Burning Skies (Guardians of Ascension #2)

“Hey,” she cried, jerking her hand out of his grasp. “Could you slow down a little? I’m wearing heels.”

He turned back to her. “I apologize.” He slid his arm around her waist and stared at her. He stared until a resulting wave of honeysuckle flowed over him. “Good,” he said with a firm nod.

He remained glued to her side, walking at a pace she could easily maintain, until he got her to Medichi’s bedroom door. He knocked several times. He had to repeat this again and again, getting louder each time, until the door opened and Medichi, with one eye still closed, asked in a deep voice, “What is it?” He didn’t open the door farther than the width of his palm.

“Break the link.”

Medichi’s brows rose and his closed eye flipped open. He glanced from Havily to him and back. He closed both eyes this time for the space of about six seconds. Marcus glanced at Havily and watched as her head jerked and her brows rose.

“Done, asshole.” He shut the door with a snap.

Marcus turned to Havily. “We good?”

She drew in a deep breath. “He broke the link.”

Marcus growled then guided her back up the long hall to the intersection of the guest rooms. He made a hard left, then another, herding her into their bedroom. He shoved the door shut with his foot.

He picked her up, moved to the bed, and dumped her on her back. She gave a cry of surprise, but he had a point to make and he needed her to understand exactly what that point was.

She scrambled backward, but he leaned forward, put his hand on her stomach, glared at her, then folded her clothes off, even her thong.

She gasped then laughed. “What is with you?”

“I already told you but I don’t think you’ve taken me seriously on this subject.”

“Marcus…” Her tone was chiding, her head tilted.

He unbuttoned his shirt slowly as his gaze roved her exquisite breasts, her flat stomach, the rise of her pelvic bones, the soft thatch of red hair between her thighs. He unbuttoned his slacks, unzipped, and peeled them down his thighs. He didn’t have patience with the shoes and socks. These he got rid of the old-fashioned way as he thought the thought.

When he stripped off his briefs, he had the satisfaction of watching her gaze track down his chest, lower and lower, then latch onto his stiff cock. She licked her lips. He growled. He moved onto the bed, hands and knees, until he was over her. “Just so we’re clear,” he said, “you’re on bottom until I say otherwise, if I ever say otherwise.”

She nodded. He could tell by her scent, which flooded the space between them, and by the way her breaths were short and light, that he could have told her to stand on her head and she would have agreed to it. Good. He took her right arm and drew it straight out from her body. He took her left arm and did the same. Then he focused on each wrist and set small shields at the base of each of her hands. He might not be able to do big shields like Leto, but these he could do. It wouldn’t take much to break the preternatural bindings, and she could if she needed to, but right now he wanted her to feel restrained and bound.

She gasped. “What did you just do? I can’t move my wrists.” A wave of honeysuckle once more flooded his sinuses. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe and his cock throbbed.

“Shields.” His voice deepened. “You’re not allowed to object.” But he watched her carefully. He would relent if he saw the smallest sign of distress. However, a moan left her throat, she drew a ragged breath, then licked her lips, and honeysuckle once more assaulted him. Good. This was very good.

“Now, present your left vein.”

She tilted her head to the right, stretching it as far as she could. He shifted over her, his heart pounding. He was worked up, but he needed her to understand. “Mine,” he whispered. “Do you understand, Havily? This is mine.” He positioned his fangs over her vein then struck. She gave a little cry as he started to drink.

“I want my hands on you,” she cried, as she struggled against the invisible bindings.

Hush, he sent. But it pleased him.

He didn’t drink much before he withdrew from her vein, the tips of his fangs releasing a chemical that sealed the membrane. “Now your other vein.”

Havily rolled her head, this time to the left, and felt tears burn her eyes. He was too far away from her and she needed her hands on him, her arms around him, yet the restraints aroused her. Oh, his fangs sank into the other side of her neck and he was drinking again. She ached deep in her abdomen, within the well of her body. She felt her fluids seep from her. Even her wing-locks were wet beneath her back.

She moved her hips, trying to reach him, but he shifted away from her, all his actions designed to torment. So what did he need from her?

After less than a minute, he drew back from her neck. Then he lowered himself and cupped her left breast in his hand. She watched his fangs emerge again and he struck, not hard, and not for long. “Potions,” she murmured. “Oh, God. It’s been so long.”

