Silken Rapture (Princes of the Underground 2)

Her head fell back. She met his stare. The memory had come flooding back to her—every graphic, sensual detail—when he’d said the word silk. His hand opened over her jaw and he caressed her.

“You just now remembered it,” he more stated than asked.

“Yes,” she whispered, awed by the memories. “I should never forgive you for taking such a moment away from me, Blaise Sevliss.”

“If you do not forgive me, I will be unable to forgive myself.”

Even if he had not said the words, she would have forgiven him. She could not stand the anguish in his eyes. What right did she have to judge him, when he’d suffered so greatly for so long?

She placed her hands on his shoulders. When she pulled downward, he spread his hands over her bottom and lifted her. Isabel locked her legs around his waist and held him as tight as she could while they kissed, deep and hot, as if they’d never get enough of one another. When she licked at one of his extended incisors in a delicate, precise tease, he growled and swatted her bottom.

“No one has ever dared to do that to me before.” His low, ominous growl as he swept her toward his bedroom thrilled her.

Isabel laughed when he barged through the door and tossed her on the silken duvet on his large bed. He looked down at her, his teeth bared.

“No one has ever dared to tease the beast?” she whispered, a smile flickering around her lips. He looked so beautiful to her in that moment—his glossy black hair tousled and wild, his chest partially bared, a dangerous glint in his unique eyes, his arousal blatant. She flicked open her sash and drew off her robe. She sat up and removed her gown. When she sat before him wearing nothing but a smile, she met his stare.

“I dare,” she assured him, running her hand over the soft skin of her hips. She widened her thighs, beckoning him to her. “I dare to tempt the beast because I trust you, Blaise.”

His nostrils flared as he targeted her pussy with his gaze. “I don’t know if that’s wise.”

She dipped her forefinger into her creamy cleft. “Falling in love has nothing to do with wisdom,” she whispered.

He made a sound she thought she’d always remember, as if he were lost…as if he was found.

He slid his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her to him, his movements striking her as frantic and yet shockingly precise at once. His strength awed her.

A gasp tore out of her throat at the sensation of his mouth on her. Only her shoulders and head lay on the bed. He held her lower body at his mercy, her thighs in his hands spread wide for his ravishment. She watched him through narrowed slits as he feasted. His closed eyelids made him look so peaceful, as if he were in a zone of focu

s.

And he was, Isabel realized. He was creating magic. His tongue stabbed and agitated her clit then soothed it with firm, delicious strokes. He maintained an eye-crossing suction, not too hard, not too soft, consuming her juices even while he coaxed her to give him more. Her eyes opened wide a moment later when he scraped his incisors against her inner thigh. Pleasure rippled through her. Suddenly, his whole mouth was covering her outer sex and he was sucking gently while his tongue burrowed between her labia.

He opened his eyes and met her stare as he briskly waggled his tongue over her clit. The tingling burn ignited. She held on to his head as she screamed and exploded. Right at the peak of her climax, she felt him turn his head slightly, causing the top of his incisor to slide across her clit, carefully avoiding contact with the tip. It should have alarmed her, to have something so sharp near such sensitive tissue, but she trusted him.

She surrendered, giving herself to the rapture as her orgasm notched up to a higher level. She lost herself for a moment in bliss, knowing nothing but pleasure twining with the essence of her lover.

The next thing she knew she was facedown and Blaise’s hands were at her hips, sliding her across the fluid silk. She heard a sound like a hard object sliding across the floor and sensed Blaise moving behind her.

“Step on the stool. Your feet don’t reach the floor,” he said, his voice rough with arousal, but also warm with amusement. The sound of his zipper lowering sent an electric tingle through her satiated sex. She whipped her hair out of her face and pushed up with her hands.

“No. I want to hold you, Blaise,” she protested.

“It’ll be all right. I will hold you, lovely.” He set her feet upon what felt like a wooden stool. It ideally situated her bottom right at the edge of the bed, and she realized distantly he must have known this. The bed seemed made to match his proportions for making love when he stood next to it. He matter-of-factly spread her thighs wide. She moaned loudly at the sensation of his cock probing her entry.

She shook like a leaf in a storm as he worked his way into her, challenging, teasing and stroking her flesh the entire time.

When he was fully sheathed, he slid his hands beneath her body and pressed his chest to her back. He hugged her to him as he began to fuck her. She keened at the sublimity of the embrace. His cock stroked her as he cradled her, one hand holding a breast, the other clasping a shoulder. He moved her with the hand at her shoulder, sliding her along the slippery silk, and up and down on his cock.

He whispered to her roughly as she shuddered in bliss.

“You are the most beautiful thing in existence—a treasure. I wish more than anything I had the power to make you happy.”

“You do,” she moaned through fevered lips. “You have accomplished your goal.”

He scraped his teeth down the top of her spine and she shuddered. She heard his harsh moan as she held him at the core of her climax. She cried out, stunned, when she felt him press the tip of his finger into her anus. The caress amplified her orgasm. She writhed beneath him, caught in the grip of pleasure. His growl of arousal vibrated into her hot body.

“No,” she murmured in confusion when he slid out of her a moment later. She could tell he hadn’t yet climaxed, and she loved the sensation of being joined so closely to him.