Jeaniene Frost - One Grave at a Time

“I hated myself more.” Another whisper, but this one he heard. “You showed me how to accept myself, and I loved you long before I could admit it to you.”

His head dipped, cool lips covering my own. I opened my mouth, seeking his taste, moaning at the velvety softness of his tongue and the two sharp fangs that now protruded from his teeth. Mine slid out as well, grazing his when our kiss deepened, and he slanted his mouth over mine.

His power enveloped me, brushing along my senses with a depth that went well beyond lust. Our tongues twined together, that intimate dance sending waves of sensation through my nerve endings. I slid my leg around his hips, rubbing against him in silent, hungry invitation. His hand moved lower, clasping me closer, and the friction when he arched his hips made starbursts go off in my loins. His body was so hard, so sleek, so filled with pulsating energy, and the cradle of wind against us only aroused me more. This wouldn’t be like those stolen moments in the cellar with Tyler in the pantry at the top of the stairs and an angry ghost hurling threats and curses outside. This moment was ours, and we had as far as we could fly in the wide-open expanse of sky to savor it.

Unless, of course, this sort of thing couldn’t be done while flying. From the thick length pressing against me combined with the devastating way Bones rocked his hips, he wasn’t teasing. He had more than enough power to keep us aloft, but flying also required concentration. I didn’t think I was supporting myself in the air any longer. I was too focused on the sensual way his tongue tangled with mine and the bursts of pleasure that unfurled every time that bulge rubbed my clitoris. I’d probably have tumbled right out of the sky if not for his arms around me.

Even if he could keep us in the air the whole time, that had its own set of complications. Bashing into some small private aircraft because Bones’s attention was focused on the radar below his waist instead of what was around us would be tragic for everyone. Maybe seeking out a spot in one of the fields below was the best idea. Yet there was something electrifying about touching each other while soaring through the air that made me want to stay up here.

“Is it possible . . . up here?” I asked, tearing my mouth away from his.

“Yes.” A fervent hiss that spiked my desire.

I pulled his head down again, everything in me tensing with expectation when he reached inside my jeans, his other arm still supporting me. Then a moan tore from my throat at his fingers seeking out all the spots that made me burn. I arched against him, gasps spilling out between our kisses, reaching down to grab that lusciously hard flesh beneath his zipper. It overflowed my hand, too thick to close my fingers around, pulsing with his power and the blood Bones directed there. I rubbed him in time to the same rhythmic strokes he used, his mouth absorbing my wordless cries.

That sweet inner ache became more intense with every penetrating stroke of his fingers. I wanted him inside me, but the more I opened my legs, the higher it made my jeans ride up.

“I want you now, Kitten,” he growled, biting my lower lip and sucking the twin drops of blood his fangs drew. Then he raked his tongue across his fangs before closing his mouth over mine, flavoring our kiss with the ambrosia of his blood.

In a smooth motion, Bones flipped me over. His arm crossed between my breasts to support my upper body, and he hooked his feet around my ankles to keep my legs from dangling. Then he brushed my wildly whipping hair back to kiss my throat, using his free hand to tug my jeans and panties down to my thighs. The blast of frigid air on my most sensitive parts was forgotten when I felt the probe of hard flesh behind me. Bones reached down, guiding that long, thick length to my center. I gasped, arching back against him, mentally cursing the bunched material around my thighs that prevented me from opening myself wider to him.

His mouth sealed over the spot on my neck that would be madly jumping with my pulse if I still had one. I rocked back again, trying to encase him inside me, frustration and rapture building when he only teased me with the head of his cock.

“Open your eyes,” he urged me, the words vibrating against my throat.

I didn’t know how he knew I’d closed them—I was facing the other way—but I opened them as asked. Between the red whips of my hair, I saw vast cornfields spread out beneath us, darker and less distinct from our height, but noticeably swaying in the breeze. They were more stunning viewed from above because the distance hid the sight of drying husks and cracked stalks, making them look like miles of an undulating, golden ocean. Seeing those gently swaying fields filled me with a form of peace I hadn’t felt in a while. My roots came from the country, not from concrete or asphalt jungles, and up here, there were no ghosts chasing us, literally or metaphorically.

The sheer splendor of the sight made my chest tighten and tears sting my eyes. All the darkness lately made it easy to forget the world contained more than people trying to hurt other people. It had beauty, too, if you knew where to look—and remembered to open your eyes. Bones’s mouth continued to caress my neck, making me shiver with a longing both passionate and poignant. I could feel his hunger in more than the hard length of flesh intimately pressed against me. His aura surrounded me, passion and need combining to scorch my senses, but he’d waited to take me until I saw something that he knew, somehow, would heal a piece of me I hadn’t known was broken.

There were words for what he meant to me, but if I studied every language ever spoken for the next thousand years, I still wouldn’t find enough of them to describe it.

I reached down, clasping my hands around his and squeezing, wishing he could still read my mind so he’d know even a portion of what I couldn’t put into sentences. His lips moved against my throat in what felt like a smile.

“I love you, Kitten,” he whispered.

I was about to reply in kind, but only a gasp came out because he sank his fangs into my neck while thrusting deeply at the same time. The double impact ignited my senses, setting my nerve endings ablaze. The grip I had on his hands tightened, more ragged noises escaping me as he pulled out very, very slowly—and then thrust forward hard enough to wring a shout from me.

Vampire body heat didn’t rise, and the cold air around us probably meant I’d clock in under room temperature; nonetheless, I felt like I grew warmer. Another tantalizingly slow withdrawal built that sensation of heat, and when it was followed by a swift, deep thrust, I felt like my skin would start to spark. The puddle of material around my thighs kept my legs together, but that meant I could grip him tighter, and I did. The extra swell of pleasure cresting over my emotions let me know how much he liked that, so I kept doing it, squeezing him with every muscle I had when his flesh slid out inch by achingly unhurried inch.

“Don’t. Stop,” he growled.

I tried to keep my eyes open, to look at the stunning canvas we were soaring above, but the mounting ecstasy kept dragging them shut. It built, drawing from the slightest movement of his body as well as those fierce, rapturous thrusts, until my entire body shuddered from the intensity. His arms were like steel bands around me, molding me to him hard enough to bruise, but I wanted him to hold me even closer. Each slide of his fangs into my neck seemed to send more heat through me, each thrust coiling the pleasure tighter in my loins. I didn’t want him to stop, either. I needed to feel his flesh merging into mine, tried to hold him there with every clench of my thighs and inner muscles. His groans inflamed me, but that was nothing compared to his aura raking through me, merging his feelings with mine. Through that, I knew exactly when to move faster. When to let go of his hands and grip his hips to hold him to me, then I knew nothing except shattering ecstasy when he lost control and took me over the edge with him.