close, just once before we realized this was a bad idea and slunk away into the dark.

Temptation wilted my wits. Just a fuck, right? It’d feel so good. So easy to pretend he cared. I might hate myself afterwards, but I’d get over it. I always did.

I wrapped my thigh around his hip, pulling him closer, and his hardness slid in my wet folds, making me quiver and ache. Oh, god, I could feel the tip of him pressing against me. Desire slashed my reason bloody, and like a whore, I thrust forward, desperate, begging him to bury himself deep.

“Mina, don’t.” He pulled back, breathing hard.

“Please,” I whispered. “I want you.”
Use me, break me, fuck me so it hurts. Just sex. Just hot dirty release.

And then his besotted green gaze trapped mine, and the bottom dropped out of my world.

Reality slammed into my guts, warm and fatal. This was not
just
anything. I wasn’t pretending he cared. I was pretending I didn’t.

He wasn’t just some crush or lingering infatuation. He was an addiction, raw and relentless, worse than any sparkleburn. Being without him didn’t just hurt. It emptied my soul.

Resignation burned my throat like a dirty sparkle hit. I understood addiction. Sometimes your best intentions just aren’t enough, and no matter how hard you try, there you are again, picking scabs off your arms and spewing on your own ankles.

Sometimes, fighting the need is pointless.

You just have to indulge, and hope like hell it doesn’t kill you.

Something hard and mirrorbright in my heart cracked apart, and I grabbed his hand, hopped off the bench, and led him to the bedroom.

My feet left sodden dents in the thick carpet. Light spilled in from the bathroom and the corridor, and bronze velvet curtains lay open over the window, exposing us to the night. I didn’t care. I pushed him backwards onto the bed, beneath a silken canopy dappled with silver thread shimmering like starlight.

His dripping hair stained the creamy coverlet pink, shadows outlining his lean shapes in black. My pulse quickened. God, he was beautiful, his body all wet and slick and packed with muscle and bone, serpentflesh a dark promise beneath his skin.

I shrugged my heavy wet leather top off my shoulders and climbed onto him, planting my hands beside his head. My hair fell over him, damp and blue, his luminous sweat lighting it from beneath like a weird green halo. His body felt warm and delicious between my shaking thighs. I was hungry, desperate, starving for him.

I ducked and kissed him, and his hands sliding over my waist, my hips, made me shiver and groan. Anticipation rippled my muscles deep inside. I wanted to take that delicious cock and slide it into me, feel him inside me at last, move with him and come with him and never let him go.

But not yet.

He started to speak, but I pressed my finger to his lips. “Nuh-uh. Don’t say a fucking word.” I couldn’t resist a smug smile as I crept lower. He’d teased me for too long. I’d make him suffer for this, oh yes. When I was through, I wouldn’t be the one begging.

I traced my lips along his collarbone and inhaled, and his minty flavor made me drunk, the texture so smooth on my tongue, his curving muscles so perfect. My mouth watered for him. I curled my tongue over his nipple, and underneath, something lithe and muscular shifted.

My heart skipped.

He slid tense hands into my hair, gripping tight. “Mina, you really shouldn’t—”

“Shut up.” I twisted my head to free myself, and rubbed my cheek on his hard belly, luxuriating in the velvety steel of his body. Just as I’d imagined. Nothing wasted. All sinew, toughened muscle, tension. I tasted his hipbone, tested it with my teeth, licked my way across his belly. He shivered, and delicious harmonics tingled my tongue. My sex ached. Oh, for my music, to hear every serpentine shudder. The strange hot sweetness of his shimmering sweat intoxicated me. I moved lower, hungry, and at last claimed his hard length in my mouth.

Mmm. Like the rest of him, fresh, burning, strange. His taste sparkled hot on my lips and shivered urgent warmth through my belly. His breath caught as I stroked him with my tongue, and at that tortured sound my body ached and hungered like fever. God, I needed him. I needed him to want me like I wanted him.

I tilted my head and slid him deeper, sucking, and he sighed and shuddered at my touch, his fingers curling in the sheet. But still he tried to pull away from me. “Mina, don’t.”

I grinned, and teased him with my tongue. “Why? Got somewhere to be?”

He snaked up and pulled me off him, grabbing my wrists. I fought, excitement aching deep, but he pinned me effortlessly to the soft bed, his body lithe and easy on mine, and dear god, his strong grip wrapping my wrists spurted sweet flame into my blood. It made me all slick and hot and shivery inside, and my flesh he’d just so elegantly teased to orgasm yearned for him all over again. My clit ached, and deep inside me, my pulse throbbed hot with longing.

I struggled, but he just held me tighter, catching my bottom lip between his teeth with a wicked smile and a tempted groan.

A frustrated croon of desire bubbled in my ruined throat. Christ, I hated how he always had to win. But I loved it, too.

He closed his eyes, inhaled the scent of my hair, let his mouth drift down to my throat, up over my chin to my lips. “No,” he whispered, “I just don’t want to miss this,” and I swear my knees went weak.

I shivered in his embrace. So close, I could taste his lips. His damp hair glowed neon green, curling at the ends, lending him a softer edge that tore fresh wounds in my heart.

His glorious scent disarmed me, his closeness a rich temptation I couldn’t fight. He could do whatever he wanted with me. I’d always known it, ever since that very first day in the spriggan’s filthy den. Anything that had passed between us since then couldn’t change that.

I quivered and melted, and with my resistance dissolving in unsteady emotion, I surrendered and let him make love to me.

He nuzzled my chin up to taste my throat, his fingers still tight around my wrists, not painful but safe, protective, reassuring. His minty lips burned me, savored me, lingered on the soft place where my pulse beat strong and rapid against his tongue. My desire responded, soaking me like that hot steaming shower only sweeter, darker, more desperate. I wrapped one leg around his hip, urging him closer, sweat and my wetness sliding on our skin. My hair spilled on my shoulders, and he brushed it aside with his mouth to kiss my collarbone, the hollow of my throat, the curve between my breasts. Hot sensation flooded me, fresh, perfect, like the ripple of music on my skin.