Gena Showalter - Black and Blue

“Has anyone ever called you Dr. Hodad?” he growled.

“No. And what does that even mean, anyway?”

“Hands of death and destruction.”

“Ha! I like that name. You may continue to refer to me as Dr. Hodad.” She cleaned his chest, then her hands. “You lost a lot of blood.”

“This isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last.”

“You might need a transfu—”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “Arcadians do not share blood, and human blood wouldn’t help.”

“Why don’t you share blood within your own race?”

“It creates an unbreakable bond. Remember Dallas? He said the Arcadian king fed him blood to heal him. Now the agent is forced to do whatever Kyrin en Arr tells him to do.”

Ouch. Like Blue, Evie would rather die than become a slave.

“Close your eyes and get some sleep,” she said. She placed another soft, sweet kiss on his brow. “I can tell you’re weaker than you’re letting on because I can’t feel your power.”

He reached out and snagged her hand. “Don’t leave.”

She tugged gently at his earlobe. “I won’t. I’ll be here when you wake up. Because, bluestocking? There’s no place else I’d rather be.”

Blue awoke suddenly.

His body burned with desire, and he wasn’t sure why. At first. Then he realized he was in bed with Evie. Her back was pressed into his bare chest, his hand was under her shirt, his fingers splayed over her belly. Her ass was nestled against his throbbing erection.

He remembered how they’d gotten here. Pagan had shot him, and Evie had doctored him.

He remembered she’d confessed to not having had sex in three years. How she’d kissed his brow in a show of comfort. Twice.

Now he thought, Screw trying to earn her trust. Screw everything. I’m taking what’s mine.

Blue nuzzled the back of her neck and slid his hand to her breast, cupping the perfect little mound, kneading—and hissing as her nipple beaded for him. “Evie. Wake up for me, baby.”

A breathy moan left her, and she arched her back to stretch, pressing harder against his shaft. The pleasure . . . he groaned. Supplication for more.

“Evie. Now.”

She stiffened. Then she rolled to her back and peered up at him, those velvety brown eyes clearing, becoming more alert—and finally heating.

“Blue.” Not a question. A demand.

One he heeded. “We do this,” he said. And that was the one and only warning he would offer. He grabbed her shirt by the collar and ripped the material down the center. Her bra received the same treatment.

She uttered no protests. Even helped him discard the ruined fabric.

He practically dove on her, slamming his mouth against hers, thrusting his tongue deep, taking, taking everything. She met him with a thrust of her own, her delicious taste sending him into a maddened frenzy. But then, she always had that effect on him.

Have to have all of her. Finally.

He sucked on her bottom lip, holding on to it as long as possible as he drew away, then lowered his head to suckle and nip at her nipples, to flick his tongue back and forth, back and forth, and even to bite. Her nails dug into his scalp, as if to hold him where he was.

Oh, baby, nothing can pull me away.

Her knees rubbed against his hips, as if she couldn’t decide what to do with her legs. Then she planted her feet on the mattress and arched up, pressing her core against his erection. The increase of pleasure was almost too much, and yet, it wasn’t even close to being enough. His sense of urgency deepened.

Despising their clothing, but not wanting to take his hands from her breasts, he used his power to remove his jeans and underwear, then hers, jerking the garments away with only a thought and tossing them to the side. The cool air electrified him, washing over him and sensitizing every inch of him, all the more erotic as heated skin met heated skin . . . as his shaft met liquid fire.

He nearly lost what little control he had left.

Evie groaned. “Blue. Now.”

“Soon.” This time, he was going to learn all of her. Do everything. Play.

He cupped her between her legs and purred his approval. “So wet, baby.” He loved how aroused she became—and how quickly.

He teased her with a finger, and when she was riding it, trying to grind down on it, he fed her another one. All the while, her head thrashed from side to side. Her eyes were closed, her red lips moist and parted. He knew she was as lost in sensation as he was when he brought her close to the edge . . . then backed off . . . brought her close again . . . backed off.

“Blue!”

“Desperate?” He was. Sweat trickled from his temples. Never been strung this taut. But it was worth it to hear her moan and groan and beg. To watch her thrash.

“Ready.”

“Not yet.” He gave her a third finger, stretching her, this time preparing her for what was to come, and she gasped an unintelligible word. Her nails found their way to his back and scraped, drawing blood.

He’d wear the wounds with pride.

“Hurt?” he asked.

“A bit. But, ohhh. I need it.”

A beautiful plea from the indomitable Evie Black. “You’re going to give me everything.”

“Whatever you want.”

“ Everything . You asked for it once. Now I’m demanding it.” Unable to hold back any longer, he slid his fingers out of her. They both moaned at the loss. He wiped the wet across her lips and, as he bent down to lick it off, to kiss her deep and sure, he hooked her knees under his arms and positioned his shaft for entry.

“Yes! Please!”

He wanted to shove, hard and fast. He pushed in an inch. Then two.

So tight. So damn tight.

He gained another inch.

Then another, and another.

Panting, she stilled.

“Okay?”

“Feels so good. You’re so big.”

Killing me. “Gonna make it feel even better.” He reached between their bodies, found her little bundle of nerves, pressed and rubbed until her hips began to rock.

“Yes!” she cried. “Oh, yes.”

He thrust the rest of the way in, as hard and fast as he’d wanted, and she came instantly, arching her back and screaming his name.

He’d never felt anything as rapturous as her inner walls clenching on him. So perfect. “Tell me you can take a rough ride, baby.”

“Yes. Please, yes.”

Never get tired of hearing her say that word. He grabbed the headboard, pulled most of the way out of her, then slammed in with so much force the entire bed rattled. A picture crashed to the floor. And maybe his Arcadian powers had caused the furniture to levitate, because a lamp tumbled from the nightstand and shattered.

He would pay for the damage. Gladly.

He kept moving. In, out. In, out. The pressure must have mounted inside her, because she clutched at him, urging him to give it to her harder, faster. He couldn’t have stopped or slowed to save his life. Never had he been so overwhelmed, so overcome. So taken over, where only pleasure mattered.

Here. Now. This woman. Mine.

His rhythm became brutal and punishing. Exquisite. Evie grabbed him by the hair and tugged him down for another kiss. The moment their tongues met, she climaxed again, and as her inner walls squeezed him this second time, he joined her, coming, coming so hard. He roared, giving one last thrust, feeding her that last bit of his release, until finally he collapsed on top of her, utterly spent.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he realized he hadn’t moved, that he could be suffocating her with his heavy weight. Gathering her close, he rolled to his side. Sweat formed a slippery layer over both of their bodies, and neither of them could catch their breath.