Page 88 of Dark Whisper

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Afanasiv’s blue-green eyes met hers, and he tossed the towel to Dimitri before holding out his hand to his woman. The other Carpathians instantly threw up an illusion of the couple walking away to get into a vehicle. They took to the sky together, two night birds winging their way back to the palace.

We’re going to have to live around your brothers.He made it a statement.

I suppose I will have to make it worth your while.Vasilisa felt daring teasing him. She poured a sultry note into his mind. She didn’t wantto have any limits on their relationship. She knew she was more than ready for a complete commitment and wanted him to know she was.

He stroked a caress along the walls of her mind. He made her feel wanted and beautiful. He made her feel like a woman and warrior, giving her respect in both aspects of her life. The palace loomed in front of them, a large, sprawling work of art, sometimes hidden by the snow and foggy air until one was right up on it. The two owls perched on the outside balcony of her private apartment and then, once more taking their own forms, stepped off the wide railing to enter her sitting room.

She took his hand and led him down the hall to her private bath, with the large sunken tub she always enjoyed so much after battles. Aware of the time passing and Siv’s inability to stay up when the sun rose, she pulled all the privacy screens to black out any sun that might sneak past the snow that had begun to come down in earnest. They didn’t have a tremendous amount of time before they would go to ground together and sleep beneath her bedroom in the chamber she had there. Vasilisa meant to utilize every moment they had.

She waved her hand at the tub to fill it with hot, steamy water and turned to her lifemate. “Let me.” She opened his shirt, one old-fashioned square button at a time. With each button she slipped open, her heart accelerated just a little more. She felt his eyes on her face, but she didn’t look up at him. Not yet. She knew if she did, she’d want to go too fast. Every nerve ending already reacted to his body heat. To his nearness. She wanted to be the one in charge for just a little while, just enough to show him she was no longer afraid, and she wanted every experience he could give her. She wanted to bring him every pleasure.

It was difficult when she opened his shirt to look at the heavy muscles of his chest and the many raw lacerations, gouges and terrible wounds Afanasiv had. “Siv,” she whispered his name and leaned forward to use her tongue to help heal the wounds. As a Carpathian, he was always clean after a battle, making certain no vampire had injected parasites into his blood. He’d taken the time before he went into theborehole to seal the wounds. She kissed every laceration and tear in his chest, neck and throat, using the healing saliva in her tongue in an effort to speed up the recovery process.

Her hands dropped to the waistband of his trousers as she kissed her way down his chest to his abdomen. Opening the material, she pushed it off his hips, down his thighs, and then, with a wave of her hand, she rid him of his clothing and shoes. Her hands found his rock-hard cock and began to stroke and caress. Only then did she look up at him, her gaze meeting his.

Afanasiv looked back at her with stark, raw hunger. With such a mixture of love and lust, her entire body followed the meltdown of her heart. He framed her face with both hands, holding her head still as he bent his head toward hers. His long hair brushed over her skin, feeling like a silken caress. She hadn’t realized her clothing was gone. He had done that at some point when she was obsessed with healing his wounds.

Electricity crackled, seemed to sizzle and create little pinpoints of lightning arcing between them. His mouth took hers. So hot—his tongue like a flame, dueling with hers, stroking hunger and need into her. He held her gently, yet his mouth wasn’t gentle. His kisses were rough, almost savage, devouring hungrily, possessively.

She gave herself up to his kisses, the storm of need in her rising to a fever pitch. She was only half aware of him using one hand to stop the flow of water into the bathtub. His mouth welded to hers, he lifted her into his arms and carried her straight to the bedroom. She barely felt it when he laid her on the bed because she was kissing him hungrily. Her breasts ached, felt swollen and achy. Her sex wept with need of him, fire exploding in her belly. Hot blood pounded through her clit as his mouth left hers to travel over her chin to her throat.

“Siv,” she whispered his name, and it came out an ache.

“I want to taste your skin and then devour you,sívamet.” He murmured his needs against the swell of her breasts.

His mouth, hot and hungry, closed over her aching left breast. Her breath exploded from her lungs, and a low moan of desire escaped. She couldn’t possibly contain the firestorm blossoming in her belly and exploding outward, sending flames scattering in every direction. She cradled his head to her, the sweep of his hair on her sensitive skin adding to the coiling tension building so fast.

