Page 51 of Mated to the Mad Marquess

“She likes to watch,” he told Solis.

Malcolm’s soul blanketed her in darkness, then scooped her up off the bed with arms she couldn’t see in all the inky black. He turned her with ease and sat her before him on the bed so that her wings and back fitted against the satin expanse that made up his chest, holding her partially upright. When the darkness retreated, her head lolled against his shadowy shoulder. Solis’s hands encircled her body to palm both breasts, kneading each, teasing her nipples to hard points, and a breathy moan parted her lips.

Malcolm removed her boots, then her trousers completely, pulling them down over her ankles and tossing them carelessly. He shucked his shoes and his trousers next. Opening his shirt, he shouldered out of it. His cock was a hard rod of flesh, jutting toward his belly, still glossy with her pleasure.

He looked like one of the old gods.

On his knees, he joined her on the bed. Spreading her wide, he shifted into the cradle of her thighs, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Am I a horse, little bird?”

“You’re not,” she gasped. Solis gently tweaked her nipples, and her back arched.

Malcolm pulled her onto his cock. His hips moved slowly at first, gentle rotations that made her feel full and desperate. He grasped her thighs, securing her to him. She dug her heels into his ass to pull him closer, deeper. He came willingly, sinking into her greedy heat. Her body responded, gripping him like he belonged there. Solis’s tail slid around her stomach, brushing down her navel and over the dark curls that crowned her sex.

As Malcolm pumped into her, Hrafn watched him disappearing inside her body, hypnotized by the slick sound of their hips meeting. Solis teased her tenderly with tendrils of midnight. His velvety touch worked the sensitive crest of her sex until she saw stars, while warm pressure tantalized the entrance to her ass. She moaned and gasped for breath. Made wet by her pleasure, Solis pressed inside her slowly and shallowly, and her orgasm shook through her.

But that was only the first climax. They took turns working her to release; Malcolm emptied into her, then Solis would take over. When Malcolm was ready he’d take the lead again. He’d hold her and tease her or pin her to the bed. She wouldn’t dare say she was tired or call him a horse and bring it all to an end. This was the last time with her mate.

She didn’t want it ever to end. She wanted the inevitable goodbye to go far away and never return.

* * *

Eventually it did end. Spent and exhausted, they dozed in a heap on the bed. Hrafn warned him again about her restless habits when she slumbered.

“Is it the war?” Malcolm guessed. He was on his back, hand propped behind his head. She used him as a pillow, wings tucked beneath her. Solis curled up behind her, his tail wrapped possessively around her waist.

“No,” she said, “I’m not haunted. The war was long ago, and I rarely remember my dreams anyway. It’s the centuries of training.”

“Ah,” he said.

“Over and over again, I’ve coached my body to make certain movements. It remembers in my sleep. I kick and hit things. If we stay here, I’m bound to slip into slumber.” She yawned.

“Are you comfortable?” He raised a brow at her.

“Very,” she cooed.

“Then I’ll be just fine.”

Chapter 13

Malcolm

Malcolm was not fine. Hrafn flopped about. Twice she stole his pillows. Her wing struck him in the face, jerking him awake from a deep slumber. She was an absolutely terrible bed companion when rest was the goal, but Malcolm was determined. He sensed she wanted his presence beside her, and he craved the intimacy of sleeping with her, so he would gift her with just that.

She stole all the covers, exposing him to the night air.

Malcolm managed to reclaim one of his pillows from the small nest she’d built for herself in her sleep in the center of the bed, forcing him to the very edge. He put the cushion between his legs, protecting his tender bits.

She punched him in the gut, mumbling in her sleep, and Malcolm almost gave up. He could make a bed on the floor instead. It was safer down there.

Solis had the bright idea to wrap her up snug, blanketing her in thick shadows. When she kicked and when she thrashed, his soft expanse absorbed the blow.

Malcolm finally got some sleep.

* * *

When Malcolm awoke it was morning, and he was alone—but not for long. The hall echoed with familiar laughter. The door to the guest chamber sprung open. Without knocking, Margot and Susan entered. Seven little clumps of shadows trailed them into the room. The little ones made a mess of the old coals in the cold fireplace.

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