Page 14 of Dark Hunter's Touch
There was magic in the world, and by rights he should be terrified to realize how it had captured him—howshehad captured him with a nip, a tickle, a smile.
And the lush, swellingfeelingshe demanded of him.
Because, damn, he felt it too. How could he not? No wonder the others wanted her, why they wouldn’t let her go. They knew, as he now knew, the passion in her was something to be coveted, stolen if necessary.
He raised her hips to his, tilting her to reach deeply, fully. The slick dampness of their coupling glistened where his cock met her smooth mound, gleaming in the wisp light. Underneath his knees, the bed groaned, and Olette echoed it with a moan of her own. The sound quickened his pulse, and he quickened his rhythm, just as they had sprinted together with the hounds of hell behind them, toward that cliff’s edge.
This time, he would push them over. This time he would carry her as she fell.
He felt her muscles tightening with anticipation, tempting him to lose control, to forget everything except the lust exploding in his veins, but he powered through every stroke—deeper, fuller—counting the wisps beyond the window to stop himself from coming.
Her breath rattled in sensual pants, singing along his nerves until he was breathing with her, each thrust moving them closer, closer…
Despite his best intentions to linger, the force of her climax seized them both. She jackknifed against him, clasping him tight with arms, wings, the vibrating flesh inside her that contracted around him with a power that made his eyes roll back in his head. Helplessly, his body followed her lead. His cock spasmed in violent bursts. Every spurt rocked him against her, and she called his name in time, more breathless with each gasp.
A last shudder racked him as his limbs collapsed, and he slumped over her, chest heaving. If he’d been thrown down a cliff, rolled across a sand dune and tossed into the ocean to wash up on the distant shores of some exotic land, he would not have been left more wrecked.
Arms trembling with a mortifying weakness, he managed to prop himself to one side of her. Their legs sprawled entangled, her wing limp across their thighs.
She stared up. “Oh. Oh my.”
The wonder in her voice made him grin. He settled one hand on the soft curve of her backside. Her skin quivered in aftershock. “Did you feel that?”
She rolled her head across the mattress to meet his gaze. “You know I did. Don’t get cocky.”
He lifted one eyebrow and flexed inside her.
She giggled. Then she put her hand over her mouth, but her eyes twinkled at him. Slowly, she lowered her hand. “Very well then. You may get cocky. Again.” She was obviously trying for a tone of royal indifference, but her lowered hand kept lowering, sweeping down the length of him, which made sure that no part of him was going lower.
Thinking of going down was giving him ideas, and he flexed again. Her smile faded and she half closed her eyes, a sultry look.
“We have the night, you said,” he reminded her.
“Every minute. I did not forget.”
“I won’t either. I’ll count each second.”
“So few.” Her whisper tingled on his skin.
“Enough.”
When she might have objected, he kissed her, drawing her in, losing himself again.
It was still dark when they finally fell, side by side, sated.
She splayed across his chest, stroking circles over his skin. With one limp flap of her wing, she covered them both.
As her breath evened, she laughed softly. “Phew. Good thing I’ve been running.”
“Good thing I run faster.” He tightened his arm over her shoulder.
She snuggled down to bump the crown of her head under his chin, her head resting over his heart. “Good thing I got caught.”
Her sigh was warm down his bare chest. But something inside him went cold.
“Not caught,” he protested. “Merely…where you belong.”
She nudged him again. “You think I belong here, hmm? That is what the fae say too. I am a wanted sylfana. Lucky me.”