Yes, he sent straight into her head as he withdrew his fangs.

Her back arched as he started to lave the already puckered tip. The potion worked fast, a wonderful burn that seeped into her nipple, her areola, then kept spreading until the breast he kneaded with his hand was an organ of intense pleasure.

She cried out and tears fell in earnest down her face.

He shifted slightly, his fangs poised over her other breast.

“Oh, Marcus,” she cried out. She didn’t know how much more she could take.

He struck again. The sting of his fangs penetrated her skin and caused her to clench, hard. Once more the potion was an erotic burn so that now both her breasts were on fire in the best possible way. She writhed beneath him.

Marcus kneaded the breast as he licked and suckled. Havily moaned, her hips swayed and rocked. Her legs caught him about the waist and worked hard to pull him into her, but he stayed just out of reach. She had physical strength; all vampires did. But he was male and he was stronger and he wouldn’t allow her release until she’d learned her lesson. She was in agony and he was pleased because when her release came it would be hot.

By now both breasts would be on fire. He pulled back and watched her, satisfied with her suffering as she writhed under him. “You should have told me you had a link with Medichi. You were very bad not to have broken it the same day I arrived and took you to bed. I need you to know that.”

But she was arching off the bed, her breasts puckered and reaching for him. If her wrists hadn’t been pinned, she would have wrapped her arms around him hard. The sight of her worked up just barely kept him from grabbing her about the waist and thrusting into her. However, he was just getting started with this instructive session.

Her legs scissored around him, trying to gain control of his hips. But he pushed back and broke the connection.

“I need you,” she cried. “Please.”

He put his hands on her legs and with his pecs and biceps flexing with effort, he pulled her legs from around him and spread them wide. He closed his eyes and the same clamp-like shields took hold of her ankles, pinning her spread-eagle on the bed.

All that could move now were here hips and her head. Both thrashed as she called out, “My breasts.”

“You want me to suckle your breasts?” he asked.

“At the very least,” she cried. “Marcus, what have you done to me? I want my hands on you.”

He suckled and played with her breasts until she was weeping all over again.

“Marcus,” she whimpered.

“No more telepathic links.”

“No. Never again.”

“Promise?”

“Oh, God yes. Anything.”

Anything. Now there was a temptation, but he restrained himself. Instead, he responded, “Good. Now that we have that settled, what is it you’d like me to do for you?”

“Take me,” she wailed.

He took hold of his cock in his right hand and rose up so that she could see him. “You mean with this?” He was fully aroused, weeping.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she hissed. “Oh, God, yes.”

He shook his head, smiled, and stroked himself in long pulls. “You’re not ready for me. I can tell.” A complete lie. He was sure if he put his finger in her she’d be wet, hot, and swollen.

She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned. “The potion is going deep now, traveling down my abdomen.” Her hips arched. “Marcus, please.” Her light green eyes were wild, her lips puffy, her chest rising and falling.

He laughed again. Her rich honeysuckle scent flooded the room. He loved having her at his mercy.

He knelt low between her legs and kissed her thatch of red curls. He separated her labia with his fingers. He bent down and in one long stroke licked her from her opening to the top of her clit. He had never heard a woman make a sound like that, a cross between a moan and a cry, a wild animal in torment. He moved in with his lips and sucked. Her groans turned deep and guttural and within a few seconds she was screaming her orgasm.

He wanted to stop what he was doing, leap on her and bury himself deep. But another part of him wanted to take this all the way, keep her pinned like this until he’d done what he’d started out to do.

He released her then moved up to her groin. There were veins he could tap but they were deep.

“Marcus,” she whispered, her breaths still little more than a lusty pant. “What are you thinking?”

He licked the space at the juncture of thigh and pelvis. “I think you know.”

She moaned at the ceiling and he swore the sound reverberated around the room.

But he wouldn’t do this without at the same time giving her another release. He slid a finger into her core, withdrew, then gave her two. Very slowly he stroked her, in and out, her body gripping him, her hips moving in a corresponding rock.

“Be still,” he commanded. “You need to be still when I do this.” She stopped and her breaths were now quick and shallow.

He positioned himself carefully and with a practiced strike, hit the vein on the right side of her groin. As she cried out in pleasure all over again, he sucked hard and worked her with his fingers, moving faster and faster.