Dearest Ivie (Black Dagger Brotherhood 15.50)

“Shut up and get into me.”

He didn’t require any more urging than that. With a tremendous hiss, he bared his canines and bit her neck hard, the pain lancing through her body and translating into pure pleasure by the time it reached her core.

“Oh, Silas,” she groaned as she craned her back to give him more room.

With eyes that were half open, she looked past his shoulder to the ceiling above, her focal point shifting up and down as he took deep swallows while riding her with his sex through their clothes. Too many layers between them, too many damn pants—but there was no stopping the sucking. He was so hungry, so possessive, that the pulls against her vein brought her to the edge of orgasm, the not-quite almost more pleasurable than the release itself.

He still had his coat on, and that fine wool was all texture against her hyper-sensitive nipples, the hard ridge at his hips pushing into her core and then retreating until she was going to lose her mind, his scent a roar in her nose.

“I need you,” she barked. “I need you in me—now.”

Somehow he heard her, or maybe he had reached the same desperation she had—either way, he retracted his hips and moved one of his hands between them, yanking at the tie on the waistband of her scrubs as she helped by pulling them down and kicking them free along with her panties.

And then he was jerking at the fine leather belt he wore. She took over, pushing his hand out of the way as she freed the buckle, the button, the zipper.

The length of him was hard and hot and long in her hands.

And the sound he made turned her body into a tuning fork, the bass vibrating through her.

She was too impatient for the feel of him inside of her to do much exploring, and as soon as his head was at the heart of her, she pushed her pelvis forward so he sank in deep.

Her orgasm came on fast and hard, the culmination not just of what they were doing now, but of the kissing the night before, and all the fantasies she’d had…hell, it went all the way back to that moment right before they had locked eyes, when she had sensed nothing was ever going to be the same again.

In the midst of the rhythmic pulses, she felt a hard hand grip behind her knee and pull up, her sex opening further. And then he was moving in her, pumping with thrusts that sent the top of her head into the armrest, a creaking noise rising up from the sofa’s supports, the banging sound probably the windowsill taking a beating. Or maybe the wall. Who cared.

Gone was the aristocrat with the nice manners and the polite words, the arching accent and the expensive clothes. Silas was utterly dominant as he took everything she had and demanded more, his pace rough and powerful, a male’s lust unleashed without restraint.

And she just wanted more.

As if he read her mind, he hooked his forearm where his palm had been, cranking her even tighter under his heavy weight, his hips pounding into her, the lower half of his body swinging freely—

Until he locked against her with a punch of his thighs, his erection emptying into her as he continued to suck at her throat.

All she could do was hang on to his shoulders.

And pray he never, ever stopped.

Sure it would kill her, but what a way to go.

* * *

—

The feel of Silas’s tongue lapping at the puncture wounds he’d made in her neck was erotic as hell—not that there was a damn thing either of them could do to follow through on that. He was collapsed on top of her, his sex still buried inside her core, his body a wonderfully limp blanket. Beneath him, she was floating on a blissful satiation even as she was grounded by his weight.

“I hate that I have to leave,” he said into her hair. “I’d rather stay here.”

“Me, too.” She stroked his back. “But we have tomorrow night to look forward to.”

He lifted his head. “Amen to that. What time do you want me to pick you up?”

“It might be easier with the snow to dematerialize? Plus now that you have my blood in you, you can track me.”

“I’d love to drive, if you don’t mind? I have a Range Rover that will go through an avalanche.”

“Plus more time together.” She smiled up at him. “Not a bad thing.”

“Big back seat, too. You know, if on the ride home I’m unable to contain myself.”

“Please don’t fight the feeling.”

He played with a strand of her hair, wrapping it in and around his fingers. “You can just introduce me as your friend.”

“Is that what you’d like me to do?”

“I just don’t want you to get pressured.”

“I think I’ll stick to Silas, how about that?”

“What’s the dress code?”

“A band shirt from the eighties, ripped blue jeans, and three nights of beard growth for the males. Females will be in a combination of Forever 21, handmade gingham housecoats, and Macy’s separates if they’re fancy. Food will be Cheez Whiz, hot dishes, and bags of such exotic fare as sour-cream-and-onion potato chips, Fritos, and Pringles.”

He smiled. “I’ve had Fritos before.”

“With clam dip?”

“Huh?”

“My mother’s clam dip is amazing with them.”

“I’m really looking forward to this.”

“And listen, if you want to leave at any time, you’re free to go. I can always get myself home. As my dad always says, taking care of myself is my one job.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.”

