Page 23 of Thirst
A shake of her head.
A puff of laughter escaped me. “Why did I think you’d say you’d never lie to me? I can never predict you.”
She pulled off long enough to say, “That’s why you like me,” then took me inside her mouth again.
She was right. Her unpredictability was why I liked her even though I didn’t trust her—not completely, anyway.
And in some strange, yeah, I’m definitely abnormal way, I liked that I couldn’t fully trust her. The challenge of Nyx—that edge of danger—excited me. I enjoyed seeing how far I could push her. What she’d accept.
She touched a spot with her tongue that made my eyes roll back in my head. My balls drew up tight, heat building in my lower spine.
“That’s it,” I muttered. “Make me come like a good girl. My good girl.”
She moaned my name around my length. Her eyes were closed again, her face flushed. One hand slipped between her thighs, touching herself, and her obvious enjoyment increased mine.
Time stretched like warm taffy. The only things in the world were her hot, wet mouth and the hands that seemed to be everywhere, gripping my dick, massaging my stones.
I wanted to last longer, but she touched her teeth to my already sensitized flesh and a fireball exploded up my spine.
“Fuuu-ck.” I groaned and emptied myself into her throat in a few hard pumps, loving how she swallowed it down, dimly aware that she was coming too, her cries muffled, sexy.
When she released me, she stayed on her knees, cheek resting against my bare thigh. Pulling up my pants, I lowered my ass to the marble tiles and drew her onto my lap, my back against the iron rails.
Her arms came around me in a loose hug. I rested my head against her hair, inhaling Nyx. Earth and sage, smoky and sweet.
Something in me sighed, settled. I’d missed her, damn it.
Hell, I’d been worried about her.
After that operation on the island, she’d gone missing. I’d wondered why, of course, but we weren’t exactly in regular contact, and I’d already pushed things too far while we were scrambling to get Eden back from those SOBs.
When a month passed with no sign of Nyx, not even at QCS events, I’d started to get uneasy. I’d wanted to investigate, but if she was in trouble, me sniffing around could make it worse.
Still, while I was in Quebec trying to dig up something damning on Nazaire, I kept an eye out for her. Eventually she resurfaced at a couple of QCS parties—exclusive ones I couldn’t crash without blowing my cover, even if I’d known ahead of time that she’d be in attendance.
So when Donald, our man in Quebec City, tipped me off that Nyx was going to be at an art show in Paris, I’d jumped on a jet.
I’d been half-crazed with an unnamed fear until I saw her in that gallery, laughing, flirting, alive. Only then did the tightness in my chest loosen.
Nyx lifted her head. “I’d better go. They…watch me now. I can’t be gone the whole night.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know how you can live like that. Does the money mean that much?”
She gave a twisted little smile. “You think he’d let me just walk out the door?”
I frowned. It was the first crack I’d seen in Nyx’s loyalty to her sire. “Maybe not,” I answered, still trying to make all the pieces line up. “But you seem all in. Makes me wonder if you’ve been playing me the whole time.”
She went rigid. Then she tore herself out of my hold, landing on her ass a couple feet away.
“Are you serious?” Her voice broke on the words. “These times with you? They’re everything to me. When things get bad, I think about you, and that’s how I?—”
She sounded devastated, like losing my trust wasn’t just a blow—it was the worst thing that could’ve happened to her.
And what did she mean, “when things get bad”?
“This is about Eden, isn’t?” She scrubbed her hands down her face, barreling on before I could answer. “You don’t get it. I knew you people had a dinghy, and I stalled the explosion so you’d have time to escape. Nazaire was so angry at me for screwing up?—”
She rolled her lips into her mouth like she was swallowing the rest. Like explaining wouldn’t change a damn thing.
