Home > Unforgiven (Vampires in America #7.5)(8)

Unforgiven (Vampires in America #7.5)(8)
Author: D. B. Reynolds

“He could be newly turned,” Raphael said thoughtfully.

“But that’s not what he said,” she reminded him. “He claimed to have been living in the Midwest under Klemens. So, how come no one’s ever heard of him?”

“I’ll reach out to Aden and have his people check into it. More likely, he’s given us a false name.”

Cyn stepped even closer. “Do you think he’s a spy?” she asked softly, even though there was no way anyone could overhear their conversation.

“Very possibly. I told you we’ve expected our enemies to make a move. This could be it.”

“But what’s his game? Is he supposed to—”

“Cyn,” Raphael said, stopping her with a brush of his fingers over her lips. “Juro is on top of this, and so is Jared. And if they fail to discern Pascal’s true motives, I have every confidence in my own humble abilities—”

It was Cyn’s turn to interrupt with a scoffing huff of air. “There’s not a humble bone in your body. But, don’t you want to know—”

“This is what I know, lubimaya. It’s late, and if war is upon us, I want to make love to my beloved mate one more time before the end.”

“Don’t say that,” Cyn whispered. “Not even as a joke. No one’s going to be ending.”

“Make love to me anyway.”

She forced herself to smile against the chill his words had induced.

“Any time, fang boy,” she murmured and moved into his embrace, her hand sliding over his flat belly, into the invitation of his half-open pants. She found him hard and ready as her fingers circled his length, as she stroked slowly up and down, appreciating the size and breadth of him, the velvet thickness of his skin, the steel shaft beneath. Her breath caught as his cock jerked eagerly against the palm of her hand.

Raphael’s breath was a caress against her skin as he grasped the two sides of her blouse and ripped it open, his strong fingers making short work of the delicate clasp on her bra.

“Cyn,” his voice rumbled against her ear.

She looked up and his mouth came down on hers, his fingers tangling in her hair as he held her in place, his tongue delving deep into her mouth, sweeping over her gums, caressing her tongue. Her lips were crushed against his to the point of pain, but she didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to lose the warm pressure of his mouth, the sharp points of his fangs. She thrust her tongue into his mouth in turn, seeking out his fangs, stroking their hard lengths even as she continued to massage his cock, her fingers playing up and down its length, squeezing and releasing until he was thrusting against her hand.

Raphael’s fist tightened suddenly against the back of her head, twisting her hair over his fingers as he pulled her head back sharply. She cried out as the movement scraped the point of one fang over her lip, tearing the delicate skin to release a trickle of blood. Cyn felt the warm, liquid flow, felt Raphael’s body stiffen in reaction, his tongue sweeping out to gather in every last drop, his throat working as he swallowed it with a hungry growl.

“Cyn,” he repeated, warning her this time.

“But I like touching—”

That was all she managed to say before she found herself picked up bodily and tossed onto their big bed. She laughed as she flew through the air and bounced on the thick mattress. Then she laid back and watched appreciatively as Raphael stripped out of his trousers and underwear—something he only wore with dress slacks—shoving them down his legs with a single impatient gesture before he stalked across the room toward the bed. Cyn’s laughter fell away, her breath trapped in her lungs as she took in the magnificence of a fully naked, and fully aroused, Raphael. He was over six feet of pure, masculine beauty. Broad shoulders with sleek layers of defined muscle, a well-formed chest and a pack of abs that was closer to eight than six. His belly was flat, his hips narrow, and . . . well, everything else was the stuff of an artist’s dream.

Raphael watched her watching him, a smug smile curving his sensuous lips as he crawled up onto the bed with all the grace of the lethal predator he was. It was at times like this that Cyn was reminded forcefully that her lover was something other than human. No human could possess such beauty and lethality in one perfect package.

Mine, mine, mine, she thought to herself.

“Yours,” Raphael agreed, and she realized she’d spoken out loud.

Still on all fours, bracketing her body with his arms and legs, Raphael dipped his head to her breast, his teeth closing over an erect nipple before he sucked her breast into his warm, wet mouth. Her back bowed upward, offering him better access, as her fingers scraped through his thick, short hair and over the back of his neck. She wrapped her legs around his waist and groaned as she realized she was still wearing almost all of her clothes.

“Raphael,” she complained fitfully.

He lifted his head, grinning at her frustration, then without warning, he slid down her body and began stripping away her jeans, ripping open the button and sliding down the zipper. Cyn struggled out of the remains of her blouse and bra, as Raphael hooked his thumbs into her jeans and pulled them over her hips, catching the narrow band of her panties as he stripped them down her legs and over her bare feet.

He slowed once she was completely naked, sitting back on his heels, running his big hands over her calves, stroking up to catch her knees and bend them toward her chest, pressing her thighs up and open, licking his lips in blatant appreciation.

Cyn’s breath caught in her throat when his eyes took on the silvery glow of his power, his gaze spearing her through a fan of thick, black lashes.

“Mine,” he growled, in conscious imitation of her earlier claiming. His fangs slid out from between lips she knew were deceptively soft, and Cyn’s mouth went dry.

“Raphael,” she whispered, and then her head fell back and all she could do was breathe as he bent over and put his mouth to her thigh, as his fangs sliced through the soft skin and pierced the big vein in her leg. Cyn gasped as the euphoric in his bite rushed into her bloodstream, as her blood grew heated and every nerve ending lit up like Christmas on steroids. She cried out when her clit came to glorious life, going from aroused to oh-my-god-I’m-coming in a single, thumping heartbeat. She tried to slam her thighs together, instinct ordering her to protect her throbbing clit from anymore stimulation, but Raphael wouldn’t let her. His hands held her wide open as his lips caressed her thigh around his fangs. She could feel the pull of his bite, the strong working of his throat as he swallowed her blood.

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