Until the Sun Falls from the Sky (16 page)

“Why?”

She grinned playfully. “I like your chest. It’s
way
better than your chuckle.”

After imparting this information on him, she wriggled her bottom in his lap.

As much as he was enjoying her, he was done.

He had her on her back in an instant, his torso covering hers, her legs still wrapped around his waist so his crotch was seated against the heat of her. His mouth at her throat, he slid his tongue along the length of her jugular, preparing her.

He did this carefully, savoring the taste of her but keeping a rigid hold on his control.

“It freaks me out when you do that,” she whispered and his head came up.

His hand slid down her side, around, over her ass, pulling her up as he pressed his groin to hers.

“Do what?” he asked.

“Move so fast.”

His mouth went to hers as he ground their hips together. When he did, without hesitation she reciprocated the movement and the effect was staggering.

“You’ll get used to it.” His voice betrayed his heightening arousal.

She opened her mouth but didn’t get a chance to speak because he kissed her.

He dispensed with the discovery he’d used to initiate their first kiss. His tongue swept inside her mouth and her reaction was delightfully immediate. Her body bucked upwards seeking something more even though his weight was pressing her into the bed. Her head tipped to the side giving him better access and her tongue tangled boldly with his. Her hands tugged his shirt from his trousers and he felt them travel up the skin of his back.

Her touch sent shockwaves tearing through his system and he growled into her mouth, deepening the kiss. She welcomed it, taking from him at the same time she gave and invited… no,
demanded
more.

He gave her what she wanted and contentedly absorbed her moan when he did.

He broke their connection and his mouth glided to her ear.

“I like the way you kiss me, pet,” he whispered there and he felt her head turn.

Her lips close to his neck, she breathed, no guard over the wonder in her words, “You’re so big, heavy, strong. You make me feel tiny. I’ve never felt tiny. Not in my whole life.”

He sensed this was important, something she’d always desired but never had and he was pleased he gave that to her. His mouth went back to her throat, gliding again along her skin. He was suddenly intent to give her something else, something she couldn’t imagine she’d long for but she would, he’d see to it.

“Your mouth is going to tingle, sweetheart,” he murmured against her skin before he used his tongue on her again.

Her neck arched, her limbs tightened, her nails curled into the flesh of his back.

“It already is,” she whispered. “Why is that?”

“I’ll explain later,” he replied quietly, his hand at her ass moving around her hip slowly as his mouth drifted up her neck, to her jaw, back to hers.

He caught her gaze as he lifted his hips away from hers and his fingers trailed along the waistband of her panties.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked softly.

Her eyes grew wide and her lips parted. Lucien loved it when she looked at him like that.

Especially now.

So much, he didn’t wait for her reply and his hand dipped into her underwear. He touched her, finding her sleek, hot and very, very wet.

She was ready and as if to prove this further, at his exploring touch, her neck arched in invitation. An invitation he gratefully accepted.

His lips went to her throat and his teeth tore through, her blood flowing into his mouth at the same time he slid a finger inside her.

She gasped and it wasn’t in pain. It was a sound of sheer pleasure and her hips bucked against his hand.

He withdrew his hand even though he knew she wanted it and he wanted her to have it.

Tonight, however, her lesson would be only about the feeding.

She whimpered when she lost his hand but he drew her blood into his mouth. He heard her second gasp, this one surprised, excited. Her hands coming out of his shirt and, just like that morning but with both of them this time, they came to his neck, up, and then her fingers fisted in his hair. Not to pull him back, to hold him to her.

Her body arched, pressing into his as he heard her heart race, her blood scoring through her system, her breath coming in wilder and wilder pants.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, her hands clenching tighter in his hair. “Oh my
God,
” she cried softly, trembling underneath him.

His arm wrapped around her low on her hips and he held her body tightly to the warmth of his. He stroked her wound with his tongue and reared up, taking her mouth with his and he kissed her hard.

She kissed him back, her hands still clutching his hair, her mouth greedy.

He broke the kiss and her eyes slowly opened, alluringly foggy with desire.

“Do you see why I like the taste of you?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

“Yes,” she whispered her admission, her voice a soft moan.

He buried his face in her throat again, reopening the wound and drinking deep.

“Lucien,” she whispered.

He sucked fiercely, thrilling at the sound of his name on her lips when her blood, just as delicious, surprisingly even more so with the vodka mingled with it, was pouring down his throat. This caused her to gasp yet again and writhe underneath him.

She was done, he knew it. He’d taken enough. Even though he wanted more, his mouth detached and he swept his tongue along the wound. The bleeding stopped instantly. The healing had already begun.

He pulled his body over her and rolled to his side, gathering her in his arms and taking her with him. He tucked her face in his throat, cautious with the still healing wound.

Her breathing was heavy as was her pulse and she whispered with a mixture of disappointment and marvel, “You’re done?”

He shook his head and tightened his arms, drawing her deeper into him.

“I’m not done, pet.
You’re
done.”

She wasn’t done. He knew it the way she moved restlessly against him.

It wasn’t the feeding she wanted, it was the climax he’d brought her so very close to and didn’t let her have.

Her head tilted back and he tipped his down to face her.

“You can’t be done,” she whispered and it was a soft demand.

“I’m done,” he declared.

