J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 5-8 - J. R. Ward [356]
He wanted to be all over her, inside of her.
He wanted to do some marking of his own.
Cormia knew that her body was doing exactly what the Primale’s had the day before. The gathering storm and the urgency she felt and the heat roaring through her told her she was where he had been.
On the brink.
The Primale was huge between her legs, his broad shoulders stretching her wide. His gorgeous multicolored hair was all over her thighs, and his mouth was like on like against her core, lips meeting lips, slippery tongue against slick folds. It all seemed so glorious and scary and inevitable . . . and the only reason she wasn’t completely overwhelmed was his hand on hers.
The touch was better than any words of reassurance on so many levels—but mostly because if he’d tried to speak to her, he would have had to stop what he was doing, and that would have been a crime.
Just when she thought she would fragment apart, a wave of energy crashed down all over her, sweeping her up and away to some other place as her body rhythmically surged. As all that wonderful tension snapped free, the release was so satisfying tears sprang to her eyes, and she cried out something—or maybe it was nothing, just an explosion of breath.
When it was over, the Primale lifted his head, his tongue taking on one last lingering upstroke before flicking free of her core.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes wild and yellow.
She opened her mouth to speak. When nothing coherent came out, she nodded.
The Primale licked his lips nice and slow, flashing the tips of fangs that were visible . . . and became even more pronounced as he looked at her neck.
Shifting her head to the side and offering him her vein was the most natural thing in the world to do.
“Take from me,” she said.
His eyes flared and he prowled up her body, kissing her stomach and pausing at one of her nipples, giving it lapping attention. And then his fangs were over her throat. “Are you sure?”
“Yes—oh, GOD!”
His strike was hard and deep, and it happened so fast . . . just as she’d imagined it would. He was a Brother in need of what sustained them all, and she was nothing fragile to be broken. She gave and he took and another surge of that wild tension began to build in her again.
She shifted on the table, spreading her legs. “Take me. Whilst you do this . . . be in me.”
Without breaking the seal on her throat, he growled wildly and worked at his pants, the belt buckle clanging against the table. He shifted her down to the end roughly, clapped his hands behind her knees, and eased her open.
She felt a hot, hard probe—
But then he stopped.
The sucking drifted off to a soft lapping and then to little kisses, and then he grew motionless except for his breathing. She could still sense the sex in his blood, could still smell his dark scent, could still feel the need for her vein, but he didn’t move even though she was spread for his use.
He let go of her legs, gently put them down, and gathered her up, tucking his head into her shoulder.
She held him gently, the tremendous weight of his muscles and bones balanced between the floor and the table so he didn’t crush her.
“Are you all right?” she said into his ear.
His head shook back and forth and inched even closer to her. “I need you to know something.”
“What ails you?” She stroked his shoulder. “Talk to me.”
He said something that she didn’t catch. “What?”
“I’m . . . a virgin.”
Chapter Thirty-two
"TONIGHT?” Xhex asked. “You’re going up north tonight?”
Rehv nodded and went back to reviewing the construction plans for his new club. The sheaves of paper were stretched out across his desk, the blue architectural renderings overtaking all his other paperwork.
Nope. This was not what he wanted. The flow wasn’t right—it was too open. He wanted a layout that was full of small spaces where people could get off in the shadows. He wanted