Darkness Hunts (Dark Angels 4)

He chuckled softly. “So you’re telling me you’re feeling no desire whatsoever right now.”

“I am.”

His hands slid down to the base of my spine, then over one butt cheek. “Not even the slightest stirrings.”

“Not even,” I murmured, stoutly ignoring said stirrings.

But the fact that the minute he touched me I seemed unable to tell him to leave me the hell alone had doubts stirring again. Not that those doubts did me a lot of good in this situation.

“Then if I do this”—his touch slid between my legs and gently caressed—”it will have no effect whatsoever?”

“None. Absolutely, totally zero.”

He chuckled softly and the bed bounced as he nudged my legs open a little wider. His caress found my clit and I bit my lip against the moan that rose up my throat. “Lucian, I’ve only had three hours’ sleep.”

“And?”

“And, I’d really rather—” His fingers slipped slowly inside me at that point, and the rest of the sentence was lost as my muscles clenched around him and pleasure shot through me.

“Ah, the stirrings of desire,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. “Let’s see if we can get it a little stronger.”

But his touch withdrew, and disappointment swirled. So much for having no energy, I thought, amused. Then he shifted, and something hot hit my back. I flinched instinctively, but it didn’t actually burn. The scent told me what it was—coffee. It drizzled down my back, following the line of my spine, until it ran between my legs. The heat was a stark contrast to the coolness of the room, and I shivered in expectation and delight. Then his tongue touched me, swirling across the moisture, lapping it from my skin, following the trail of it down my spine and between my legs.

Any pretense of zero interest flew out the window there and then.

He chuckled again and repeated the process, until the moans were thick and constant, and all I wanted was him inside me.

And that was when the phone rang. I cursed softly, knowing the ringtone, not wanting to answer it but knowing I had to. Uncle Rhoan rarely rang unless it was urgent and it would undoubtedly mean an end to the morning’s delights.

“Ignore it.” Lucian gripped my hips and lifted me into a doggy position.

“I can’t.” I reached for the phone. “It’s my uncle.”

Lucian slid his cock through my slickness, teasing but not entering. “I’m sure your uncle would understand. He is, after all, a werewolf.”

“Who doesn’t normally ring me. My aunt normally does all the social stuff, so this has to be urgent.” I hit the ANSWER button, but not the vid-screen option. No matter how open werewolves were about sex, I wasn’t inclined to let Rhoan know just what I was up to right now. “Yes?”

“Risa?”

“Yes.” Lucian hadn’t stopped his seduction, so it came out a little more breathless than it should have.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just busy. What can I do for you?”

Lucian slid fully inside of me and I bit back a gasp of pleasure. He withdrew, then thrust inside again, and then again, his movements becoming faster, more demanding, with every stroke. Pleasure pulsed through me, thick and heavy.

“We need to you to come down to the Directorate,” Rhoan was saying. “We have a major problem.”

“And why is your problem suddenly my problem?”

I have no idea how my voice came out so even. Lucian’s movements had grown fiercer, his grip on my hips harder, and I responded, pushing back against him, wanting all he could give, as fast as he could give it.

Then my orgasm hit, and I bit my lip against the scream, trying to hear what Rhoan was saying as Lucian surged within me, coming with such intensity it felt like he was spearing through my entire body.

“What?” I somehow said.

Rhoan growled low, then said, “Damn it, Risa, pay attention. Our killer has contacted us again. But this time, he doesn’t want to gloat. This time, he’s offering a challenge.”