Kiss of Vengeance (True Immortality 2)

Poof.

Gone.

A bubble of giddy laughter left her lips as she locked eyes with him.

Amusement colored his words. “I hope you let me do the rest.”

“No promises,” she whispered.

“Then I best get on with it.” Fionn released his hold on her hands, his gaze caressing her face.

Rose’s lower belly did another flip at the hungry promise in his eyes.

Fionn slipped his fingers under the straps of her bra, and then stopped when his eyes caught on the scar on her chest. Rose wasn’t bothered by the scar. She wore it as a badge of honor. The look on Fionn’s face, the intensification of his desire, told her he liked what the scar symbolized too. Bending toward her, he pressed a sweet, warm kiss to the scar that brought tears to her eyes.

Raisi

ng his head they shared a look that made her lips part with need and she arched her back slightly with impatience. With a deliberate slowness that escalated her arousal beyond bearing, he lowered the straps of her bra, tugging on them until she was completely exposed. Her nipples drew even tighter into hard little points that begged for attention. Fionn made a guttural sound in his throat as he cupped her breasts in his large hands. He looked up at her, watching her as he gave them a gentle squeeze, his lips parting as she moaned and arched into him.

“Fuck, Rose.” He kneaded her, thumbs strumming her nipples, as he flexed his hips against her.

The hard press of him, digging into her, almost made her eyes roll back in her head. She wanted the impressive arousal she could feel against her belly thrusting inside her instead.

However, Fionn seemed determined to savor her. His head descended, and she cried out at the provocative stimulation of his mouth sucking on her nipple. Rose reached for him, curling her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. She moaned, her head falling back against the books as he licked and sucked before moving on to her other breast.

Her senses were overwhelmed, the lights flickering in the room as the tension deep in her belly tightened and tightened with his attention. His scent, his heat, his power, and the promise of all that inside her … Rose was surrounded by him. Already invaded.

Yet it wasn’t enough.

She wanted to conquer and be conquered.

Rose writhed against him, and Fionn groaned against her breast, the sound reverberating through her deliciously. He didn’t feel like an all-powerful being in that moment. He was flesh and blood and need and lust and want.

He was just a man who hungered for a woman.

For her.

Fionn ground his body deeper into hers and lifted his head to kiss her again. This kiss was hunger. Desperation. A mimic of what was to come. Her fingers curled in the hair at the back of his neck as she licked and sucked and flicked her tongue against his, her kiss as deep as she wanted him to be inside her, not just physically.

Rose slipped her hand under his sweater and traced his hard, ripped stomach before pushing her fingers down inside his jeans.

He broke the kiss on a hiss, thrusting into her hand as she tried to curl it around his erection straining against the confinement of his jeans.

Finding that difficult, Rose set to work on unzipping him, moving to slip her hands past the waistline of his black boxer briefs.

Fionn made a sexy growl as he took hold of her wrist and pinned it at her side. He gave her a slight shake of his head. “Me first.”

He demonstrated his meaning by using his free hand to unzip her jeans, his fingertips tickling her belly as he slowly dipped his fingers beneath her underwear. “Keep your eyes open and on me,” he demanded.

The gold in his eyes mingled with the green, but as his touch found her wet and she whimpered, lashes fluttering, Fionn’s eyes glowed a solid gold.

He groaned as he pleasured her, his breathing escalating along with Rose’s as he watched her thrust against his hand. Her fingers bit into his forearm and waist while she clung to him through the building tension. Her body was on fire, the pleasure causing her lashes to flutter closed with her mounting gasps for completion.

“Look at me,” he demanded again, his lips almost brushing hers.

Rose’s eyes flew open and locked with his as a climax rolled through her in obliterating pleasure.

She was still clinging to the orgasm when Fionn crushed his mouth over hers. Magic tingled the air, and she felt the telltale breeze between her legs and across her skin. Her jeans were gone.

His skin was naked beneath her touch.

Rose opened her eyes and saw he wasn’t wearing a sweater. And she knew if she looked lower, she’d find him naked there too.

Rose chuckled into his mouth. In answer, Fionn grabbed hold of her naked hips and hauled her up the wall. Her stomach flipped, like on a roller coaster in a steep dip, and she gasped. She had presence of mind, however, to wrap her legs around him.

An explosion of sensation had her gripping his nape, pulling back from his deep kiss to pant against his mouth as she felt him hot and nudging at her center. She saw the final question in his eyes and loved him for it.

Rose nodded.

Fionn thrust into her, and too many sensations hit her all at once. The hard slam of her back against the bookshelves, his bruising grip on her hips, and ultimately the powerful, scorching thickness of him buried inside her slick heat.

He was perfect.

Heaven inside her.

The bliss was too much.

Lights blew out around the room, but nothing could diminish the heat between them.

