Page 16 of Blood on the Ice

A hungry kiss cuts off the flow of my protests and my arms slide up behind his neck of their own volition. Our tongues tangle and teeth clash as the pent-up tension between us is finally unleashed. Large hands slip from my waist over my ass to my thighs and he lifts me up without the slightest bit of effort. My brain screams ‘bad idea,’ but my thighs wrap around his hips and squeeze. I can feel his erection through my thin suit pants and even though I know better, I rock against him as we kiss until we’re breathless.

I’ve never been good at listening to my logical inner voice—it’s what landed me here.

When our lips break for air, my eyes meet his and something in his gaze entrances me. The creatures inside of me practically purr with approval—and neither of them is the purring type. Blood and gore, yes, but kitten-ish satisfaction? That’s a new one for me. I lick my swollen bottom lip, our harsh pants the only noise in the room as we continue looking at one another as if hypnotized. The stand-off finally ends when I whisper, “What is happening to us?”

His laugh is part humor and part growl as he bears semi-elongated canines at me. “Fuck if I know, Morgana. This shit doesn’t happen to me. I don’t lose control.”

“I lose it all the time,” I reply as my fingertips brush over the hairs at the back of his neck. “But… this isn’t that.”

“No shit.” He rests his forehead on mine with a rumble in his chest. “I want to devour you. But that’s not all.”

I tilt my head, trying to ignore the crawling under my skin that indicates one of my supe sides wants me to shift. “Then what, Lucas? What else do you want?”

The smile that curves his lips up is sinful. “Other than to strip you naked on the island and make you scream? Hell if I know, Morgana. I’m a one night carnival and the rides don’t close; that’s as much as I can promise you. But at least I’m honest.”

It’s sad that’s a step up from anything I’ve had recently.

“And if I want to climb on the Tilt-A-Whirl tonight? What then?” I look at him through my lashes, my expression unsure. “You plaster it all over the internet to draw attention away from the impending murder charge?”

He snorts, backing me into the counter he just mentioned and pinning me there. “No. What we would do here is no one else’s business and we enjoy every second until it’s over.”

Closing my eyes, I savor the feel of a hard body and equally firm cock pressing against me. It’s been so very long and I don’t allow myself the luxury of taking what I need very often. Except for my vengeance, I haven’t given myself permission to enjoy anything since I discovered Magnus’ treachery.

Aren’t I owed just a little pleasure in this never ending punishment I’m living?

“Okay,” I breathe as I lean back on my hands, bracing on the marble countertop. “You win, Lucas.”

A purely masculine laugh escapes his lips as his hands grasp my thighs and lift me onto the cold island with ease. “Oh, no, Morgana. Trust me when I sayyou win.”

His hands knead my legs through the suit pants before he uses his palms to push my shoulders until I’m reclining on my elbows, looking up at him. Dipping his head, he nuzzles my breasts through my shirt and uses his hips to bump my legs apart. Teeth tug at my nipple through the thin button down and I let my head fall back on my shoulders as his mouth wets the fabric while he plays. A low throb builds in my pussy as he works his way down my body until he drops to his knees and yanks my hips forward to the edge of the counter.

“Lucas…”

“Shh.” His fingers work the buttons of my slacks and he lifts me a little to tug them over my ass to drop them on the floor. “I’m busy.”

I’d argue, but since his teeth are tugging my lacy thong down while he holds me up, I can’t say he’s mistaken. My ass hits the cool stone when he lowers me and warm hands spread me open so he can blow lightly over my bare mound. The juxtaposition of the temperatures makes me shiver, and he turns his head, sinking his teeth firmly into my inner thigh.

How he knew I’m a sucker for teeth, I have no idea.

“Baby likes to be marked. Good to know,” he murmurs before nipping and suckling at the tender skin leading up to the juncture of my thighs eagerly.

“Uh-huh.”

When his mouth hits me, I know I’m damn near dripping. Lucas might be young, but he’s got skills. His tongue traces along the seam of my pussy, then further back to my entrance, drawing a low, dark moan out of me. My core clenches when he finally flicks the tip of his tongue over my clit and he growls softly in response. His tongue traces circles around the aching nerves, teasing me in a way I’ve never experienced before. At least, not without the help of a toy. I’ve dated a handful of men over the centuries and I haven’t met one yet who seems to enjoy this activity like the hungry bear in front of me.

But I can’t tell him that; it would be far too pathetic to admit.

“You taste like spicy peaches,” he mutters. I open my mouth to scoff, but that falls out of my mind completely when he thrusts two thick fingers inside of me as he continues torturing my clit with patterns and licks that make my thighs tremble.

My back arches off the counter and I can’t help but rock into him, letting the jolts of pleasure rocket through me. Between teeth, tongue, and fingers, the sensations assault me and meltevery protest and worry from my brain. It doesn’t take long before I realize I’m going to come—and hard—all over his face and hand. Wiggling a little, I try to push him off so he can fuck me, but he holds firm. There are definitely going to be bruises on my hips from his firm grip because he will not let go until I…

The orgasm that slams into me takes me by surprise and I let out a strangled scream, grasping at air with hands that have shifted into dark, charcoal claws unbidden. I know my skin color is changing and I vaguely hear the low hiss of the girls emerging, but my body is shaking with the intensity of the climax Lucas pulled from him. He laps up the juices slowly, as if savoring me, and then places an oddly gentle kiss at my apex before he lifts his head to snarl.

“By Odin’s beard, Morgana… you’re…”

I flush, knowing that the dark gray color of my skin as it partially shifted paired with my hair writhing under me is weird and unattractive. That’s what I’ve always been told, especially by Magnus, and I want to wrap my arms around myself to hide it all in shame. “I know; I’m sorry. I lost control and I can’t…”

“Oh, no. Baby, don’t youdarecover an inch of yourself. You’re fucking stunning.”

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