Obsidian Flame

But she wasn’t done. She soaped up the backs of his legs, savoring the feel of the hair all the way down.

Of course, she’d saved the best for last. As she rose up, she demanded that he turn around once more to face her.

“I’m going to use my hand now and make sure you’re really clean.”

A kind of growlish-grunt came out of his mouth but he said, “I like your short blond hair. I thought I’d miss all that brown length but I don’t. This look suits you.”

She smiled up at him, craning her neck. “I must look like a drowned rat.”

He shook his head. “Nope. You’re beautiful.” He dipped down and kissed her. “Now, what were you saying about getting me really clean?” He smiled and suddenly her chest felt on fire. Oh, God, she couldn’t really be in love with him, not really in love with him, could she?

She glanced down and his length bobbed in front of her, hard and ready for her hands. She slid her soapy fingers over him. His back arched and his thighs flexed. “Shit, that feels good.”

That same fire-laden sensation continued to invade her chest as she worked his cock, gliding up and back, taking her time, thumbing the broad crown. She liked this man. She always had. She pretended to be completely engaged in her task, but her mind had spiraled elsewhere. She kept digging up images of Thorne coming to her at dawn at the Convent, making love to her on that horrible bed, enjoying and savoring her body, each time as intense as if it might be the last.

But here she was in the security of a strange unknown colony on Mortal Earth, hidden away, and she was actually spending time with him, and taking her time. She’d always been afraid that Grace would come back—and wouldn’t that have been embarrassing for brother and sister.

So here she was taking pleasure in doing something she’d never done with him before, just stroking him and playing with him.

The soap had a slight floral scent, but the shower had filled with that fragrant cherry tobacco scent of his, which had begun working like a couple of quick perfect fingers between her legs. Desire spun through her.

Thorne released a rush of air like he was holding back a cyclone, then spun her gently away from the spray and eased her against the shower wall, still facing her. He was breathing hard.

“I need you,” he whispered. He got in close and spoke into her ear. The whole time she worked his cock, all the way to the base and back.

“I need you, too.” Her voice sounded like rocks covered with mashed potatoes. She cleared her throat. Okay, so they were both breathing hard.

He grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her up, letting her back stay snug against the wall. She knew where he was headed, so she wrapped her legs around his waist. The position put her closer to eye level so she didn’t have to look so far up.

“Do it,” she whispered, but she planted a hand on his chest and pushed just a little. “Not so close, though. I want to watch.”

That beautiful smile of his appeared again.

She looked down and this time she smiled because her wax gave her the best view she’d ever had of Thorne’s cock entering her. She tilted her hips a little. His knees were bent and his thighs flexed as he pushed, just a little at a time. His cock was dark pink and rigid, a solid pole entering her, and as his body pulsed and pushed, a hiss slid from between her teeth.

“So good. I love this, Thorne. I do, I do.”

“Oh, yeah.” Could his voice get any deeper? “I’m almost all the way in. Shit, Marguerite, you’re so damn tight. Almost like ear—I mean, like all those other times.”

“All those other times?”

“Yeah, in the Convent. Never mind. Shit you feel so good.”

He’d almost said earlier. She was sure of it. Had he done some kind of mind-diving when she’d been bonking José? Could he do that kind of thing?

She might have pursued it, but he’d reached the end of her and now he was pulling back out, a slow, sensual withdrawal that brought a deep moan out of her throat. She arched her neck, and he didn’t wait for further invitation. He licked her throat and her vein rose so fast that she wasn’t surprised that he struck quickly and started drinking.

Oh, God, she sent. She hadn’t meant to do that, to enter his mind, but there she was.

You taste so good.

You’re so hard, rock-hard.

He thrust in a steady driving pace and it was heaven. Between all that thickness moving in and out and the feel of his mouth sucking hard at her neck and taking her blood, she was on the cusp, heavily on the cusp.

But it felt different somehow, different in a really good way. That she’d thought of mind-diving made her wonder what it would be like. She knew she had power, lots of it, and she also knew that being deep in the mind of another vampire could trigger some added pleasure.

Thorne?

Yeah, baby. Oh, God, your blood. I can feel it working my muscles. I feel stronger. Just … just tell me what you want but damn I’m close.

