Black Dagger Brotherhood 11 - Lover at Last (31 page)

Lifting his mouth, he pulled Blay down to his own, and when those velvet lips were in range, he

kissed them with a desperation that was returned. All at once, the pent-up past was released in a fury, and as he tasted blood, he didn’t know whose fangs had scored what.

Who the fuck cared.

On a hard yank, he laid Blay down and then he rolled over on top of the other male, spreading

those thighs and pushing himself between them until his hard cock came up against Blay’s….

They both groaned.

Dizzy from all the naked skin, Qhuinn began pumping his hips up and back, the friction of their

sexes and their hot flesh magnifying the wet heat of their mouths. Frenzy, everywhere, hurry, hurry, hurry—holy fucking shit, there was too much hunger to make any sense of where his hands were, or

what he was rubbing against, or— for fuck’s sake, there was too much skin to touch, too much hair to pull, too much…

Qhuinn came hard, his balls going tight, his erection kicking between them, his come going

everywhere.

Didn’t slow him down in the slightest.

With a quick jerk, he broke away from the mouth he could have spent the next hundred years

working, and shoved himself down Blay’s chest. The muscles he came across were nothing like the

human guys’ he’d fucked—this was a vampire, a fighter, a soldier who had trained heavily and

worked his flesh into a condition that was not just useful, but downright deadly. And holy hell was that a turn-on—but more than that, though, this was Blay; it was finally, after all these years…

Blay.

Qhuinn dragged his fangs down abdominals that were rock tight, and the scent of himself on

Blay’s skin was a marking that he knew he’d done on purpose.

That dark spice was going other places, too.

He groaned when his hands found Blay’s cock, and as he circled the hard column, the guy arched

up sharply, a curse cutting through the room, much in the same way the light had just moments before.

Qhuinn licked his lips, stood Blay’s sex up, and let the head of that thick, blunt cock part his

mouth. Sucking down deep, he took it to its base, opening his throat wide, swallowing everything. In response, Blay’s hips shot up, and rough hands bit into his hair, forcing his head even farther down until he couldn’t get any breath to his lungs—and who the fuck needed oxygen, anyway?

Digging his hands under Blay’s ass, he tilted that pelvis and started going up and down, his neck

straining under the punishing rhythm, his shoulders bunching and releasing as he followed through on exactly what he’d been offering before Blay had left.

He wasn’t stopping with this, though.

Nope.

This was just the beginning.

TWENTY-EIGHT

As Blay jacked back against the pillows on Qhuinn’s bed, his head nearly snapped off his

spine. Everything was out of control, but he wouldn’t have slowed things down in the

slightest: With his hips pumping up and down, his cock was pushing in and sucking out of

Qhuinn’s mouth—

Thank God the lights were off.

The sensations alone were too much to handle—adding a visual? He wouldn’t be able to—

The orgasm rocketed out of him, his breath catching, his body going tight all over, his sex kicking hard. And as he came in great spasms, he was milked by that mouth—and man, that suction kept the

release barreling through him, great waves of tingling pleasure sweeping from his brain to his balls, his body hitting a different plane of existence altogether—

Without warning, he was flipped over with a rough hand, his body handled like it didn’t weigh a

damned thing. Then an arm shot under his pelvis and popped him up onto his knees. There was a brief lull, during which all he heard was heavy breathing behind him, the panting getting faster, and harder

—

He heard Qhuinn orgasm and knew exactly what that was for.

Even though his whole body went weak with anticipation, he knew he had to get good and braced

as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and—

The penetration was a branding iron, brutal and hot, going right to the core of him. And he cursed

on an explosive exhale—not because it hurt, although it did in the best possible sense. Not even

because this was something he had wanted forever, although he had.

No, it was because he had the strangest sense he was being marked—and for some reason, that

made him—

A hiss sounded at his ear, and then a pair of fangs sank into his shoulder, Qhuinn’s grip shifting to his hips, his torso locked in so many places now. And then the relentless hammering started, Blay’s molars clapping together, his arms having to hold both their bodies up, his legs and torso straining under the onslaught.

He had a feeling the headboard was slamming against the wall—and for a split second, he

remembered that chandelier in the library going back and forth as Layla had been subjected to this.

Blay cursed the image. He couldn’t allow himself to go there; he just couldn’t. God knew there

was plenty of time to dwell on that stuff later.

Right now? This was too damn good to waste….

As the pounding continued, his palms slid on the fine cotton sheets, and he had to reposition them, pushing down into the soft mattress to try to keep himself in place. God, the sounds that Qhuinn was making, the grunting that reverberated from between the fangs buried in his shoulder, the thumping—

yeah, that was the headboard. Definitely.

With pressure building up again in his balls, he was tempted to palm himself—but no hope of that.

He needed both arms on the job—

Like Qhuinn read his mind, the male reached around and gripped him.

No pumping needed. Blay came so hard his vision went twinkle-twinkle-little-star, and at that

very instant, Qhuinn started orgasming, too, those hips spearing inside and freezing for a split second before withdrawing an inch and going deep for another kicking explosion. And yeah, wow, the

combination of them both doing their thing was so erotic, it just primed everything all over again: There was no break for recovery, no pause at all. Qhuinn just resumed driving—if anything, it was

like the release had made his need stronger.

As the sex raged on—and in spite of all the strength he had in his upper body—Blay ended up

getting fucked clean off the bed, one hand locking on the side table to keep him from hitting the wall—

Crash.

