Dalakis Passion 4 - Eternal Brothers (26 page)

that it could be done successfully. But he wasn't taking any chances. If Sophia ever
looked at him with hate in her beautiful pale green eyes, he knew it would drive him
over the edge and into insanity as it had done with his father.
His life was now as long as hers and he didn't want to waste a single moment of it.
Sliding his hand upward, he cupped her breast in his hand.
So small and delicate, but
so very sensitive.
He tweaked her nipple and felt her inner muscles clench around him.
They were both breathing heavily now as steam surrounded them. He wanted to
move but held himself steady, feeling his cock pulsing deep within her
cunt
. His balls
were tight and heavy and he knew he didn't have much longer.
Inserting his other hand between her back and his front, he rubbed a finger over the
tight opening of her ass. She shrieked and jerked in his arms. "Let me inside." He
flicked her nipple with his fingers, moving from one breast to the other. Groaning, she
relaxed in his grasp.
His fingers were slippery with soap as he pressed the tip past the tight opening of
her ass. He could feel her tense and nipped at the base of her neck with his teeth. He
then soothed the sting with his tongue. "Relax."
She panted heavily and leaned her forehead against the wall. "I'm trying."
Zane pushed his finger deeper, feeling her stretch and expand. He pressed his
finger to the front and could feel the pulsing of his cock inside her pussy. It was
incredible. "Nobody has ever taken you this way before, have they?"
She shook her head as he slowly eased his finger out. "I'm going to fuck you this
way someday if you'll let me. God, Sophia, you'd be so damn tight, we'd both go
crazy."
"Yes," she moaned.
"Anything.
Everything.
Just fuck me now."
Zane started to chuckle, pleased at her demands, but it turned into a groan as her
pussy clenched him tight. Reaching his hand around to her front, he spread her labia
wide and stroked a finger over her clit. He gently pinched her nipple rhythmically and
she cried out his name.
Keeping up the teasing motions on her nipple and clit, he bent his legs until his
cock was almost all the way out. Then he thrust back in.
Hard.
"Zane," she cried, her fingers clawing at the tiles. He could hear the desperation in
her voice--it matched his own.
His thrusts grew faster and harder, until his hips were pumping so heavily that her
feet began to leave the floor with each trust. She was whimpering now, her hot, moist
cunt
clenching him so tight he could barely slide his cock in and out.
"Zane," she screamed. Her
cunt
tightened around him so hard it was almost
painful. Then she began to convulse.
He could feel his vision turning a hazy red and his fangs shooting down though his
gums as he plunged deep one more time, pushing her feet right off the floor. Bloodlust
roared though his veins, demanding satisfaction. The cool blood he had stored in his
refrigerator at home and had been forced to consume this past week had only fed his
hunger. He longed for Sophia's hot, rich blood.
He wrapped one arm around her waist, desperately trying to ignore the bloodlust
growing inside him, and slammed his other hand against the wall for support as cum
shot hot and deep within her. Her pussy milked his cock, wringing every drop from
him.
He managed to keep them both upright as they shook and trembled. Sophia tilted
her head to one side, exposing her neck. He could see the heavy throb of her pulse. "Are
you sure?" he growled, already licking his lips in anticipation.
"Do it."
He needed no further urging. Her skin was wet and salty as he licked it. He sank
his fangs deep and his cock began to pulse again as sweet, hot blood hit his tongue.
Sophia cried out and convulsed as another orgasm hit her.
He drank and could feel his cells sucking in her essence, making her a part of him.
He would never leave her.
Never.
She was his for as long as they had together and he
would cherish every moment.
Sophia shivered and he suddenly realized that the water had gone cold. Carefully
withdrawing his fangs, he stroked his tongue over the pinpricks, closing them and
beginning the healing process. He slid his still-heavy erection from her body, catching
her when she slumped toward the wall.
Holding her tight in his arms, he grabbed a washcloth and quickly cleaned them
both up and then turned off the water. Steam filled the small room as he lifted her out
of the shower and leaned her against the counter. Grabbing a towel, he quickly dried
them both off and then lifted her into his arms once again. She didn't even open her
eyes as he carried her into her bedroom and tucked her into bed.
