Soulbound (Darkest London 6)

Understanding gleamed in her eyes. “Let go, love. There’s time for me yet.”

“I don’t want it to end.”

“The end simply means we can begin again.” Smiling, she leaned up, her hand cupping his sweat-slicked nape, and she licked his neck, just as her sex squeezed around his cock. Adam shouted his pleasure, and promptly lost his mind. Pumping into her as though his life might end, he came with such force that his sight went dark.

He paused over her, his body a plank of quivering muscle, before his strength left him, and he fell against her, wrapping her up in his arms, his cock still snug within her. Where he belonged.

“Spread your legs wider, sweet dove.” Adam’s deep voice rumbled in her ear like the purr of a lion. And Eliza obeyed, her body no longer under her command, but beholden to his will. And his hard body moved over her, surrounding her with heat and the scent of him.

“I’m tired,” she protested in the dark. A lie. And he knew it, for his chuckle was slow and satisfied, his cock stiff and seeking.

“I’ll go slow.” He eased inside of her, inch by thick inch. And she groaned, her sex tender and swollen, her flesh so sensitive the pleasure was near pain. Adam murmured words of praise as he worked himself in, his hands roaming her body in gentle caresses. “That’s it, lass, take me.”

Her lids fluttered closed, and he brushed his lips over them. So tender. His breath warmed her skin. “Tell me again, Eliza.”

In the dark, she smiled weakly, heat blooming anew. He’d been making the same demand all night. All night as he took her, made her scream her release, and then took her again. And she’d been answering all night.

“No,” she said now, still smiling. She’d tease him this time, and he would reward her.

His next thrust pushed her up the bed, and her sex clenched around him. Adam groaned. “Tell me,” he murmured, his mouth skimming along her neck. He moved slowly now, so very slowly but with a deliberation that made her feel each stroke, each time he almost left her, only to surge back in.

Boneless and hot, she stretched her arms overhead, as his mouth traced the contours of her breast. “Tell me, Eliza,” he said around her nipple. “Say it.”

He drew the tender nipple into his mouth and suckled. Eliza whimpered, her hands clenching his shoulder, and she gave him what he wanted. “You are mine.”

He kissed her then, open and deep, his breath heavy as he pumped into her with hard, sure strokes. And she lit up like a brand, her body flaring with such heat that she cried out into his mouth. As if he’d been waiting for that moment, Adam bucked against her, all moving muscles and utter strength. They came together, lost and found. And he pulled her close, his damp limbs tangling with hers, his lips resting against the curve of her neck.

Eliza drifted off with his voice whispering in her ear. “And you are mine.”

Lust was an ache that had not abated. Not even in the new hours of the morning when the sky had begun to lighten to grey. She could not stop touching him, smoothing her palms down his strong back, along the rippling length of his arms. Nor he her. With languid movements, Adam nuzzled his way along her body, as if he needed to discover her anew.

She kissed his neck, where his skin was sensitive and his scent the strongest. “Was it what you expected?”

She had been his first. His only. Pride and possession filled her. Was this how men felt when they bedded virgins? As though they’d claimed something rare and precious and never wanted to let it go?

Adam released her nipple with a wet pop, and lightly resting his chin upon her belly, he gazed up at her. In the dim of the room, his eyes seemed to glow with a satisfied light. “It was more.” His lids lowered, his attention drifting once more to her breasts. “I want more.”

Her sex clenched. But he caught her eye, and his expression grew hesitant. “And you,” he asked quietly. “Was it… Did you…” His teeth bit into his bottom lip.

Eliza pushed an inky lock of hair back from his brow. “It was glorious, Adam.” And it had been. The power of his body, the force of his need, had taken her breath away. Witnessing him come apart, the almost painful expression upon his gorgeous face, was something she’d never forget.

Still watching her, he made a noncommittal noise. His warm palm caressed her thigh, as if he too could not stop touching, exploring. “And yet,” he said, pressing kisses across her belly, “I do believe, I need to return a favor.”

The linens rustled as he sank lower, nipping along her skin. A small cry escaped her as he eased between her thighs and his clever mouth found her sex. His voice was a vibration against her sensitized flesh. “Here, for example” – his tongue licked out, making her pant – “has been sorely used. Shall I kiss it and make it better now, sweet dove?”

He did not wait for her answer but proceeded to pay full homage to her with lips, tongue, and, at times, teeth. And Eliza loved every moment of it.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The air in Mab’s room was too thick, too close. Mab longed for fresh fields, green grass, flowers. She longed for the old days when idiot villagers placed sick babes in the woods because they believed in her, believed in the fae – when they thought she would give them a new child. Such fear and devotion. Such power.

And now? Sweat trickled down her spine. Disgusting, agitated sweat. How could this be? Mab strode over the thick silk carpeting, the sound muffled, until all she heard was her own breath and the hard beat of her heart. Plots. Plots abounded. Against her. She knew Mellan wanted her dead. He always had. And now her sweet and biddable Eliza had left her. Taking her Aodh.