The hot cavern of his mouth sent shudders of pleasure through her body. His tongue teased and flicked her nipple while his fingers tugged at her right one. Sensations rushed through her, the flames burning a pathway from her breasts to her sex, igniting another wave of frantic need.

She craved the heat of his mouth and the slow burn his hands created in counterpoint to the wildfire burning in her sex. His mouth was rough but his hands, as they moved over her body, gentle. So intimate. The pads of his fingers explored her the way a blind man might commit every inch of her to memory.

Every strong pull of his mouth was answered by a featherlight touch of his fingers as he stroked caresses over her ribs and belly. He found her hip bones and the indentations around them. His mouth began to follow the path his hands had taken, a slow gentle exploration as if he were memorizing every inch of her—or worshiping her.

Afanasiv parted her thighs as he kissed his way from one hip to the other. He kissed his way lower still, his tongue tasting, his teeth nipping very gently. She moaned, her head thrashing, her dark hair spilling around her flushed face. Just for one moment, before he lowered his head to feast, he stopped to take in the sight of her. The intensity of his stare shook her. That look. Those eyes. There was possession in his wild, almost feral gaze. There was a mixture of lust and love that melted her insides.

Then he bent his head again. That first leisurely swipe of his tongue didn’t prepare her for his feasting. His devouring. For the waves of pleasure crashing through her so fast. She couldn’t stop sobbing hisname, her hips as wild as his mouth. She fisted his hair, her only anchor as he ruthlessly drove her up higher and higher.

There was no thinking, no way to do anything but feel, as her body shuddered from one powerful orgasm to the next. She was barely aware of him kneeling up, lodging the wide head of his cock in her welcoming entrance. As he slowly entered her, forcing her tight sheath to accept his invasion, the burning sensation became part of the contractions rolling through her. He tilted her hips slightly to accommodate his size, and then he surged forward, driving deep, welding them together.

She felt stretched. Full. She felt his heart beat through his cock as he withdrew and then surged forward again, sending streaks of white-hot lightning through her entire body. He felt thick and hot, pulsing with urgent demand, stretching her so she fit tight around him.

He was being careful of her, but she didn’t want or need careful. She lifted her hips to meet every stroke, wanting deeper and faster and harder. Eyes on his, she impaled her body on his heavy cock, letting the feel of pleasure wash through and over her. She saw he was fighting for control, and she didn’t want him in control. She sensed the rising wildness in him and merged more fully to feel what he was feeling.

His entire body was hot and hard, his groin and belly on fire. The way her breasts jolted at every surge added to his pleasure. Her sheath, surrounding him, was a tunnel of silk and fire, so hot and tight that he could barely breathe. Barely think. With every stroke, the friction increased. Hotter. Wilder.

More,she encouraged him.Let go. I’m not afraid.She wasn’t. His feral nature only called to the wildness in her.

The pleasure continued to rise with every surge of his hips as he drove into her again and again. Her tight muscles clenched around him, wanting to keep him, reluctant to allow him to slide back. She felt his cock swelling even more, pressing tight against her sheath. The friction was scalding now, searing them both, threatening to take them over the edge. Her muscles clenched in demand as white-hot flames added to the ecstasy of the moment.

There was no holding back, as much as she wanted to. Her fingers dug into the comforter she writhed on as he leaned closer to her, once again changing his angle. Her body clamped down on his, milking and suckling to drag every bit of his essence from him. The orgasm rolled through her like an earthquake, followed by another and another as his hips drove harder and deeper.

His hoarse shout mingled with her sobbing cry of his name. She felt the heat of his release, the rocketing jets of seed coating her walls and triggering more powerful quakes.

His body shuddering with pleasure, Afanasiv collapsed over her, burying his face in her neck. His tongue slid over her pounding pulse, and then his teeth sank deep. Her body went wild again, clamping down, desperate for more.

His cock seemed as full as ever as he moved in her, one hand stroking her breast and then tugging at her nipple. All the while, his hips moved, driving deep again while he took her blood. It was the most erotic moment she could imagine. She sank her fingers into his thick hair, raising her hips to meet his while he sent jagged bolts of lightning flashing through every nerve ending leading straight to her sex.

He closed the twin holes in her neck with a sweep of his tongue and caught her legs, pushing them back so her knees were nearly in line with her head. At the same time, he leaned over her.Take my blood, sívamet.


Tags: Christine Feehan Paranormal