Dark Promises (Dark 25)

Fane smiled, his teeth very white and strong, the smile so tender she could barely breathe as he bent his head to brush a series of light kisses around her breast. Up over the swelling curve, down along the side, underneath and then up the other side. Worshiping her--claiming her--it felt just like that, and again she felt the burn of tears behind her eyes. No one had ever touched her like he did. No one had ever taken the time to bring her body to such life.

"I knew my lady would welcome me. Thank you, beloved. You cannot know how much your welcome means to me. I love that you have done as I asked, keeping your arms above your head. Thank you for that as well."

Clearly he knew how difficult it was for her to lie still under his heated gaze, giving her body to him when she had to struggle not to cover up. She was inexplicably pleased that he cared enough to notice.

His hand closed over her left breast and he pulled her right one deep into his mouth and suckled strongly. She cried out as fire streaked through her body, from her breast straight to her sex. Her channel rippled. Shuddered. She nearly had an orgasm just from his mouth.

So sensitive. So responsive. What man could ever expect such a gift?

He took his time, savoring the feast of her breasts. There was no other word for it. He savored while she gasped and clutched her fingers into the sheet above her head, through sheer will power, when she wanted to bury her fingers in his hair and hold him to her. Her body felt feverish. Empty. Desperate. His hands were everywhere, kneading her breasts, tugging at her nipple, sliding down to cup her mound possessively. He added his tongue and teeth until she began pleading with him.

"Fane. I have to touch you. I can't just lie here. It's too good."

He lifted his head. "Just another few minutes, han sivamak, let me have this for another few minutes."

She might die of a heart attack. Or heatstroke. Or another mini orgasm that came out of nowhere, but she would give him anything when he looked at her like that. Once again, because he seemed to need an answer, she nodded. He smiled again, so beautiful. So perfect. All hers. She would never, ever, forget that smile or the way he looked at her as if she was the only woman in the world. She would take that vision home, burned into her mind, and whenever she was alone, she would dream again. She would allow herself that. She would dream of him.

His mouth left her breasts and moved down her rib cage to her tummy. She squirmed a little, and it took a huge effort not to cover herself up. He had a twelve-pack, or maybe even a twenty-four-pack. Not a single ounce of fat. She was soft all over, especially her tummy. She was no young girl, but a woman . . .

Stop, Trixie. You are my lady.

Fane whispered the words into her mind. So intimate. She shivered at the intimacy, almost as intimate as when he was inside her body, maybe even more so. She loved that he called her his lady. Loved it.

My lady is beautiful and sexy. Everything about her is. I love your curves and your lush body. I love the way you feel against me. For me, you are perfect. I do not care about the rest of the world, nor will I ever care what their opinions or standards of beauty are. For me, you will always be the epitome of beauty in a woman.

Now the tears really did form. She couldn't stop them so she closed her eyes. There was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice. She heard truth from him. He really felt that way about her body. About her as a woman.

She felt his kiss like a brand on her belly button. A trail of kisses led down to her hip, first one, and then the other. He kissed her mound and the breath left her lungs. He smoothed his hands over first one thigh, and then the other, his mouth following. He pressed kisses to her legs and down to her feet. He lifted her legs and wrapped them around him as he moved up and into her, using his body to open her legs for him.

Her sex throbbed. Her channel pulsed. Hot blood rushed through her veins, calling to him. And then his mouth was there. Gentle. Not ravenous. Not crazy. Gentle. Light almost. Driving her crazy. He sipped at her as he might at the finest wine. He savored each drop of her honey. He used his tongue in a languid exploration of her body. An unhurried claiming. She thought she might go out of her mind.

Her body shuddered with anticipation at that first touch of his mouth, but then settled into a joyous, easy bliss. But he didn't pick up the pace. He didn't stop. He just kept on, using his mouth and fingers so that it became torturous, glorious but torturous. She began to think she might actually go crazy.

There was no keeping her hands where he wanted them. She had to touch him. Her body couldn't keep still. Her hips bucked against his mouth, ground deep, trying to reach that explosive end, but his tongue circled her clit, flicked hard so that she gasped, reached, and then it was gone.

She caught his hair in both fists to tug him closer. "Fane." She could only gasp his name. He really was driving her mad. He stabbed his tongue deep and used his thumb on her clit. She came close. So close. Then it was gone and he was sipping at her. Eating her as if she were a leisurely meal. Before she could settle into that, his teeth scraped and his mouth suckled and she screamed and begged.

