Dark Celebration (39 page)

"Natalya, just what are you doing with that hairspray and lighter?" Vikirnoff Von Shrieder demanded. He peered out the kitchen window to the silent sparkling white world surrounding them. "There aren't any vampires around, are there?"

"Don't be silly. I've learned to call down the lightning when I'm fighting a vampire. I needed a flame thingie for the crème brûlée. See, it says so right here on the recipe." Natalya bent forward to reread the card she had on the low-tiled counter.

"Give it up. The silly recipe isn't worth the amount of time you have put into it." Vikirnoff came up behind her and circled her waist with his arms, drawing her back up against him.

"I thought you always wanted June Cleaver cooking in the kitchen with her little apron on," Natalya teased.

"It was you who mentioned June Cleaver, but I do like the apron," he admitted, kissing his way down the side of her face. His hands burrowed under the thin material stretching to cover her breasts. "If you wore this all the time, I might consider trying out one of these strange concoctions you seem to be attempting to whip up."

He nibbled on the back of her neck and let his hands slide down her flat stomach to the junction of her legs beneath the short apron. His palm caressed the short curls, and moved up to cover the birthmark in the shape of a dragon. The pads of his fingers traced the familiar shape, and then moved on around her hips to her firm bare buttocks. "
Ainaak enyém
, you do not have a single stitch on beneath this apron."

She leaned forward just a little more to peer at the recipe and frown at her concoction. The action brought her enticing derrière brushing the front of his body, sending a small electrical charge right through his groin. "I don't think anyone who cooks actually wears clothes. It's too messy. I changed three times and gave it up."

His hands continued their journey, shaping her hips and running over her bottom to slide over her thighs. He felt her shiver of awareness—of answering excitement. "So humans stand in the kitchen stark naked and cook." Once more his hands moved, widening her stance, caressing the inside of her thighs, going higher so his knuckles could brush back and forth across her sensitive core.

"I'm certain of it," Natalya said. "I've discovered their secret." She closed her eyes to absorb the feel of his hands on her bare skin.

His mouth nuzzled her neck, tongue stroking caresses over her pulse, teeth teasing and nipping. "I will ask Slavica's husband if that is why he spends so much time in the kitchen with her. I wondered what they did together in that big room with so many counters."

His teeth sank deep, locking them together, his larger body bending hers forward, pinning her against the low counter and his body. His clothes were gone and his body already hard and aggressive, his fingers pushing slowly, seductively into her body so that she gasped and pushed back against him, already wet and welcoming for him. Already hot. He loved her ready response and the way her body began to ride his hand eagerly.

His hands went to her hips, holding her still, preventing all movement, so she waited for his attentions, unable to bring any pleasure to herself.

"You started this," Natalya complained.

He didn't answer, savoring the spicy taste of her, the way her smaller body waited for his, open and ready, so vulnerable and so willing. It was a heady feeling to be able to take a woman warrior, to wrap his body around hers when she was every bit as lethal as she was beautiful. He held her down with one hand on her back, heightening her pleasure, forcing her to wait for him, breathless, her hips trying to entice him, her body wet and needy. He loved especially when she grew anxious and demanding, yet submitted to his domination—like now.

Vikirnoff swept his tongue across the pinpricks, waited again, waiting for the telltale beat of her heart to accelerate, and he thrust hard, driving deep into her, burying himself all the way. She cried out, a low keen of joy as they joined together. She was so tight, a fist clamping around his shaft, hot and velvet soft, slick with welcoming cream. He took her hard and fast, driving her over the edge without preamble so that her body clamped down and her orgasm rushed over her, rocking her legs, rippling through her belly and crashing through her womb.

He kept the pounding rhythm, moving like a piston, dragging her back with every forward surge so they came together in heat and aggression. He could feel the streaks of lightning racing through her bloodstream, gathering—building, always building, the pressure relentless so that after the first rush to bring more sensitivity to the bundle of nerve endings, he kept her poised on the edge, pushing her higher and higher until she was nearly sobbing for relief.