“Shit,” he said roughly. “The lamp—”

Qhuinn wasn’t interested in home furnishings, apparently. The male just yanked Blay’s head

around and started kissing him, that pierced tongue penetrating his mouth, licking and sucking…like he couldn’t get enough.

Dizzy. He got downright dizzy from it all. In every fantasy he’d ever had, he’d always pictured

Qhuinn as a ferocious lover, but this was…on another level.

So it was from a distance that he heard himself say in a guttural voice, “Bite me…again….”

A great growl from above threaded into his ears, and then another hiss ripped through the

darkness as Qhuinn shifted positions, his massive weight torquing so that those sharp fangs could sink in deep on the side of the throat.

Blay cursed and wiped clean the rest of whatever was on the table, his chest taking the place of

the objects, his sweat-streaked skin squeaking on the varnish as he lay half on his side. Throwing a hand out, he caught the flat plane of the floor and shoved back, keeping them both stable as Qhuinn fed and fucked him so good….

Too many times to count, until the pillows were on the floor, the sheets were torn, another lamp

got knocked over—and he wasn’t sure, but he thought they banged the picture over the bed off the

wall.

When stillness finally replaced all the straining and effort, Blay breathed heavily, and still felt like he was underwater.

Qhuinn was doing the same.

The growing wet patch at Blay’s throat suggested things had gotten so out of hand that there had

been no sealing up the vein that had been taken. Whatever. He didn’t care, couldn’t think, wasn’t

going to worry. The blissed-out, floating aftermath was too glorious to spoil, his body at once

hypersensitive and numb, hot and temperate, sore and satiated.

Man, the sheets were going to need to be cleaned. And Fritz was undoubtedly going to have to

find some Super Glue for those lamps.

Where exactly was he?

Putting his hand out, he patted around and ran into carpet and a dust ruffle…and a blanket chest.

Oh, right—hanging off the far end of the bed. Which would explain the head rush he was rocking.

When Qhuinn finally eased off of him, Blay wanted to follow, but his body was far too interested

in being an inanimate object. Or more like a bolt of cloth, maybe…

Gentle hands lifted him up and carefully, gingerly, rolled him over onto his back. There was some

other movement at that point, and then he felt himself get repositioned against pillows that had been returned to their rightful place. Finally, a lightweight blanket was settled halfway up his body, as if Qhuinn knew that he was just about too hot to have any more coverage, and yet already feeling the

chill as the sweat that covered him started to dry.

His hair was brushed back from his forehead, and then his head was eased to the side. Lips like

silk kissed down the column of his neck, and then long, slow lapping sealed the puncture wounds that he had asked for and been given.

When it was done, he allowed his head to be turned toward Qhuinn. Even though it was pitch

dark, he knew exactly what the face staring into his own looked like—flush on the cheeks, half-mast lids, lips red—

The kiss that was pressed against his own mouth was reverent, the contact no heavier than the

warm, still air in the room. It was the consummate lover’s kiss, the kind of thing he had wanted even more than the hot sex they’d just had—

Panic struck in the center of his chest and resonated outward through him in the blink of an eye.

His hands shot out of their own volition, shoving Qhuinn away. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you touch

me like that—ever.”

He sprang up off the bed and landed God only knew where in the room. Fumbling around, he hit

various pieces of furniture, but then was able to orientate himself by the thin line of light that shone under the way out.

Grabbing his robe from the floor, he did not look back as he left.

Couldn’t bear to see the aftermath in any kind of light.

That made it all too real.

Eventually, Qhuinn had to will the lights in his bedroom on. He couldn’t stand the darkness any

longer.

As illumination flooded the space, he blinked hard and had to put his arms up to shield his eyes.

After things recalibrated in retina-land, he looked around.

Chaos. Total chaos.

So all of that had actually happened, huh. And how ironic that the inside of his head made this

goddamn mess look military-order in comparison.

Don’t you touch me like that.

Ah, hell, he thought as he scrubbed his face. He couldn’t blame the guy.

For one thing, he’d shown about as much finesse as a bulldozer. Wrecking ball. Armed tank. The

problem was, it had all been too much to show any patience: Instinct, as pure as octane and just as flammable, had lit him up—the session had been a case of letting the shit out.

Oh, God, he’d marked the guy.

Fuck
. Not exactly good form, considering Blay was already in love and in a relationship…and going back to his lover’s bed.

Then again, when a male was with the one he wanted, especially if it was the first time, that was

what happened. Hell broke loose….

It went without saying that it had been the best sex of his life, the first right fit after a long history of not-even-closes. The thing was, at the end, he’d wanted Blay to know that, had been searching for words and relying on touch to pave the way to the confession.

But it was clear the male didn’t want to get close like that.

Which brought up a second, even more profound regret.

Revenge sex was not about attraction; it was about utility. And Blay had used him, just like he’d

asked to be used.

That hollow feeling came back tenfold. A hundredfold.

Unable to stand the emotion, he burst up to his feet, and had to curse: The notable tightness in his lower back had fuck-all to do with the airplane accident, and everything to do with the pneumatics

he’d just spent the last hour…or longer…throwing around.

Shit.

Going into the bath, he left the lights off, but there was more than enough to go by from the

bedroom as he turned on the shower. This time, he waited for the water to get warm—his body was

not up for another shocker.

It was so pathetic, but the last thing he wanted was to wash Blay’s scent off his skin, but he was