“Like this?” he asked and pressed into her wet heat, stretching and possessing her, inch by maddening inch.
“Yes. Oh god, yes.”
“How does that feel, baby?”
She whimpered and leaned forward as he pressed her closer to the wall, placing her forehead against the tile and taking shelter from the water as he blanketed her from above.
A deft rotation of his hips and he was pumping into her in smooth steady strokes, pulling out until only the tip remained inside before plunging back in, slow and even, so wonderful yet not enough. Situated as she was, there was no way to assist the movement, to find the position that would send her over.
“Please.” She moaned, desperate for release.
“Is this what you need?” His free hand came around and dipped past her stomach, his middle finger finding and manipulating her clit. Crying out, she arched her back and lifted her head, pushing her shoulders against him.
“Diskant.” She was so close.
So damn close…
“This time we’ll take the edge off. But next time I want all of you, Ava. Inside and out. Last night was only the beginning.” The heat of his breath caressed her nape and she felt the sharp scrape of teeth against her flesh. “Come for me.”
She screamed when his fangs pierced her skin and convulsed as he pinned her to the wall as an orgasm tore through her. Trapped, she had no choice but to ride out the sensations, to take what he wanted to give her. Both hands were on her hips now, forcing her back as he drove forward. His thrusts were borderline violent, his grip becoming painful as the tips of his claws extended and broke the surface of her skin.
“Going to come so hard,” he snarled around her shoulder, the words garbled. “Your cunt feels so fucking good gripping my cock.”
Then he was spilling inside her, the heat of his seed bathing and coating her womb. Exotic scents of male, musk and animal suffused the air and she shivered as another, smaller climax washed over her and she lost her grip on the wall, her water-slick torso sliding limply against the ceramic tile. Diskant’s hand came around to hold her steady as he continued to pump his hips and release into her, the head of his penis pressing into the softness of her cervix once—then again—before finally going still.
His teeth slid free of her ravaged skin at the same time his shaft slid from her body.
“That’s so good,” he groaned and began lapping at the area he’d bitten, soothing the aching burn with his tongue.
A nod of acquiescence was all she could manage. Her entire body was soaring, floating off the high gained by a rip-roaringly good orgasm. He lowered her feet to the floor and though she worried she might stumble, her legs somehow managed to remain steady. Two good twists of the faucets, courtesy of Diskant, and the flow of the shower ebbed and stopped, leaving them coated in nothing more than a thick steam and cooling beads of water.
Grasping her shoulders tenderly with now claw-free fingers, he turned her around and dropped to a knee. Wrapping his hand around her upper thighs, he drew her close and began lavishing the same attention on the thin scratches along her hips and abdomen as he had the punctures at her throat. She shivered at the contact of his tongue, closing her eyes and basking the afterglow of climax.
“Let’s get some food in you.” He pressed a kiss to her navel before rising to his full height. She lifted her chin, following the line of his muscular thighs, drifting past the sinewy six-pack and wide chest with a scattering of hair until she gazed into his face.
He was huge—huge and impressive. The eyes that met hers were their usual tawny-gold color, his dark brows drawn down as he observed her closely.
“What?” she asked self-consciously and forced herself to remain still.
“How do you feel?” He lifted both his hands and cradled her biceps, stroking her arms with tender fingers.
She grinned, playful despite the unfamiliar calm that blanketed her. “Fishing for compliments?”
The serious expression evaporated and he returned her grin. “What if I am?”
She shrugged, enjoying the way his still-moist fingers felt against her steamy skin. “I wouldn’t suggest holding your breath.”
“Minx.”
He snagged her under the knees with one hand, placed the other around her back and lifted her effortlessly into his chest. The heat from his skin surrounded her, providing a barrier from the chill of the bathroom that wafted toward them when he opened the shower door and stepped out.
Brushing aside her protests, he toweled her body dry and didn’t move away until she began the tedious task of sliding into her cigarette-reeking clothes, starting with her slacks sans underwear. She held her breath as she reached for her shirt, trying not to choke. Normally the smell wasn’t so obvious or so offensive. As if he sensed her discomfort, Diskant moved in front of her and hoisted his sweatshirt over her head.
“Arms up,” he instructed and slid the garment down her torso when she did as he asked. Her head popped through the collar and he grinned as her hair scattered in all directions, a few wisps falling across her forehead.
“What are you grinning at?” She scowled, shoved the too-long sleeves to her elbows and combed her fingers through her mop of hair.
“Not a thing,” he answered evasively and slid into a pair of well-worn jeans, going commando.
She watched the teeth of the zipper slide past tanned skin and the thatch of ebony hair and experienced a fresh wave of desire. That zipper was going in the wrong direction entirely. In fact, she’d love nothing more than to rip the denim off his hips, fall to her knees and give him a proper good morning…
“I hope you’re hungry. I made breakfast for lunch.”
“Breakfast for lunch?” She shook her head clear of the sexual fog. “What time is it?”
“It was a quarter to two when I came upstairs.”
Her stomach sank and all sexual thought dissipated.
Two o’clock? Damn!
She rushed out of the bathroom, chanting “shoes, shoes, shoes”, aware of Diskant’s baffled expression, which quickly became impatient. After she retrieved her socks and sneakers, she perched on the edge of the mattress and hurriedly put them on. She never slept late, always able to rely on the inner cuckoo clock that roused her just after seven each morning. It figured she’d break from the norm when it came to something important. If she was late to sign the papers, Thomas wouldn’t stick around. He would take the deed to the cabin and shop it elsewhere.
Thomas waited for no one—including family and especially her.
One hour was all she had to travel from the Upper East Side to Maybelle’s Diner in Queens. There was a slim chance she could make it if she got a taxi, paid extra for a bit of speed and went directly there. She started to look for her purse and cursed. Her cell was in her pants, as were her keys, but her money was inside her locker at work. She didn’t have the fare to pay for the trip.
“Do you think you’re going somewhere?” Diskant didn’t pose the question in a manner that implied he would accept anything less than an answer.
She quickly tied the laces. “I’m supposed to meet someone in less than an hour.”
“Can you call and postpone?” Damn he sounded intense when he was annoyed, like a wild bear coming across a lone hunter in the woods.
Shaking her head, she stood. “No. Thomas won’t stick around if I’m not there when I promised to be, and he won’t answer his cell just to spite me. I need to call a cab. Do you think you can spot me the fare? I can pay you—”