I want in, as in deep-mind engagement. Now.

He’d never allowed it before because Endelle had a mind-link with him. He’d always feared she’d discover the truth and ship Marguerite’s ass to the Superstition Fortress.

A long pause. Maybe he was figuring out the question. Or maybe the hesitation meant something else.

The sucking slowed, as did the surge of his hips.

You sure?

Yeah.

He resumed the heavy sucking and began pushing into her with deep thrusts. Do it, he sent.

She hissed and mentally gave a big push and suddenly she was just inside his mind as deep as she could get.

He groaned long and loud but kept pulling at her neck.

But the image that hit her brought pleasure streaking through her, bringing her close. She could see Thorne over her, making love to her, but he wasn’t himself, he was José, or in José’s mind, or something.

Maybe she should have been mad. Instead, she gave a cry because it was hot as hell and Thorne began to pound into her, the sound of his flesh against hers a loud slap even with the water still hitting his back.

The orgasm crashed down on her almost as hard as the recent vision so that she was suddenly clinging to him and experiencing pleasure like she had never known before. Being in his mind was a ride or maybe the ride, the part of the experience she’d needed all this time, all these decades to really go through the roof.

And it just kept rolling, over and over, sharpening along her bare clit, streaking up the inside of her until she was pulling hard on Thorne’s cock, begging him to give her what she wanted.

Give it to me, she practically shouted within his mind.

Fuck, came back to her.

He shoved into her hard, released her neck, and shouted at the ceiling.

She could feel his release and because she was in his mind, she could even experience his pleasure, which triggered hers all over again, so that as he thrust hard, she came and came and came, crying out and pressing her mound against him.

It’s never been like this.

“No, it hasn’t.” His movements slowed, but his breathing was a harsh rasp in the shower.

“I’m shutting the water off,” he said. “Damn, that got cold.” He must have used his mind because he didn’t let go of her and suddenly the water stopped spraying. “I don’t want to let go of you yet.”

“You’d better not,” she said. She slid her arms up around his neck then kissed him. “I like being inside your head. That was the best we’ve ever done together.”

He nodded and chuckled. “You’re a pain in the ass, Marguerite, but I love the way you talk to me.”

“I’m gonna leave your head now,” she said.

Again, he nodded. His lips were parted as he sucked in air.

She pulled out of his mind and it was the strangest rubbery sensation, like pulling taffy or something, until at last she left him. Still, he remained in the shower, holding her ass firmly in both hands and keeping them joined.

She wiggled her hips so that she could feel him deep inside. “This feels good,” she said. She looked into his eyes, gorgeous hazel eyes. Usually they were bloodshot, but not now. Of course, he’d been off duty for three weeks chasing her across the country and back, which meant he’d been off the Ketel One.

Now here they were, joined like two people would be joined who’d been making love for a century. Only this had been better. Of course, they’d only had sex while she’d been held captive and he’d been worked to death as a warrior.

There was, however, one issue she needed clearing up.

“So what the hell was that with José?”

“Oh, was that his name?”

“You know damn well that’s his name. You were in his head, weren’t you? And when you’d had sex, you didn’t mean with another woman, did you? What was this, like some kind of ménage à trois?”

“I guess,” he said, with a slight shrug. “Worked for me. And it kept me from killing him.”

Her shoulders dropped, and she leaned her head against his neck and sighed. “I’m glad. I couldn’t stand the thought of you with another woman. I know that makes me the worst kind of hypocrite when I shagged José, but I think I’d kill her. I’m beginning to understand why that woman with the long dark hair was so upset with me. What was her name? The one bonded to that tall gorgeous Italian?”

“Parisa.”

“Yeah, she about ripped my face off when I flirted with her man.”

“I remember.” His arms tightened around her.

“I’d be like that if we took this much farther. I’d want to kill any woman who looked at you.”

“Then tell me you understand my dilemma a little.”

She lifted up, her arms still hooked around his neck. “So you wanted to kill José?”

“Yeah. I almost did, too. Then I worked it out in my head.”

“Or his head.”

“I guess you could say that.”

She yawned. “You want to sleep with me tonight?” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">