“Oh, mo chroí.” Fionn braced her against the wall, his hands holding tight to her hips as he drove in and out in smooth undulations. His expression was taut with need, his teeth bared as he seemed to strain to stop himself from fucking her savagely. This only made Rose hotter, her fingernails biting into his forearms as he took her against the wall.

The climax to end all climaxes captured Rose in its visceral, primal spell. She was barely aware of Fionn falling against her, burying his face in her throat until his drives inside her grew wild. She clung to him, palms flat to his lower back as he chased his pleasure through the hot pulses of Rose’s own.

Fionn tensed, his hot mouth on her neck, and then his hips juddered hard against her as he swelled, his release throbbing and potent and causing another wave of reaction inside her.

“Rose …” Her name was a deep groan against her skin as Fionn melted into her.

His hands caressed down her hips to her outer thighs, and he ground into her as if he needed more. “Fuck, Rose.” He lifted his head, face slackened with awe and, if she was not mistaken, shock.

Rose fought to catch her breath. “Is it always like that?”

Fionn shook his head, a little dazed. “It …” He glanced down at where their bodies joined and thrust again, hissing through his teeth. “Ah, fuck, Rose, it’s the mating. It’s heaven.” He kissed her, hard, deep, still needful. When he came up for air again, his voice was hoarse. “It’s heaven inside you.”

Squeezing her arms and legs around him as tight as possible, Rose could only agree. Nothing had ever felt like this. It was an otherworldly bliss she could quickly become addicted to. She smiled, giddy. “Can we do it again?”

Fionn didn’t smile. Instead, he bent his head toward her mouth and growled, “Fuck. Yes.”

31

Sex had always been just a need for satisfaction. Even when Fionn loved Aoibhinn, their coupling had been a passionate, quick, albeit love-filled, encounter before sleep. There was no time in their world to savor each other through the night, for sleep was a more important fuel in times of constant war.

Aine savored him, yes, but Fionn was so emotionally detached from their interludes, it didn’t count.

Other women had given themselves to Fionn over the last three centuries—human, werewolf, and even vampire. That was fucking. Quick, satisfying, to the point. Even with mistresses like Alice.

It was wonderfully strange and new, then, for Fionn to discover the euphoria of an entire day and night spent in bed with a woman. And not just any woman.

With Rose.

She slept in his arms, cheek pressed to his chest, her small, elegantly strong body sprawled across him. The woman was an addiction. Fionn suddenly understood the thrill of the mating bond. It wasn’t just a deep abiding affection or the feeling that some piece he’d been missing his entire existence had finally slotted into place.

It was extraordinary sex.

The fae weren’t just all about finding their mate because of the emotional connection—they wanted this drugging, blissful, otherworldly physical bond.

Fionn couldn’t get enough of Rose. He’d conjured food from the kitchen in between sessions, but his woman was absolutely wrung out with multiple orgasms by the time she collapsed against his pillows and murmured s

he needed rest.

Unbelievably, blood pumped hotly in his groin as Fionn caressed her rounded, pert arse. Surely the lusting would fade a little over time.

He hoped.

There were things to be done.

Plans to be executed.

Eternity could not be spent rolling around in his big bed with his small, luscious fae mate.

“Fuck,” he muttered, gazing at the stone ceiling above. Actually, that sounded pretty grand to him.

Aine. Revenge. Remember that?

Looking down at Rose’s sleeping face, he felt a knifelike discomfort in his throat. It all meant leaving her to fend for herself, and although he knew Rose was quite capable of looking after herself, it hurt to think of her alone. Of something happening to her when he should have been by her side. Even before she fell asleep, she’d whispered her promise to try not to dream-walk him, and he’d heard the hint of anxiety in her tone.

It wasn’t a talent Fionn was familiar with, but there had to be ways to help her control the ability—and he should be the one to help her do it.

His mobile phone buzzed from somewhere in the castle. Fionn uttered an inward curse hoping Rose wouldn’t wake. It wasn’t loud but with their fae ears, they could hear more than humans. He conjured the phone into his hand and answered. “Bran?”

“Aye, it’s me. Why are you whispering?”

The gods, the vampire’s voice sounded loud down the line. “Give me a second.” Fionn gently slid Rose off him, his lips twitching as she flopped against the pillow, dead to the world. While eight hours of sex with a gymnast turned fae had only invigorated Fionn, his mate desperately needed rest.

Slipping out of bed, he strode out of the bedroom, heading toward the library where he’d left his clothes so he didn’t wake her. He could conjure his jeans like he’d done to take them off, but Fionn tried not to get lazy with the magic.

Disappearing into the library, he immediately regretted choosing it as a destination. As he pulled on his jeans, memories of fucking Rose against the bookshelves were fresh and vivid.