Page 92 of Feral Possession

“Okay.” She set her hands on the keys, playing the first few measures of “Für Elise.” She played at a quarter of the usual speed, the melody sounding more like a lullaby.

He skimmed his palms up her thighs, smiling when she sucked in a breath. “What are you doing?” She stumbled over the next note, the sound stabbing and painful.

“Don’t stop playing,” he warned, voice a husky rumble. “If you stop, I stop.”

“Such a taskmaster,” she purred, her graceful hands gliding along the keyboard.

He pressed his lips to her bare shoulder, breathing in her sweet jasmine scent while caressing the inside of her thighs. She tilted her head to give him better access. His fingers roamed higher, grazing her center. Dove gasped, her fingers clunking on the keys. When she faltered, he stilled, warning, “You stop, I stop.”

Shadows thickened beneath them. His demon rose, though Shadow’s conscience stayed in the background.

“Oh, that is so unfair,” she groaned, picking up her song where she left off.

“I thought you enjoyed the games we play,” he said, his voice dark, thick with shadows.

“Steele?” She stiffened, going cold in his arms.

“I’m here,” he promised. Yes, the spirit was present, but not in control. His demon, his wingman, knew better than to interrupt his time with Dove. Still, could this be the reason she’d withdrawn from him?

He trailed one hand up her flank to her breast and teased a circle around her hardened nipple. “Have you grown to fear me, sweet Dove?” His chest tightened, and he held his breath.

She tensed in his embrace. “What? No, of course not. It’s just, at Claymore, with Adam…”

“You know I would never harm you.” He’d sooner cut out his own heart. The revelation stunned him. How did this slip of a faerie come to mean so much to him?

She abandoned her playing, stood, and turned in his arms. “I know that.” She cupped his jaw in her soft hands. “Nor would I ever harm you.”

His lips curled, and he fought a smile at the fierce expression on her beautiful face. “Good, glad that’s settled.” He ran his palms up the back of her silken thighs, hooked her panties beneath his thumbs, and glided them down her legs. Dove gazed down at him, eyes gleaming with anticipation. She rubbed his bare shoulders, fingertips caressing both halves of him equally. It was then he realized he’d felt no need to hide nor cover himself when he’d abandoned his bed, prowling his penthouse in black sleep pants. He’d given zero thought to his appearance. Nor had she, other than to gaze at him with desire and perhaps something more. His Chosen, his female, his twinkling star in the darkness. She really was too good to be true.

He stood, clasping her to him and setting her on the piano. Dove uttered a startled noise as she set her bare feet on the keys, striking an inharmonic note.

She offered him a seductive grin that sent a jolt of heat straight to his shaft. “Shall I play you a tune with my toes, Lord Steele?”

He wedged himself between her knees, grasped the back of her neck, and grated against her mouth, “Only if you scream my name as you do so.” He smashed his lips against hers, swallowing her gasp. She tasted of moonlight and stardust, everything that was shining and bright in the night sky. He wanted more of that light. Needed her to illuminate the dark shadows of his soul.

But before he could take, he must give.

He tore his mouth from hers, and she mewed a sound of protest until he nuzzled her throat. Breathed in her scent. Kissed a path between her breast. Exhaled a hot breath against her rounded stomach. With eager hands, he pushed her silken gown up over her thighs, baring the most delectable of treats.

Her feminine core called to him, slick folds glistening in the moonlight. This female desired him. Wanted him. Just as he was. Dove watched with bated breath. Slim fingers glided through his hair, massaging his scalp. Her touch reverent.

“Please, Marcus,” she begged, and he was undone. He’d give her anything if she asked, and yet he knew she yearned for nothing material. This, however…

He nuzzled her center, taking in her feminine scent. Primal urges rose within. He wanted her fragrance on his skin. To mark himself.

“As you wish,” he murmured, tonguing her honeyed flesh.

“Marcus.” Her gasp was sweet music to his ears. He made love to the very heart of her. She lay back on the glossy piano, hips writhing, arms over her head. Dove, in the throes of passion, was a sight he wanted to burn into his mind. A memory he wanted scarred into his flesh so he could gaze upon it whenever he desired. This treasure, indeed, would make him a rich man.

“So fast. I’m close,” she cried. Her heels struck the keyboard, strings humming, but he didn’t hear the notes, only the need in her voice. “Almost. Almost. There!” She arched her back, hips rocking in his grasp.

He saw her through her orgasm, bringing her down with light touches.

His cock throbbed, eager to share her release. Soon.

“Help me up. My muscles are noodles.” She reached for him and he grasped her shoulders, drawing her up to face him. He kissed her long and deep. Drowning in her bliss. He wanted her to catch her unique flavor on his lips. To know she’d marked him.

“You beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, man,” she praised. Her words sweet against his lips. She tore her mouth from his. Kissed his cheek, his nose, his brow.

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