Vikirnoff could stay there all day, his body buried deep in silk and fire, her tight muscles squeezing and grasping, her body subject to the rule of his. Her hair spilled around her, banded with color, her skin soft and inviting and every square inch of her, every hollow and shadow, his to do with as he pleased.

Right now he felt her tigress close, clawing toward the
surface
, wild and abandoned, adding fuel to the fire, wanting him rough, wanting him to match the cat rising with heat in her. He threw back his head, nearly coming up on his toes, surging deep over and over, so that the friction was nearly intolerable, a pleasure bordering on pain that went on and on because he dictated it so. Because her body was his body when they came together like this. She gave herself to him unconditionally, trusting him to bring her absolute ecstasy, and it was his privilege to accommodate her. Because they needed this sometimes more than anything else, this coming together almost in violence after they had both been alone for so very long.

He murmured softly to her in his own language. "
Te avio päläfertülam. Ainaak sívamet jutta
." You are my lifemate. Forever to my heart connected—forever mine.

She answered with one of the few words of the ancient language she knew, her heart in her voice. "
Sívamet."
 My love. And she meant it.

Vikirnoff plunged into her until her breath was coming in gasping sobs and his body burned with a kind of fury, until their hunger for each other was so sharp and terrible there was no holding back. Her body tightened around his, clamping down with hard spasms that sent fire racing down his spine straight to his balls. His entire body shuddered as he thrust one more time, hard steel penetrating hot silk, as he emptied himself into her deepest core, further uniting them.

He lay over her, holding her close, kissing her back, nuzzling her neck, all the while trying to struggle for air. Their hearts beat the same rhythm, but the gnawing hunger, so insatiable, was still there. He could feel it in her, stirring and clawing like the greedy cat inside her, and also deep in him, where his demon roared for its mate.

Very slowly, very reluctantly, he separated their bodies and allowed her to straighten up. He crowded close, not giving her space, establishing his intentions with his wandering mouth and hands.

"I always knew you liked the June Cleaver thing. You have a secret food fetish," she told him with a small smile.

"I will admit to a fetish, but I think it's for you." He bent his dark head as he dragged her even closer, forcing her to bend backward so she offered her breasts to him. He lapped at the sensitized nipples, drew her breast into his mouth, sucking with strong pulls, teeth teasing, causing aftershocks to ripple through her body. "
Ainaak enyém
, forever mine," he whispered. "You know you are my heart and soul. My very life."

Natalya loved the way his hair brushed over her skin, the way his mouth was so eager for her. She could lose herself in his body all night, never think of anything—or anyone else. He looked at her and wanted her. One brush of her hand set him on fire. Once he had taken her right in the village, shielding them from prying eyes, but it felt so decadent. She had deliberately tempted him, allowing her fingers to trail over the front of his trousers, rubbing against him, her blouse gaping open to show her breasts—and he had responded in just the way she loved. He shoved her against a wall and took her right there, unable to wait one more second. She loved teasing him, seeing the heat building in his eyes and that stern mask disappear only for her.

He always told her how much he loved her—how much she meant to him. She found it difficult to put her emotions into words, afraid if she tried to voice the depth of her emotion, that would somehow take it away from her. She had never loved the way she loved him. She hadn't even known it was possible.

Vikirnoff reluctantly released her breasts, skimming her mouth with feather-light kisses before straightening. "Did you hear something?"

"Someone is in the woods near our house." She wrapped her arm around his head and drew him back down, her mouth melting provocatively with his. Heat flared instantly. Her tongue dueled with his, teasing and stroking while her hands slid over his body. Her fingers danced over the hard length of him, satisfaction making her purr as he grew thicker and harder. She wrapped her hand around him and bent down to breathe warm air over him.

His shaft jumped. She licked him much like a cat licking cream. The moist heat of her mouth engulfed him, spreading fire through his belly. He forgot visitors and caught two fistfuls of tawny hair, dragging her closer as he thrust with his hips, surging deep into her mouth. She went to her knees, wrapping her arms around his hips and taking him down her throat, squeezing and nibbling and licking until he thought he might go insane from sheer pleasure.

