Night In A Waste Land (Hell Theory #2) - Lauren Gilley Page 0,66
unsteady, her vision swimming she was so turned on. He tore at the fastenings of her pants, shoved them down her hips. They both fumbled at her bootlaces, but finally, blessedly, she was naked, and he was hauling her back into his lap with one hand, while the other went to his own fly.
She helped, their fingers catching; one of his claws left a scratch on the back of her hand.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“It’s fine.” She got the zipper down and reached in to curl her hand around his cock; her palm remembered its particular hot, hard heft. “It’s fine, just–”
“Rose, I–” He touched the inside of her thigh, and then hesitated, and she realized when she felt the prick of his claws again, digging into the soft flesh there. He had his teeth bared, his gaze wild, caught between doubt and wanting.
She shuffled forward, lined them up, and sank down onto his cock in one slow press, no prep, both of them hissing at the stretch.
She held still a moment, adjusting, and tipped forward until their foreheads rested together. She could just see the unfocused gold of his eyes, could read the adoration and wonder in them.
“You’re a marvel,” he breathed out, reverently, “just as ever.”
The praise moved through her like a shockwave. When she could, she started to move – slowly. Lifting up and settling again, just gentle rocking motions of her hips that shifted his cock where it was buried deep inside her.
“Yes,” he breathed, hands shifting up her waist, her ribs; covering her breasts and plucking at her nipples, the light scrape of his claws sending darts of pleasure along her nerves. “Take what you want. What a good girl.”
“Beck.” Her hips hitched, and she lifted a little higher, and settled down a little harder. “God.”
“Not him, I’m afraid. Never now.” His hand settled loosely at the base of her throat, a faint pressure rather than a squeeze. She felt his tail wrapped around her calf, mimicking the movement, but firmer, squeezing the way she squeezed around his cock on every thrust.
It struck her, through her mounting haze, that he was more in-control than she’d ever seen him like that. Even at his most careful – the night she’d first kissed him, the night of their first kill together, in the house, when he’d towed her into the bathroom with him – there’d been a shakiness to him. He’d held onto his self-control with teeth and claws – figurative, back then – and she’d felt the tremors in him, the harshness of his breath. Known that he was only seconds, one bold touch, away from snapping and mounting her like an animal.
But for all his animal adaptations, now, he only looked pleasured, and smug, and not teetering on the brink of anything.
With a fresh flush of heat through her insides, she decided she needed to change that.
He still wore the horrible, cobbled-together shirt the Welsh monks had given him, one of the buttons already slipped-loose at the top from their flight through the city. She tipped forward – far enough to change the angle and leave her panting, and him hissing and grinning – so she could unfasten the rest.
His chest and stomach were the same lean, statue-carved works of art they’d always been, but so much hotter beneath her hands as she stroked him, breastbone to navel, long, sweeping drags of her palms and fingers. The air that swirled down from his bellybutton and furred the base of his cock was black, now, too, and she watched his abs flex as she raked her nails through it, until she could touch the base of his cock, and herself, a little, too, slippery wet now, all of it.
He pressed his head back, tendons stark in his neck, and that was a better reaction. She braced her hands on his chest, and picked up her pace, clenching around him on every upstroke, arching her back and making a show of it.
That earned her a growl, a flash of eyes and teeth. He sat up, suddenly, arms closing tight around her, one hand spread against her ass, and he fused their mouths together and urged her faster.
This.
His other hand gripped her braid and tugged it; then cupped her nape and held her fast to him, as his tongue fucked her mouth, and the pressure of his other hand pressed her down onto his cock again, and again, and again.