“You’re not,” she returned, her voice getting stronger as were her movements, her hands sliding over his body, her own body pressing into his.

“Be still, Leah,” he commanded.

“No,” she refused.

“Leah.”

She pressed closer, her hands moving over his ass, pulling in as she returned, “Lucien.”

He reached behind him, wrapping his fingers around her wrists and pulling her arms around to the front. He rolled to his back, bringing her with him so she was on top, her arms cocked and caught between them. The deep red of her wound was blazing but the skin was closing.

Her eyes narrowed and she pressed her soft hips into his still hard ones, demanding, “You can’t seriously think we’re finished.”

“I know it.”

“You’re in a state!” she observed angrily.

“It’ll pass.”

“
I’m
in a state,” she informed him, her anger escalating at her need to point out her condition.

He left her hands trapped between them and he circled her with his arms, giving her a small shake before he held her tightly.

“Do you remember this morning?” he asked softly and her brows knitted over ever-narrowing eyes.

“How could I forget?” she snapped.

“This is your punishment.”

She pulled in a sharp breath as understanding dawned.

Then she said on a heavy exhale, “You’re joking.”

“You’ll go unfulfilled until you learn your lesson, pet.”

She blinked, hard and fast, her lips parting in shock and anger.

All vestiges of cute, hilarious, sweet, intoxicated Leah had vanished. Lucien uncharacteristically felt doubt about his decision to carry through with her punishment.

This was mainly because he liked cute, hilarious, sweet Leah and he wanted her back.

This was also because she wanted him. She made this abundantly clear without any evasion. Even if she hadn’t, he could smell it.

This was also because he wanted her. He wanted to bury himself inside her slick, wet core. He wanted to fuck her so hard he felt her body jolt under his with his thrusts. He wanted to listen to the noises she made, feel her sleekness clench around him, smell her sex in his nostrils and watch her face as she came.

He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a female, vampire or mortal.

Even Maggie.

And the power of his desire caused him to doubt the wisdom of carrying through with her punishment.

She tried to tear free of his arms but he moved swiftly.

He exited the bed, taking her with him, standing her on her feet. She swayed a moment then moved to flee but he caught her wrist in an unbreakable grip, ripping his shirt open at the same time, the buttons flying. He released her for less than a second, taking his shirt off. Then he tossed her back into bed and as she scrambled to get her limbs in order, he finished disrobing. Before she could escape, he had her on her side, her back to his front, tucked into the bend of his body, his arm holding her captive.

“Let me go,” she demanded, her breath straining, exposing her body’s inability to keep pace with his.

He settled behind her. “Leah, sleep.”

She struggled. “Let me
go
.”

He gave her a shake and repeated, “Sleep.”

She kept struggling and he contained it effortlessly. This went on for quite some time.

Suddenly she stilled.

He listened to her heavy breathing and felt her legs move, still wrestling with residual desire.

After some time, she settled.

He thought she’d conquered her body and finally fell asleep.

Instead, in a fierce, tortured whisper, she declared, “This morning, if you told me there was a way I could hate you more, I wouldn’t have believed it. But it’s true.”

Yes, he
seriously
doubted the wisdom of carrying through her punishment.

“Leah,” he murmured into her hair.

“I’ll
never
stop hating you,” she vowed, her voice scratching with her passionate assertion.

He pulled her closer and made his own vow. “Yes you will, my pet. I’ll find a way through.”

“Impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible.”

“We’ll see,” she said, her voice dripping with doubt at his words as well as conviction to her oath.

Ye
s, Lucien thought but didn’t speak aloud,
we’ll see.

* * * * *

Lucien woke before Leah.

His first act was to pull back her head gently to check her wound. Fully healed.

His next act was to lie beside her watching her sleep. Her face was relaxed and expressionless, not one of his preferred looks but appealing all the same.

After some time, her eyes fluttered open and, as she had the day before, her expressionless face became bewildered.

And, shortly after waking, as she had the day before, she tensed in preparation for flight.

He caught her close. Her head jerked back, her eyes narrowed and her mouth opened to protest.

He brought his down on hers, hard and demanding her response.

She withheld and began her vain struggles, as usual stubborn to an extreme.

So stubborn, this carried on for long enough that Lucien was forced to try a different tactic. Rolling her to her back and pinning her, his hands moved on her, down her sides, across her belly, up her midriff, all the while his tongue engaged in its sensual duel with hers.

Then his hand moved over her breast, cupping it gently before he snagged her nipple with his thumb.

Her body stopped bucking against his in protest and melted underneath him.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispered against her mouth at her capitulation and he took advantage, his finger met his thumb and he rolled her nipple between them.

A delicious noise slid from the back of her throat into his mouth. Her legs opened, one calf wrapping around his hip and he caught the scent of her excitement.

He smiled his triumph against her mouth and slanted his head for another kiss. She met his intent, her own head tipping to the side, her lips pressing against his, no longer resistant but hungry.

He fed her with his hands and his mouth and he kept doing it as she continued to demand it, insatiable, magnificent.

After a time, his hand was in her panties, finger pressed deep and swirling, her mouth against his, breaths sharp and sweet against his lips. She was so deep in her need she was unable to concentrate on kissing him or bear the further sensation of his tongue in her mouth. Her hand was clenched in his hair, her other arm wrapped tight around his back.