Natalya never did anything halfway, abandoning herself to the joy of serving him, of taking all power through her joy of sex. She loved touching him and tasting him and drawing out every drop of his seed just to see how fast she could bring him back to a fever pitch.

She made a small little purring noise deep in her throat that sent a vibration right through his shaft, and spread out to his entire body. His balls drew tight and hard, and every nerve in his body seemed centered in his groin. Lust was sharp and hungry and raking at his insides as he watched her lips slide over his shaft and he felt the white hot curl of her tongue, the heart-stopping edge of her teeth.

"Harder," he bit out through clenched teeth. She was close to swallowing him, doing something fantastic with her tongue and throat muscles.

She looked up at him and there was so much joy in her eyes. For him. For her ability to give him this gift. If it was possible, she tightened her throat and flicked with her tongue, pushing him over edge just as fast and hard as he had pushed her. Fire streaked through his bloodstream, tore though his body. She milked him with her tight hot mouth, with his fists twisted almost violently in her hair holding her still while he thrust helplessly, going as deep as he could. His body shattered, from his toes to his head, burst into flames as jet after jet of seed was drawn from him.

Woman, you are killing me
. And it felt like it, a beautiful death. He dragged her to her feet, not relinquishing his hold on her hair, his mouth finding her breasts, feeling her heightened desire. He flicked her nipples, felt the ripple of response rush through her body. He bit down gently, felt her jump, her womb clench and spasm.

"I love doing that to you," she whispered. "It always makes me so hot to see you like that, and you always give me what I want. And I want more, Vikirnoff. I want much, much more."

"I am always ready to accommodate you."

Natalya wrapped one bare leg around him, rubbing against his thigh. "Keeping me happy is a full-time job."

He reached down and lifted her with casual strength, turning her so he could rest her bare bottom on the counter. "You have nowhere to run,
sívamet
."

Secretly, it was one of her favorite things when he spoke his ancient language and called her his love. His accent was sexy and intriguing and his words seemed a secret world no one else could share. "Was I running? Being in the kitchen, surrounded by all this food, I was hoping you'd be hungry."

Vikirnoff laughed softly, his eyes going midnight dark. "I am always hungry for you." He simply pushed her thighs wide, lifting her legs over his shoulder, and bent his head to the sweet scent of her hot core. He licked her in much the same manner as she had him, a cat lapping at cream. He knew every spot intimately, every secret hollow and what it could do to her. He made slow lazy circles around her sensitive bud, torturing her until she wanted to scream with pleasure. Her thighs jumped helplessly, hips arching toward him, as his fingers slipped into her heated channel adding to the pressure so his tongue could lap at her, suckle and stab with wicked expertise.

He did just what she asked for, but in a manner she could never conceive of. He ate her—devoured her, using his tongue as effectively as he used his shaft. His fingers only added to her slow torment, pushing her far beyond her limits into another realm.

Natalya bucked against his mouth, her body raging for release as he worked his magic. Her head thrashed wildly back and forth. Her body built up pressure fast, needing release, the tension winding tighter and tighter until she thought she might implode. Vikirnoff always held her off, pushing her further than she thought she could ever go, until she was pleading with him, sobbing, almost insane with arousal.

A sensation somewhere between pleasure and bordering on pain gripped her stomach fiercely, tightening her womb, and spread through her body. Her breath slammed out of her lungs and she swore her insides nearly convulsed. She shuddered as the spasms continued and wave after wave of sheer ecstasy washed over her.

Before she had a chance to catch her breath, Vikirnoff brought her hips down, holding her legs apart, and slammed deep into her slick hot folds. She screamed. There was no stopping the cries of pleasure as her body orgasmed again and again.

He pressed down against her small bud, as he slammed deeper and deeper, needing to hear those soft cries, to see her throat working convulsively and feel her body rippling with so much pleasure. He thrust hard, building the friction until her face was flushed and her mouth was open and her eyes wide with shock and lust. Only then did he take her over the edge a second time.