"He'll kill me for this," Kristoff said hoarsely as I arched my back. His head dipped down, kissing a hot line along the upper slopes of my chest. He stopped for a moment, his breath coming fast as I pulled off my shirt and reached behind to unhook my bra, his groan of pleasure echoing mine when his mouth descended again. "To hell with it. You taste too good…"
"Too much talking, not enough biting," I said, moving restlessly against him. I wanted more, wanted him inside me, wanted him drinking from me, wanted that amazing sensation of sharing that we had the previous time he fed off me.
He kissed a path over to my shoulder, moving a bit down my upper arm, his tongue painting a hot brand along my flesh.
"You're sure," he asked, his voice sounding as rough as his breathing in the confined space.
I thought of Alec, locked in an identical room just a few yards away, thought about what he meant to me, and what I apparently meant to him. I thought about how he made me feel wanted, cherished, even loved. Kristoff didn't want me, didn't want anything from me but satisfaction for the sexual itch that we seemed to share, and he certainly didn't need me. He was bound to his grief, and I suspected that I simply filled the role of physical relief, and yet, I felt closer to him than I did to the man with whom I might very likely spend the rest of my life as his Beloved.
I thought about all of that in the space between heartbeats, and wrapped my arms around his head. "I'm sure."
The pain was fleeting, a momentary burning sensation that was quickly lost in sweeping pleasure. Kristoff moaned as he drank deeply, the sensation of that winding me up tighter than I had ever been. I moved against him, wanting his touch, mindless to everything but the sensations that were rippling through me like waves.
"Pia…" His tongue lathed a spot on my arm.
I felt the need in him, a need not just for my blood, but one that was instantly answered by my body. I was wound tighter than a clockwork, and felt like I might explode at any second.
"Well ahead of you," I said, sliding back on his legs to find his buckle and zipper. He lifted his hips slightly as I made frantic little noises while struggling with the former. At last I got the zipper down, not at all surprised to find him hot and hard and clearly as aroused as I was. I held him in my hands, enjoying the unabashed groans of ecstasy my touch drew from him.
Another need burned through me, one I couldn't help but give in to. He made a distressed noise as I rose off his lap, but that quickly changed to an unintelligible gurgle as I knelt and tentatively took him in my mouth, the sensation flooding my mind with rapturous images that drove out all other thoughts.
All of them but one—I'd used him for my own satisfaction the night before, selfishly used him even though I knew he was still mourning his lost love. I wouldn't do that again.
"Pia, I don't think I'm going to last if you keep doing that," he warned, the huskiness of his voice sliding along me like velvet on bare skin.
"I want to give you pleasure, Kristoff," I murmured against the base of his penis, setting a rhythm that had his hips moving with quickening pace. "To thank you for what you gave me the other night."
He sucked in a huge amount of air as I let my tongue curl around the sensitive underside of his penis, the muscles of his thighs as hard as cement beneath my hands.
"Stop," he cried, his legs tightening. "Dammit, I wish my hands were free. You don't owe me any thanks. We gave each other pleasure, and we will do so again."
There was a command in his voice, an order that had me smiling against the velvety tip of him. He understood what I was offering. "I think it's my turn to ask you if you're sure," I asked, giving him a swipe of my tongue.
His muscles trembled with strain. "Quite sure."
"Will you be grossed out if I kiss you?" I asked as I rose, quickly removing my jeans and underwear before straddling his legs again. At least I wouldn't have to worry about him seeing all my pudgy parts.
"Try me," he growled.
His mouth was as hot on mine as it had been on my arm, his tongue the same bossy tongue that immediately charged into my mouth and set about pushing me over the edge of tolerance.
I positioned him and sank down slowly, the movement making us both moan.
"Do you have any idea," I gasped as he slid in another inch, my body gripping him tightly as he invaded delicate, sensitive parts, "any idea how good that feels?"
"Hrng," he answered, his head lolled back as I flexed my hips. I leaned forward and kissed his neck, smiling as I nibbled my way up to nip his earlobe. "Christ, woman! Do that swivel again."
I swiveled. He made a noise from somewhere deep in his chest, a primitive sort of noise, a mating noise, one that seemed to thrum through me as I moved against him. That was all it took—that noise, and the feel of him so deep inside me, and the wave after wave of exhilaration that wound me even tighter until I teetered at the edge of a climax.
His teeth pierced the skin behind my ear, the burn racing through my body, setting me alight and pushing me over the edge. I clutched at his shoulders, shaking with the strength of the climax even as he cried against my neck, his sensations pushing me beyond awareness into a new place, something made up of the two of us.
I collapsed against him, almost sobbing with the euphoria of the moment, confused about what I'd just experienced. This was beyond normal sex, beyond even incredibly fabulous sex. What we'd just done was earth-shattering, profoundly momentous in a way I couldn't begin to understand, but disturbed as I was, I knew one thing for certain—I would die before I let the Brotherhood people sacrifice the man in my arms.
I had to get him out, get Alec and him both out, and away from Kristjana. Frederic and Mattias might be reasoned with, but I knew with chilling conviction that Kristjana wouldn't be happy until both vampires were dead.
I just wouldn't let that happen.
"Heea."
A voice, muffled and indistinct, reached my ears. I drifted on a cloud of post-orgasmic insensibility, finally realizing that the word spoken was my name.
"What?" I asked, too boneless to move. I had collapsed onto Kristoff, and was draped across him now, his face smashed into my breasts, my knees still gripping his hips.
"Mrrphm reef."
"What?" I asked, pulling back in order to hear him better.
"I couldn't breathe," he said, a slight edge of amusement in his voice.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't think about you breathing." I scooted off him, groping around on the ground to find my clothing. "That is, I didn't think about the fact that my boobs were smothering you. Are you all right?"
"Yes."
"Full? Or do you need another go-round?" I pulled on my clothing, my face flaming for no good reason. Yes, I'd just had the best sex of my entire life, but it was with a man who saw me as nothing more than an annoyance who could occasionally scratch an itch—or fulfill a hunger. There was no cause for me to be blushing like a virgin.
"That was quite sufficient, thank you," he said politely, but the humor was gone from his voice, replaced by a flinty note that made me, for some reason, want to throw something large at his head. Or cry. Possibly both.
Sufficient, my shiny white ass! Once again I was left swearing that if that was the way he wanted to deal with the fact that we had quite possibly the best sex in the entire history of the world, then I would certainly not disillusion him.
Sufficient. The bastard.
I was formulating an extremely cutting comeback when there was a noise at the door.
"Zorya Pia? Are you there?"
A crack of light appeared along the edges of the doorway.
"Mattias?" I asked, astonished.
The door was pulled open a few inches. Mattias's eyeball was applied to the open space. "Has the Dark One turned you?"