"Fane. Please. I need you." Her voice said it all. Ragged pants. Gasps. She could barely plead with him, unable to find enough air.

The moment she said that, he was up and over her. Blanketing her with his weight. With his heat. He caught her legs on his arms, planted his hands on the mattress and surged into her. Not slowly. Not leisurely. Hard. Deep. Fast. Perfection. Exactly what she needed. The wave took her on that first stroke. She fragmented. Dissolved. All the while, he stared down into her face as if she were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He didn't stop moving, taking her while her body squeezed and strangled and pulsed, scorching hot around his cock. Already, the first orgasm was building into a second, not flowing easily, but building sharply. So hot. On fire. He leaned his weight into her, catching her bottom in his hands and urging her hips to meet his harder. Stronger. Deeper. Another wave took her. Shaking her. Consuming her.

She screamed his name, clutching his shoulders hard as he kept going, surging faster into her. Not stopping. Not allowing her to catch her breath. Already the third wave was building. Higher. Stronger. Coiling so tight she feared she might not hold herself together when it came.

She felt him swelling, impossible, but he stretched her even more. He had watched her through two orgasms, now he took her mouth. Hot. On fire. Then his face was buried in her neck and she felt his teeth bite down over her pulse. That erotic sting sent her careening over the edge, taking him with her. He thrust several times and then buried himself deep, staying still, his mouth still on her neck.

Her arms went around him and she held him to her. Strangely, she could hear their hearts beating in perfect mad synchronization. The drumbeats added to the perfection of their song. The musical notes exploded all around them, like silver and gold stars bursting in the air as their song crescendoed. It was beautiful. It was perfect. And she let the blinding tears track down her face. She had never known being with a man--the right man--could be so good.

15

Fane was a big man and his weight was entirely on her. Trixie found it a little difficult to breathe. Still, she didn't want him to move. She could feel him in her, his shaft pulsing, sending ripples spreading throughout her body. So good. So amazing. He swept his tongue over her pulse and pressed kisses into the junction of her neck before lifting his head. At once his gaze swept her face, noting the tears sparkling on her lashes and the fresh tracks on her face.

"Han sivamak."

Just that. In his voice. She knew what that meant now. Beloved. He called her beloved. She'd never had a man give her an affectionate or loving nickname. He'd given her two. She'd never had a man hold her as if he never wanted to let go or look at her with a mixture of tenderness and reprimand.

He bent his head and tasted her tears. Her body clutched his harder. His every movement sent more ripples throughout her body. She loved that they were still connected. She traced lazy patterns with her fin

gertips on his back.

"Tell me why you are crying."

She couldn't look away from the compelling blue of his eyes. "You're so beautiful, Fane. This is beautiful. I wish I could . . ." She broke off. "I have to go home. Back to my life there. It's a beautiful dream, but I don't think you could really live with someone like me, my attitude and my very strong opinions. I doubt I could live with a man. What you've given me is more than I've ever had in my life and . . ."

He kissed her. Instantly her thoughts scattered. She couldn't think with his mouth on hers and his body gently moving in and out of hers. So gentle. Soothing. And then he slid out and rolled off of her, but retained possession so that she was tucked close to his side, facing him. One knee slid between her thighs. One leg went over the top of hers to pin her there. His arm circled her waist.

Trixie looked up at him, afraid he might be upset. She was. She almost hoped he would be, but he looked down at her with something close to amusement.

"You are my lifemate. Your soul is bound to mine. We cannot be apart."

She frowned. He said it as if being lifemates was an everyday occurrence and she should know she couldn't be apart from him. She knew the idea of leaving him made her want to weep, but still, she had a life she had to get back to. At the same time, she couldn't make herself move. He held her close to him. So close, his hands smoothing over her body, rubbing and kneading, a gentle massage. Trixie had never thought, after all the years alone in a bed, she would like to snuggle--but she did--so much so that she stayed and listened when she should have run.

"You and Gabrielle both use the word lifemate as if I would know all it meant. She explained a little about you. That you can live in darkness until you find the right woman . . ."

He nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. His hand was smoothing the curve of her breast, his thumb sliding over her nipple, causing a shiver through her body and a distinct quiver in her feminine channel.

"There is only one woman or one man for a Carpathian, Trixie. We cannot make mistakes. The ritual words binding our souls together are imprinted on the male before he is born. Once those vows are spoken and the two are tied together, they cannot be apart for very long. Those ties enable them to speak telepathically on an intimate path."

Trixie took a breath and opened her mouth, but she had no idea what to say.