For a moment, Ivie fell quiet as she wondered how in the hell that was going to go. But then she recalibrated things with the reality that it was not a war zone they were going into. It would be loud and packed and raucous, and her dad was going to be a little protective, but no one was going to lose a limb.

Hopefully.

“I’ll stay for however long they’ll have me.”

She frowned as she looked into those pale eyes of his. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Coming with me.”

“If I could, I would go lots of places with you.” His smile was slow. “Many, many places.”

“You know, I could come to visit you. We could travel or—” As he glanced away, she sighed. “Or not. It’s okay. Hey, we’ll enjoy what we have.”

“Yes. Yes, we will.”

When he refocused on her, he brushed his mouth to her lips and whispered in the Old Language, “Thank you for the gift of your vein. I am honored and grateful.”

His diction was beautiful, with the aristocracy’s drawling vowels and rhythmic consonants.

“It was my pleasure. Trust me.”

He kissed her a little more and then he was easing up off of her, his belt digging into her side, his retreat from her sex a cold vacancy. With an elegant move, he pulled the throw blanket off the back of the sofa and spread it over her.

Silas didn’t immediately get to his feet and hit the door. He just sat there, stroking her leg, looking like the last thing he wanted to do was get in a cold car and drive himself across town to wherever he lived.

“We’ve done Italian and English,” he murmured.

“Tomorrow night, we do Hannaford.”

He chuckled. “I was not aware that was a country.”

“It is. It’s small, but very orderly, and relatively inexpensive to visit as long as you have your Hannaford card with you.”

“After that…I want to take you to a French restaurant. And then a Greek one. A Russian one. We have to do Korean, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Japanese. Mmm…I like that smile on your face.”

As he kissed her quick, she murmured, “And I like the idea of having many places to go with you.”

It was a panacea to the reality that they were running out of time.

Chapter Seven

“It’s up there.” Ivie leaned into the dashboard. “See the hill?”

The windshield wipers swept left, and through the falling snow, the lights of her parents’ little house seemed like a spaceship coming down for a landing, hovering above the snow-covered rise.

“I certainly do.” Silas smiled. “Good thing we took the Range Rover.”

In the back of her mind, Ivie thought it was bizarre that she was dating someone who had a choice between this tank-like, blacked-out SUV and a Bentley. Then again, she never would have expected to be with someone as good-looking as he was. o;Shut up and get into me.”

He didn’t require any more urging than that. With a tremendous hiss, he bared his canines and bit her neck hard, the pain lancing through her body and translating into pure pleasure by the time it reached her core.

“Oh, Silas,” she groaned as she craned her back to give him more room.

With eyes that were half open, she looked past his shoulder to the ceiling above, her focal point shifting up and down as he took deep swallows while riding her with his sex through their clothes. Too many layers between them, too many damn pants—but there was no stopping the sucking. He was so hungry, so possessive, that the pulls against her vein brought her to the edge of orgasm, the not-quite almost more pleasurable than the release itself.

He still had his coat on, and that fine wool was all texture against her hyper-sensitive nipples, the hard ridge at his hips pushing into her core and then retreating until she was going to lose her mind, his scent a roar in her nose.

“I need you,” she barked. “I need you in me—now.”

Somehow he heard her, or maybe he had reached the same desperation she had—either way, he retracted his hips and moved one of his hands between them, yanking at the tie on the waistband of her scrubs as she helped by pulling them down and kicking them free along with her panties.

And then he was jerking at the fine leather belt he wore. She took over, pushing his hand out of the way as she freed the buckle, the button, the zipper.

The length of him was hard and hot and long in her hands.

And the sound he made turned her body into a tuning fork, the bass vibrating through her.

She was too impatient for the feel of him inside of her to do much exploring, and as soon as his head was at the heart of her, she pushed her pelvis forward so he sank in deep.

Her orgasm came on fast and hard, the culmination not just of what they were doing now, but of the kissing the night before, and all the fantasies she’d had…hell, it went all the way back to that moment right before they had locked eyes, when she had sensed nothing was ever going to be the same again.

In the midst of the rhythmic pulses, she felt a hard hand grip behind her knee and pull up, her sex opening further. And then he was moving in her, pumping with thrusts that sent the top of her head into the armrest, a creaking noise rising up from the sofa’s supports, the banging sound probably the windowsill taking a beating. Or maybe the wall. Who cared.

Gone was the aristocrat with the nice manners and the polite words, the arching accent and the expensive clothes. Silas was utterly dominant as he took everything she had and demanded more, his pace rough and powerful, a male’s lust unleashed without restraint.

