Crimson Highlander (Onyx Assassins 2)

“What’s to say I won’t ruin you?” she challenged, her eyes crackling with need.

“Oh, lass. You already have,” I whispered against her ear as my fingers grasped her zipper. “Three.”

Her fingers traced the V-line of my abs, and I sucked in a breath.

“Two,” I warned her, starting to slowly unzip her dress.

“One,” she finished, tugging my towel free and dropping it to the ground.

It was on.

I claimed her mouth in a deep, wet kiss as I pulled her zipper all the way free. We both groaned at the first touch of our tongues. It had been nights since I’d kissed her. Nights since I’d tasted the honey between her thighs. And days of dreaming about getting here again.

There was nothing hesitant or shy about this kiss. No, it was teeth and tongues and heat. She pushed her dress down her hips, and I heard the rustle of fabric as it fell to the floor. Her fingers wrapped around my cock, and I broke the kiss with a hiss.

“God, Lachlan,” she marveled as she stroked me from root to tip, her fingers not quite meeting. The pleasure of it was white-hot, jolting up my spine and spreading through my body.

“Fuck,” I muttered as her hand worked me, her thumb swirling over the drop of precum that escaped my cock.

She lifted her thumb to her mouth and licked it clean, just like I had done for her at the opera house.

The growl that escaped me wasn’t anything that resembled human as I gripped her ass and hauled her up against my body. Then our mouths tangled again, and she hooked her legs around my waist as I carried us to my bed.

The kiss went on and on as I lowered her to the covers, careful to brace my weight so I didn’t crush her. There was so much that could go wrong here if I lost control, so many ways I could hurt her if I wasn’t careful.

She sucked my tongue into her mouth, and I kissed her deep before rising above her and looking my fill. She wore a strapless black bra and matching lace thong that contrasted erotically against the pale silk of her skin.

“Beautiful,” I murmured, my gaze taking in the high rise of her breasts, the lean muscles of her stomach she’d honed with hours of training that tucked in at her waist, the delicate swell of her hips, and the sweet space between her thighs. “You are perfect, Valor.”

She arched her back, slipped her hands behind her for a second, then threw the bra to the ground. I fucking loved how confidant she was in her body, how at home she seemed in her own skin.

Her eyes met mine with a hint of challenge, like she was daring me to find some imperfection where I already knew there was none. I lowered my mouth to her breast and sucked it between my lips, tonguing the peak until her nipple was hard and swollen. She moaned, rocking her hips beneath me, and she moved her hands to her hips.

I caught her wrists, then gathered them in one hand and pinned them above her head. “You don’t get to have all the fun of undressing you.”

“Then go faster.” She arched a brow, hooking one leg over my hip.

“Greedy girl.” I grinned, then kissed her hard, fusing my mouth to hers until she was breathless and gasping.

Then I released her wrists, hooked my thumbs in the straps of her thong, and slid off the bed, taking the scrap of black lace down her thighs with me. I hit my knees on the floor, and as soon as her panties were off, gripped her hips in both hands and tugged her to the edge of the bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, leaning up on her elbows.

“Feasting as promised,” I growled against her inner thigh, inhaling the sweet scent of her arousal and holding it my lungs like the drug it was.

Touch. Taste. Bite. Claim.

The demands of my instincts filled my head and locked my muscles, lengthening my fangs. There would be no biting and no claiming—not in the way my body wanted—in bonds and blood. But touching? Tasting? Fuck yes.

“Fuck, you smell incredible.” If all we had was one night, then I was going to make the most of it. I pushed her thighs wide, sealed my mouth over her pussy, and licked her clean, groaning at the honey and citrus taste of her as she slid down my tongue, my throat.

“Lachlan!” she shouted, her fingers spearing into my hair. Her feet pressed against the side of the bed, looking for purchase, but the bed was too tall. She couldn’t rock against my face, couldn’t use her own body as leverage. She could only lay there and accept what I gave her.