The Wolf (Black Dagger Brotherhood - Prison Camp 2)
With her other hand, she went between her legs, spreading them a little, touching herself through her pants, through her underwear . . . through the insanity that had so clearly taken over her judgment. In this moment, though, all she knew was that she was tired of waging a war against an intangible, disinterested enemy of shoulds, and woulds, and coulds. She hadn’t been just a woman in a very, very long time, and staring up at Luke right now? It was impossible to do anything but feel.
And yeah, sure, fine, maybe the concussion(s) had wiped out the risk-assessment portion of her brain.
But she really didn’t care.
“I don’t get even a please?” Luke murmured.
“No, that’s your job. To do the begging.”
“Me?” When she nodded, he stroked his shaft with that palm of his. Up and down. “As in . . .”
“‘Rio, will you please . . .’”
“Please what?” Another stroke. All the way to the big head. “What comes next?”
“I can’t remember. Sorry. You’ll have to figure it out on your own.”
She brought her fingers to her mouth, pushing them past her lips. Then she let her eyes roll back in her head as she drew them in deep and retracted them. Drew them in deep and brought them back out again.
“Oh, fuck, Rio, please suck my cock,” he blurted.
That mouth.
Those lips.
Those two fingers going in and out of that mouth and those lips, in and out, in and out—and then came the tongue. As Rio licked around the glistening digits, her talented, little pink—
Lucan fell off the cliff and threw out some combination of syllables. He wasn’t sure what he’d said, exactly—but “PLEASE” had been in there front and center.
Just like she’d wanted it to be.
And hell, at the rate she was going, he would have said anything she wanted him to—state capitals, names of countries. A goddamn grocery list.
“Well,” she murmured, “since you asked so nicely.”
Her arms extended out again, and he felt her hands slip around the backs of his thighs once more.
“Gimme,” she whispered. “Let me taste you.”
With a feeling of unreality, Lucan widened his stance and lowered his thumping erection right into her—
Her tongue came first. She licked at his tip, flicked at it, and teased some more until his legs shook. And then, just as he was about to lose it, just as his whole arm was trembling, when the release was going to happen—
Rio opened wide and took him down.
The shock of exactly what he had expected and had wanted made him go momentarily numb—and that was the only reason he didn’t come right away. And then there was the incomprehensible sight of his girth stretching her lips wide, the white slice of her lower teeth flashing, the column of her throat so very exposed—
So tempting to his fangs.
As they tingled and dropped down, a cold blast of warning went through him. No, he couldn’t go there. He couldn’t let that fantasy, of biting her, of sucking something of hers down deep, get too far.
He was already on the verge of losing control, and he would not, could never, hurt her in any way—or endanger her life by bleeding her out.
“Mmm,” she said as she swallowed him down again.
“I gotta touch you,” he growled. Or something like that. What the fuck was coming out of his mouth?
Bending over her, he went for her pants, attacking the fly with sloppy, sloppy hands. Meanwhile, where she was working him, she took over where his grip had been, tight, tight palms wrapping around him and starting to pump as she sucked him off.
Yanking down what covered her lower body, she helped him in the effort, kicking off her boots, toeing down the fabric—
Okay, fine, he broke his no-bite rule in spirit when he leaned all the way over and ripped one of his fangs through the hip string of her panties. And to keep it even, ’cuz fair was fair, he tore the other string that went over her opposite hip with his hands.
Lucan went right in with his mouth. Parting her thighs wide, he led with his lips, stroking her sex as she sucked his, the pleasure going nuclear—
As she cried out, he only knew it because her hot breath and cold inhale was what threw him over the edge.
Or no, maybe it was the taste of her. The slick feel of her. The way she cranked over onto her side while she writhed in ecstasy and he had to force her back into position.
Or . . . it could have been the rolling of her hips against his face as she herself came. At the same time he did.
It was the most perfect sex of his life.
And he hadn’t even had her yet.
God, why didn’t they have more time?
Did that count as a quickie, Rio wondered as she turned to the spray in the shower, opened her mouth . . .