He knew he had to leave, but he wanted to hold her in his arms and feel her
heartbeat against his.
Just a few minutes.
What could it hurt?
Ignoring the warning in his mind, he slid in beside her. She rolled toward him,
settling her head on his shoulder and pressing a hand over his heart as if she'd been
sleeping with him for years. It felt right and good.
He'd only stay a moment and then he'd leave. Settling himself, he soaked in the
pleasure of having her next to him.
Chapter Nineteen
Cassidy was frustrated. Raking his fingers though his hair, he tried to calm himself
before he went into the library to get Blythe. They'd all called it quits earlier than usual,
but it was still only about an hour until dawn.
He stalked into the room and then came to an abrupt halt. Blythe was curled up in
one corner of the sofa, fast asleep. She looked younger in sleep, less guarded. Her
blonde hair covered the pillow, creating a halo around her face. Damn, she was
beautiful. But it wasn't just her beauty that drew him. He was too old to be attracted to
just a pretty face.
No, it was Blythe herself.
The inner strength that shone from within her.
The shy
way that she was around the others.
She was a contradiction--one minute brash, the
next uncertain. She wore her attitude around her like a shield, keeping them all at arm's
length. Not that he blamed her. Her life certainly hadn't been a bed of roses, but still, he
found in frustrating.
She made a small snuffling sound, but didn't wake. He strode toward her, making
sure his boots made no sound against the hardwood floor. Cassidy eased down onto the
sofa beside her, but her eyes popped open the second he touched the cushion. Fear
filled her eyes, but she quickly hid it behind her mask of indifference. Cassidy wanted
to howl and yell and beat his fists against the wall. Instead, he hooked a strand of hair
around her ear and then brushed the edge of his finger against the line of her jaw.
Arousal, swift and immediate, filled him. It was always like this around Blythe.
And she wasn't immune either. As he watched, her throat moved convulsively as she
swallowed. He sensed her uncertainty and knew that she wasn't quite sure if she
wanted to move away from him or toward him. They'd been playing this battle out all
week.
Cassidy made the decision for her, sitting back and giving her space. He liked to
think that it was disappointment that filled her face, but with his luck, it was relief. She
pulled herself up into a seated position, putting even more distance between them.
Barely stifling a yawn behind her hand, she stared at him. "No luck?"
Her voice washed through him like a physical caress. Soft, sultry and sleep-filled, it
was the kind of voice a man dreamed of hearing in the middle of the night. It was the
voice of a lover, sated and exhausted but wanting more.
Cassidy swallowed hard and shook his head.
"None."
He tried to ignore his hard-
on, but it was impossible. His earlier irritation returned. "We're hitting nothing but
dead ends on both sides."
Blythe reached out and brushed his arm with her hand. He felt that small caress
ricochet throughout his body, heating it, hardening it. "You'll catch a break soon. I
know you will."
The walls of the room seemed to close in around him. Cassidy needed to get out of
here, needed to get Blythe out of here. He wanted her all to himself and there was no
privacy to be found in this house. Cassidy knew that Lucian and Delight were still up
and around, and although he knew they wouldn't intrude, he wanted Blythe in his
home.
Standing, he held out his hand to her. "Come on. It's time to go home." It was
deliberate, his use of the word home. She stared at his hand and then into his face as if
searching for answers. He kept his face impassive, but couldn't help the bolt of
satisfaction that shot through him when she reached out and took his hand. He helped
her to her feet and then wrapped his arm around her, guiding her toward the back
door. He stopped long enough to check the monitors around the garden and set the
house alarm before ushering her quickly across the still-dark garden and into the
carriage house. Resetting the alarms on his own place, he then led her up the stairs and
into his apartment.
Home.
He supposed it was as much of a home as any place he'd lived over the
years. Up until Blythe had come to stay with him, it had just been a place to sleep and to
house his stuff. But since she'd come, the place had taken on an entirely different
feeling.