And she just wanted more.

As if he read her mind, he hooked his forearm where his palm had been, cranking her even tighter under his heavy weight, his hips pounding into her, the lower half of his body swinging freely—

Until he locked against her with a punch of his thighs, his erection emptying into her as he continued to suck at her throat.

All she could do was hang on to his shoulders.

And pray he never, ever stopped.

Sure it would kill her, but what a way to go.

* * *

—

The feel of Silas’s tongue lapping at the puncture wounds he’d made in her neck was erotic as hell—not that there was a damn thing either of them could do to follow through on that. He was collapsed on top of her, his sex still buried inside her core, his body a wonderfully limp blanket. Beneath him, she was floating on a blissful satiation even as she was grounded by his weight.

“I hate that I have to leave,” he said into her hair. “I’d rather stay here.”

“Me, too.” She stroked his back. “But we have tomorrow night to look forward to.”

He lifted his head. “Amen to that. What time do you want me to pick you up?”

“It might be easier with the snow to dematerialize? Plus now that you have my blood in you, you can track me.”

“I’d love to drive, if you don’t mind? I have a Range Rover that will go through an avalanche.”

“Plus more time together.” She smiled up at him. “Not a bad thing.”

“Big back seat, too. You know, if on the ride home I’m unable to contain myself.”

“Please don’t fight the feeling.”

He played with a strand of her hair, wrapping it in and around his fingers. “You can just introduce me as your friend.”

“Is that what you’d like me to do?”

“I just don’t want you to get pressured.”

“I think I’ll stick to Silas, how about that?”

“What’s the dress code?”

“A band shirt from the eighties, ripped blue jeans, and three nights of beard growth for the males. Females will be in a combination of Forever 21, handmade gingham housecoats, and Macy’s separates if they’re fancy. Food will be Cheez Whiz, hot dishes, and bags of such exotic fare as sour-cream-and-onion potato chips, Fritos, and Pringles.”

He smiled. “I’ve had Fritos before.”

“With clam dip?”

“Huh?”

“My mother’s clam dip is amazing with them.”

“I’m really looking forward to this.”

“And listen, if you want to leave at any time, you’re free to go. I can always get myself home. As my dad always says, taking care of myself is my one job.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.”

For a moment, Ivie fell quiet as she wondered how in the hell that was going to go. But then she recalibrated things with the reality that it was not a war zone they were going into. It would be loud and packed and raucous, and her dad was going to be a little protective, but no one was going to lose a limb.

Hopefully.

“I’ll stay for however long they’ll have me.”

She frowned as she looked into those pale eyes of his. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Coming with me.”

“If I could, I would go lots of places with you.” His smile was slow. “Many, many places.”

“You know, I could come to visit you. We could travel or—” As he glanced away, she sighed. “Or not. It’s okay. Hey, we’ll enjoy what we have.”

“Yes. Yes, we will.”

When he refocused on her, he brushed his mouth to her lips and whispered in the Old Language, “Thank you for the gift of your vein. I am honored and grateful.”

His diction was beautiful, with the aristocracy’s drawling vowels and rhythmic consonants.

“It was my pleasure. Trust me.”

He kissed her a little more and then he was easing up off of her, his belt digging into her side, his retreat from her sex a cold vacancy. With an elegant move, he pulled the throw blanket off the back of the sofa and spread it over her.

Silas didn’t immediately get to his feet and hit the door. He just sat there, stroking her leg, looking like the last thing he wanted to do was get in a cold car and drive himself across town to wherever he lived.

“We’ve done Italian and English,” he murmured.

“Tomorrow night, we do Hannaford.”

He chuckled. “I was not aware that was a country.”

“It is. It’s small, but very orderly, and relatively inexpensive to visit as long as you have your Hannaford card with you.”

“After that…I want to take you to a French restaurant. And then a Greek one. A Russian one. We have to do Korean, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Japanese. Mmm…I like that smile on your face.”

As he kissed her quick, she murmured, “And I like the idea of having many places to go with you.”

It was a panacea to the reality that they were running out of time.

Chapter Seven

“It’s up there.” Ivie leaned into the dashboard. “See the hill?”

The windshield wipers swept left, and through the falling snow, the lights of her parents’ little house seemed like a spaceship coming down for a landing, hovering above the snow-covered rise.

“I certainly do.” Silas smiled. “Good thing we took the Range Rover.”

In the back of her mind, Ivie thought it was bizarre that she was dating someone who had a choice between this tank-like, blacked-out SUV and a Bentley. Then again, she never would have expected to be with someone as good-looking as he was.