The Vampire Narcise (Regency Draculia 3)

His lips moved over the soft, delicate skin of her torso's edge, sipping and gently sucking at the new wounds there. Her belly shivered and trembled, and when his fingers found her swollen quim, slick and full, she closed her eyes and breathed long and deep. The pleasure and need rose again immediately at his touch, and she could picture his long, elegant fingers as they explored, stroking her back to a new peak.

"Yes," she murmured, arching into his hand, but he pulled back, teasing his fingers along the inside of her thigh, then up and away to look down at her. She was aware of his weight bearing down on her, solid and comfortable, one solid leg between hers, the other alongside the outside of her thigh.

"Kiss me," he said, his hands now covering her shoulders through the flimsy lace. "Narcise." His eyes bored into her, penetrating the haze of her pleasure, and she recognized the need, a vulnerability there-not so very different from what hers had been.

A rush of warmth, of certainty and desire, spread through her.

She cupped his warm face, sliding her hands along his jaw, felt the faint tremors deep beneath her fingers, the beginning of stubble on the very bottom of his chin. Her thumbs crept up along the sides of his face, her fingertips in the thick curls around his neck.

His gaze never wavered, dark and heavy on her, drilling deep into her soul. Deep into her damaged, warped, damned soul. Her heart shifted, shuddered and broke open.

He'd given her back so much: herself, her freedom, her body.

When she pulled, guiding him down, he lowered his face to hers. He murmured her name against her mouth, then their lips met gently, fusing together without hurry.

Giordan sank onto her, gathering her close as he shifted to go deeper, delved into her with soft lips and sleek tongue, still scented and flavored with the essence of her own lifeblood. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, such relief and emotion swelling strong inside her, bursting to come out from this unfamiliar intimacy.

The kiss turned from a sweet proclamation of tenderness, then to something fierce and hungry. Their tongues clashed and stroked, delved deep and furious, their lips catching on fangs and scraping tender skin. Little surges of blood mingled with the kiss, mixing with their breath, tasting sweet and thick as their bodies slid and bumped against each other. His fingers moved between them, pulling at the buttons of his breeches, the back of his hand sliding teasingly against her swollen center.

Narcise helped him, blind but efficient, and heard the soft scatter of the buttons as they flung beyond the rug to the floor. Quick and furious now, her skirt was flipped up and aside, his breeches and drawers yanked away until the heat of him lay against her thigh.

"Giordan," she pleaded, spreading herself up and against him freely, wantonly, and she heard his great gust of relief as he found the hot, sleek place between her legs.

They both gasped when he filled her with one sharp movement, and then there was no longer time for play. He seemed to have run out of patience and teasing, for no sooner had he slid deep than he was moving again, harder and faster, bending forward to nip at her mouth, to slick up another taste of her as her hips moved to meet his rhythm.

The rug burned into her bu**ocks and Narcise felt her hair caught beneath her shoulders, but that discomfort was lost in the hot, driving pleasure that she suddenly reached in an explosion of pleasure, grasping it just before he did. He made a low noise, strangled and deep, and thrust deep and hard one last time, then buried his face in her hair and collapsed into her arms.

Narcise closed her eyes, her body still shuddering pleasantly, rippling from her center out to each finger and toe, remembering what it was like to feel happy, and complete after this...and not dark and damaged and used.

His lips moved against her neck, saying something she couldn't hear, but the gentle movement sent delicious little shivers along her shoulder and she smoothed her hands all along his back.

The curling, rootlike ridges of the Devil's Mark bumped beneath her fingertips on one side, and she felt the faint pulsing therein. She wondered if he'd done something to anger Lucifer, or if his Mark was always full and throbbing like that.

Hers rose and fell depending upon her mood and that of the demon who'd put it there, and right now, now that she was sated with pleasure, it was hardly a twinge over her shoulder blade.

Giordan-he was no longer merely Cale to her-shifted and pulled away, his hands sleek and smooth as they moved down over her throat and shoulders. "I hope you don't mind my saying that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever known," he said. "But you're also the strongest. Here." He rested his fingers over her heart. His eyes burned dark and steady as he looked down at her, his lips, those perfect ones that she'd learned so well from her sketching, were full and glistened a bit.

She shifted and he eased back farther, helping her to sit up.

"Narcise," he began, covering her with his eyes, determination in his jaw.

She knew what he was going to say, and she stopped him with a finger over his lips. "Don't ask me to stay. I can't-"

"I wasn't going to," he said, easing away from her fingers. A note of annoyance colored his tone. "I was going to say, I think it's important to keep this from your brother."

"Why-and how? He ordered me to seduce you-he'll smell you all over me," she began, confused and yet relieved that he wasn't going to try to convince her to stay.

Giordan was nodding. "I know. But why? To see if it would work? To see if we have an attachment?" He frowned and Narcise was surprised when a wave of affection swept her at the sight of the furrow between his brows. She wanted to touch it. She wanted to touch him again, everywhere, in fact...to lie next to him in a soft, luxurious bed, naked and sated, and to hear him talk. He must have noticed the heat in her eyes, for he paused and, eyes narrowing with desire, he bent forward to kiss her.

Another sweet brushing of lips, but then she slipped her tongue out and there was still the essence of blood on him, and the kiss became deeper and more thorough. She curved an arm around him, sliding it along the curve of his bicep as a tingle began to grow inside her again.

When he pulled away, it was with obvious reluctance. His brown-blue eyes, ringed with black, now glowed with fire again. But then he blinked and it eased into seriousness. "I don't trust anything about him, or anything he does," Giordan continued. "But it seems as if he is trying to push us together. And if he wants that, then there's a reason to benefit him. I think it would be best if you went back alone, and I'll be along shortly. He'll know you did what he bid, but he doesn't need to know that we...well, that it was like this."