MacRieve

TWENTY-TWO

MacRieve’s head thrashed, sweat slicking all his tightened muscles. His legs quaked around her ears as that bulge of seed in his shaft climbed all the way to the top.

She’d rendered him this way. This was her doing. Pride and arousal warred inside her, along with a tenderness for this man that shocked her in its strength. He’s mine.

When his hips bucked too wildly, Chloe’s nails sank into them, holding him still.

“Fuck, fuck! You want me tae come harder than I ever have?” His accent was so thick. “Then doona stop, baby, just doona—ahhh!” His back bowed.

Heat spurted into her mouth as he roared her name. She jerked at her first taste, as if lightning had struck. How could anything be this delicious? She felt as if she’d waited forever to taste him. When she swallowed his semen down, energy seemed to fill her, like currents racing through her veins.

Panting around the head, nearly delirious, she drew even deeper. My man, my man . . . mine.

Her scalp began to tingle. She saw tracers in her vision. Shivers danced over her damp skin.

His heartbeat thundered like earthquakes in her sensitive ears.

And when he was spent, he put his palm atop her head to stay her. But she was reluctant to end an experience like this, kept tonguing him.

Though he shuddered violently with each of her lingering licks, he didn’t stop her. “I think I’m in a dream.” He reached out his straightened arms, cupping her face. “Just came till my eyes rolled back in my head, and my mate is lapping at me like a kitten with cream.”

He was grinning. Her heart twisted in her chest. He was the most handsome male she’d ever seen. A golden-eyed Scottish sex god. And he wanted her. Forever.

She grinned back, excitement seizing her. Because she suspected she would come to want him for just as long.

Again they were smiling at each other like they’d pulled off some kind of coup.

At that moment, she thought, Why would I ever let him go?

Will lay stupefied, legs sprawled around her body.

Chloe had just sucked him till he’d seen stars, and now his beautiful mate was licking him clean. As he gazed down in awe, she continued to kiss and nuzzle until he was hardening again.

Never had he been pleasured so profoundly. Which was something for a nine-hundred-year-old to recognize. He was proud of his control—and completely enamored with his mate. “Looks like we’ve found something Chloe genuinely enjoys.”

“I loved it.”

“And it loved you, mo chridhe.”

“What did you call me?”

“My heart. Now for your turn.”

“Hmmm?” she murmured against the tip, her breaths tickling him. When he drew her away, she cried, “Hey, I wasn’t finished.”

“It’s no’ going anywhere, love.” He turned her over on her back, spreading her legs. Found her gaze locked on his mouth. “Ah, Chloe, your heart speeds up when you look at my mouth. Because you know what I’m about tae do with it.” She’s mine. And I’ll take her. Just not completely. Keep the beast in check.

“I’m goin’ tae make you come till you ride my tongue like a wanton. Because that’s what you are.”

“What does that mean?” she asked in a throaty voice that sent blood rushing to his shaft again.

“It means you were made for me.” He started kissing down her neck, intending to blaze a trail all the way to her toes and back.

Suddenly he stilled.

“MacRieve? Is this more of your teasing? I’m already about to die!”

Another scent was now coursing through his consciousness. He gave himself an inward shake. Flashback? Memory of a nightmare?

Chloe was rocking her hips against his torso when he scented something he’d hoped never to smell again.

Succubae. Close. He inhaled deeply, the scent getting stronger and stronger. Gods, they’ve gotten inside the wall! Were they here for revenge? Or to steal Chloe for the Pravus?

With a bitter curse, he dove for his pants, snatching them up over his cock. “Get dressed now!” He tossed his shirt to her.

“What?” She pulled it over her head. “What’s going on, MacRieve?”

Dressed enough! He grabbed her, securing her in his arms as he lunged for the bedroom door—

He froze, all his muscles tensing. He slowly drew back to stare down at her eyes. They . . . glowed green. Her hair was lengthening by the second. Claws tipped each of her fingers.

“No, no. This is no’ happening.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

This was no mortal in his arms; she was a succubus. My mate . . . my mate is one of their ilk.

Bile rose in his throat. She’d just fed. Off of him!

Though he’d vowed to the gods that he would rather die than feed one of those vile creatures again, he’d allowed this parasite to play him, seduce him, then harvest his seed.

Canna do this, canna handle this—

The beast rose, roaring free.