Page 21 of Thirst
“No, don’t stop.” His fingers wrapped around my skull, keeping me where I was. Taking control and yet indulging me. The combination sent a curl of heat through me.
He liked it, too. The proof pressed against my stomach, long and hard.
I slid my hand down his belly, toying with his waistband. “I believe I owe you something,” I said against his throat.
He drew a slow breath. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I squeezed him through his pants.
“That’s right.” His hands settled on my hips, gathering up my dress. He smoothed a palm over my bare bottom, his voice a sexy rasp. “I made you come, didn’t I? Twice. You owe me for that.”
I met his eyes. The silver-blue had darkened, his irises encircled by a flaming cobalt. Tension thrummed between us.
I wet my lips. “I always pay my debts.”
“Good, because my dick intends to collect.”
“Yeah?” I cupped him through his pants. “I might like that.”
He smacked my ass, hard enough to make me gasp. “Take off your dress.”
He released me and watched, his gaze hot enough to scorch my flesh, as I wriggled out of the fishnet. “The bra, too,” he ordered.
I complied, ass still stinging, then lowered to my knees in front of him, my hands on his thighs.
He put his hands on the iron rail on either side of his hips, jacket falling open, chest gleaming, like one of those blond, blue-eyed angels from the stories my human nanny used to tell me. Except this angel had teeth and hunger and a darkness that called to mine.
I undid his pants, eased the zipper down. He’d gone commando so his cock sprang out, brushing my cheek. I ran a finger up the smooth, veined length.
He regarded me from beneath thick, dark lashes. “Keep going.”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” I said, only half-teasing.
Closing both hands around him, I rubbed a thumb over the tip, wet with pre-cum, enjoying his hiss of pleasure. I licked the salty liquid, then drew his head between my lips, slow and easy.
He let me take the lead for a minute before moving his hands to my head, holding me still so he could stroke deeper into my mouth. I sucked harder and his body went rock-hard.
“That’s it,” he said, tone hoarse. “Take me—all of me. Show me how good you can be.”
At his praise, I felt a pull between my legs. I wanted to please him. Wanted to replace his anger with me with something that pleasured us both. To apologize for rigging that damn boat to explode.
Sweet Luna, I was fucked up. We both were.
Like a sexual act could make up for that.
But Cain didn’t seem to care about my fucked-upness, and I didn’t care about his. In fact, it turned me on.
Maybe it was the same for him.
7
Cain
My hands tightened on Nyx’s head. From a room below came the muted sound of voices, but here on the balcony, we were hidden in the fog.
She took me deeper and I went with it, pushing even further. I was a bastard for letting her do this on her knees on the balcony’s cold tiles, but something about Nyx brought out the prick in me. Maybe it was her fairy-princess vibe, the way she’d grown up rich and pampered while I’d been kicked around, told I was dirt.
I’d only been in the same room with her and Nazaire once—the night we met at that party thrown by the Montreal prima. But it was enough. I’d seen how her sire treated her, ordering her around, talking down to her like she was a thrall instead of his own daughter. And she’d taken it, standing there smiling and silent, the perfect little syndicate princess.