Whether she knew it or not, Blythe was a nester. He'd seen small signs of it in her
old apartment. The mismatched furniture that had been refinished, the brightly colored
thrift store plates and glasses stacked neatly on an open shelf and the myriad pillows
that had been scattered across her futon. She hadn't had much, but she'd made her
space comfortable, her own. Now she was doing the same thing to his place.
Little things, like an old glass jar filled with flowers from the garden that turned up
in the center of his kitchen table and the fact that a blanket from his closet was now
draped artistically across the back of his sofa. And instead of being pissed that she was
messing around with his space, he was charmed and pleased. He wanted her to feel
comfortable and settled.
Wanted her to feel at home.
Wanted her to stay.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. That was the bottom line. He wanted
Blythe to stay with him.
Forever.
Deep down he knew that she was waiting for this to
be over so she could get on with her life.
Without him.
He watched her scurry off to his bedroom--hers now, he supposed. He glanced
down at the sofa, resigning himself to another sleepless night. God, he was tired. The
past week he'd caught only a few catnaps here and there. He was running on empty
and he knew it. None of them could keep this up indefinitely. It was starting to fray
everyone's nerves to the breaking point.
He glanced over at the bedroom door, brooding as he yanked off his boots and
socks. His mood grew darker as he hauled the tails of his shirt out of his jeans and
undid the buttons. If she thought she was going to get rid of him easily when this was
over, she was in for a big surprise. His hands stilled as he slid the last button out of its
hole. And if she knew what he was thinking, she'd run now. Patience was the key.
Patience and time.
She was getting used to him, to all of them. Cassidy watched her sometimes when
she was with the other women and knew she was beginning to relax around them. That
was a plus as far as he was concerned. The closer she connected with them, the less
likely she was to be able to walk away from all of them when this was over.
Plus, she was starting to get used to him as well. Small things, like the way she took
his hand back at the house and then let him keep his arm around her as they walked
back to the carriage house. A week ago she wouldn't have reached out to him at all and
would have either shrugged off his arm or stiffened beneath it.
Rolling his shoulders to try to release some of the tension, he closed his eyes and
tried to ignore his throbbing dick. His eyes flew open when he heard a slight sound. He
wasn't worried though. Cassidy knew it was Blythe. Her warm, floral scent had wafted
through the doorway just before he heard the shuffle of her feet.
She was staring at him, hunger warring with uncertainty in her eyes. He could not
ignore the unspoken plea. Slowly, he stalked toward her, giving her plenty of time to
slam the bedroom door in his face. She stood there watching him, her blue eyes
growing larger with each step he took. Her cheeks, normally pale, were tinged with
pink. The bruises that had marred her face, making it sallow and dark, had faded
somewhat, but her soft skin was still marked by the trauma she'd been through.
Her chest was rising and falling with each breath she took, making her breasts
jiggle. She'd removed the clothing she'd been wearing earlier and was now clad only in
a pale blue T-shirt that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs. Her long, smooth legs
were bare and he couldn't tell if she was wearing any panties or if she was totally naked
beneath her shirt.
Cassidy's heart pounded and his own breathing was harsh as he stopped right in
front of her. He was so close that his bare toes touched hers. Blythe had to tip her head
back to look at him.
Every muscle in his body was tense with anticipation. His blood pumped thickly
through his body, most of it pooling heavily in his groin. His cock throbbed with a
primitive rhythm, demanding he slake his lust. But he wanted more than that. He
didn't only want Blythe's body, he wanted her very soul. It was only fair, since she
already owned his.
He clasped her shoulders with his hands and was once again reminded of just how
much smaller than him she was. She had such a vibrant personality, she seemed much
larger sometimes. But Cassidy was always aware of how fragile she was, and not just
physically. She'd been through some kind of trauma that centered
around
Jethro
Prince.
Cassidy didn't know exactly what had happened between the two of them, wasn't
sure he wanted to know. Just the thought of Blythe with another man was enough to
make him crazy, as illogical as that was. He knew she'd been with other men. At her