Velvet Cataclysm (Princes of the Underground 1)

“Fuck,” he shouted hoarsely. His flesh shuddered when he withdrew. He collapsed on the bed next to her, panting like he’d just run uphill for miles.

What had gone wrong? He couldn’t comprehend it. He’d absorbed his fill of the earth’s powerful vitessence. The need to feed shouldn’t come again until tomorrow.

But he’d been consuming Christina’s energy just now. True, he hadn’t felt compelled to drink her blood, but he’d lost control while her sublime sex juices had been covering his tongue and sliding down his throat. The next thing he knew, he’d been crazed and fucking her like a madman.

“Saint?” Christina asked shakily. The volume of her voice rose when he remained with his eyes shut. “Saint, what’s wrong?”

He slowly opened his eyes and pinned her with his stare.

“I’m sorry. I was taking from you. I didn’t mean to. I don’t know why…”

She craned up with her head, her dark brows knitted together on her damp forehead. “Of course you were taking from me, Saint. We were making love. That’s what it’s about.” She glanced down at his thick erection. “Besides, I gave you nothing compared to what you gave me. Saint… Stop looking at me like that. I’d sure like to talk to this guy, Kavya, if he’s the one who taught you about making love. That guy’s got a real screw loose.”

“Kavya’s got nothing to do with it. I’ve been having sex for five hundred and ninety-six years, Christina. I would think I know a thing or two about it,” he said irritably as he panted, trying to get a handle on what had just happened. He couldn’t comprehend how he could have lost control when he was so sure he wouldn’t have. Why had he felt the need to absorb Christina’s vitessence when he wasn’t even hungry?

She tugged in rising frustration on the silk scarf. “Will you untie me, please? I want to touch you.”

He just studied her for several seconds while his mind churned. Despite his mental turmoil, he couldn’t help but appreciate the flush on her naked skin, her heaving breasts, and spread, suspended legs. Gods, it’d felt so good to drown himself in her.

His cock lurched up from his thigh.

“Saint?”

“All right,” he said finally as he reached for the knotted scarf. “Maybe you’re right. I’m the one who needs to be restrained here, not you.”

As soon as Saint unbound her, Christina reached for him. The fact that he restricted her worship of his lean, muscular body and smooth skin made her exponentially more excited every time she touched him. This nonsense he kept uttering about regretting the hot, soulful manner in which he’d been making love to her made her want to scream.

How could he regret something so elementally beautiful?

She massaged the corded muscles of his neck and ran her fingers through the sweat-dampened hair at his nape. He must have expended a thousand calories, the way he’d been fucking her with so much delicious exuberance. It’d made her feel like a goddess to have him grow so wild at the experience of merging their flesh. If the sensation of his long cock probing deep, secret flesh hadn’t been enough for her to come repeatedly, she thought she might have climaxed from just witnessing his profound need.

“Wanting someone…needing them…isn’t a sin, Saint,” she whispered as she met his fierce, blue-eyed gaze. She felt her heart sink, however, when he glanced away.

“Maybe that’s true for you. For me, it’s the polar opposite of truth. Do you want to continue having sex, or not?”

A pocket of restrained air flew past her lips. “Of course I want to continue. You make it sound so…mechanical. You’re not a robot. Stop acting like one!”

His facial muscles pulled tight as he pulled back from her embrace. He sat at the edge of the bed, removing his boots and socks. He stood to shove his jeans off his long legs. Christina’s mouth went dry when she saw the two thongs that fit snugly beneath his muscular ass cheeks. She watched, mesmerized, as he untied two well-worn leather straps from a thigh dusted with golden brown hair. He moved with brisk economy—the actions performed by a man day in and day out until they were second nature.

He turned in profile and Christina groaned. For some reason, the sight of the leather next to his naked skin and in such close proximity to the glistening, stiff rod of his cock, caused her clit to pinch in painful arousal. After he’d loosened the sheath from his left leg, he pulled the thong down his thighs and stepped out of it. He set the sheathed short sword on the bedside table and turned toward her.

He seemed entirely unaware of her stunned state as she gawked at his magnificent body. He knelt on the bed to remove her ankles from the restraints. Christina bit her bottom lip, trying to still her mounting lust. It’d been so dark last night, she hadn’t really been able to savor him with her eyes. Seeing him like this—all that delineated muscle gloved by smooth, golden brown skin, his long, swollen cock, the weight of the head pulling down the stalk, his large, shaven testicles hanging like lush, ripe fruit—made her feel like she was in bed with a pagan fertility god of old.

Too bad Saint’s strange ideas about sex seemed to parallel that of the wildly different nature of gods and humans.

He once again sprawled across the bed and dug in his bedside table. This time she wasn’t quite so shocked when he extracted two leather wrist cuffs with sturdy-looking metal buckles and hooks attached. She sat up slowly as she watched him kneel on the bed, buckling a cuff around each of his wrists.

“Saint…” she mumbled doubtfully when he tossed aside the pillows and sat at the edge of the bed, his back against the headboard.

He glanced up at her before he resumed pulling two heavy straps up from the end of the mattress. Christina whimpered in rising arousal when she saw him matter-of-factly shift his penis from one thigh to the other while he affixed one strap at the top of his thigh. He did the same with the other. After he was done, she couldn’t unglue her eyes from the erotic site of the restraints highlighting his full testicles and swollen cock in a V of black leather. He stretched his arms out to the side.

“Now attach my wrists to those,” he said, using his chin to indicate the metal hooks in the wall. He’d been so businesslike about the whole ordeal that Christina couldn’t help but be irritated.

“What if I don’t want to?” she asked testily, even though it was a moronic question. She wanted to all right. She’d have to be brain-dead not to want unrestricted access to his beautiful body.

His face fell. “Does it turn you off? The idea of restraining a male? I’m sorry—it’s not my thing either, really, but I have to keep control, Christina. It’s such a trial, wanting you as much as I do.”

Her mouth had been open in preparation to protest until he said that last sentence, and she saw the uncertainty in his eyes. She told herself that the sight of his beautiful cock and balls cupped in supple leather had nothing to do with it. She’d never been into any type of bondage before and couldn’t figure out why the concept lit up all sorts forbidden pathways of excitement in her body. The idea of restraining Saint for her own personal consumption was just as exciting as it had been to have Saint tie her up and do the same to her.