Tarnished Knight - By Bec McMaster Page 0,32
them free. She caught one last glimpse of the black of his eyes, then he shoved both hands under her bottom and slid lower.
The wet heat of his mouth almost made her scream. Esme jerked, her fingers sinking into the hard muscle of his shoulders. Tracing the steel of his mech limb. She bit her lip as he tongued her, hard and deep, suckling on her clitoris and bringing her to the edge again with ruthless determination.
Esme shattered. It took her hard, leaving her panting and breathless, Rip pulling back to drag in his own shuddering breath. She flinched as his fingertips trailed down her thigh, so sensitive and wrung out that she could scarcely bear it. “Oh God, oh God,” she whispered, again and again.
Rip slid up her body, dragging her into his arms. She felt like crying again, as if he’d utterly destroyed her. And then she was and he tugged her tighter, locking her face against his chest as if he could hide her from the world. “Easy luv,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. He breathed out a rough laugh. “Makin’ a man think he’s done wrong.”
“No.” She curled her fingers in his shirt and glanced up, tears spiking her lashes together. “That was amazing. I just… I just…”
A slow smile curled over his lips. “Aye. Overwhelmed are you?”
Esme nodded, pressing her lips to his throat. She could feel the hardness of his erection between them. This wasn’t finished yet. Sliding her hand between them she cupped him through his pants.
Rip sucked in a sharp breath and rolled her onto her back, coming over her. Resting on his elbows, he toyed with her hair, staring down at her with a look of sharp longing on his face. “I want to,” he admitted hoarsely. “Want you so much.”
“But?” she whispered, hearing the unspoken word.
Rip shut his black eyes with a shudder. “I could barely control meself through that,” he admitted. “I can’t risk it, Esme. Not yet.”
“I trust you,” she said, stroking his face.
He shuddered. “I can’t, Esme. I can’t.”
The ache of need was almost unbearable. Frustration snaked through her. But she could feel the tense line in his shoulders as she stroked her hands up over his shirt-covered back, soothing and whispering under her breath.
“I’ll wait for you, John,” she whispered. “Always.”
***
I’ll wait for you.
Something twisted tight in Rip’s chest, like a hand closing around his heart. Hope? An incredulous disbelief? A cur like you couldn’t be that lucky. But that was his mother’s pimp’s voice he heard. He had to believe he deserved this, that Esme could truly be his. Otherwise he’d have ended up staring at the world through a bottle years ago, with Whitey’s voice echoing in his ears.
Rip curled against her, tucking her bodice up and making sure she was warm. She was so small against him, her breathing settling as she fell asleep. Rip listened to the rain softening on the roof. He felt like the luckiest man alive.
There was only one thing that marred his happiness.
If he couldn’t learn to control himself, then he might never be able to give Esme what she wanted most. She’d said she would wait, but how long? He hadn’t lied when he’d claimed that she’d be happiest as someone’s wife, someone’s mother.
She was almost five-and-thirty. Long past her best child-bearing days. What if he couldn’t give her children before it was too late? What if it took him too long to control himself enough? Blade had admitted that it had been years before he himself could feed directly from the vein without taking too much, though he’d had no one to teach him how to control the craving.
Rip hugged her tighter, pressing a kiss to her hair. He’d speak to her about it. But not now. Christmas was only a few days away and he knew how much she’d been looking forward to it. Once it was over, he would sit her down and offer her the chance to stop this before it was too late for both of them.
Even if it would kill a part of him inside.
CHAPTER NINE
There were three days until Christmas. Then two. And then one. The men spent most of their time hunting through Undertown and keeping guard on the rookery whilst Annie recovered. Esme busied herself with the other women and the children, preparing the Warren for its first Christmas.
There were no signs of it in the heart of the City where the Echelon ruled, but