Black Dagger Brotherhood 11 - Lover at Last

fun and games. Zypher was just orgasming, his body bowing forward while his head kicked back—and in the midst of his release, one of the cousins was shovinghim out of the way, taking his place, lifting the hips of the female and digging his arousal into her wet, pink sex. At least Zypher seemed entirely content to trade places; he beared his fangs, ducked his head under the now-heaving chest of his comrade, and nipped the breast of the female so he could feed close to her nipple.
    The one at her mouth orgasmed as well, and she swallowed his release, sucking the head of the fighter’s cock in desperate pulls, then letting go and licking at her slick mouth as if she were still hungry. Somebody else soon obliged, yet another arousal plunging in between her lips, the counterthrusting rhythm of what was going on at her head as well as between her legs bouncing her back and forth in a way she seemed to get off on.
    Xcor went over and double-checked the bathroom, but his first assessment had been correct: There was nowhere to hide in its tight confines.
    Having secured the interior, he had naught to do but lean back against the corner that offered the greatest visual access and witness the feeding. As things intensified, his fighters lost what semblance of civility they had, taking swipes at one another as lions would over a fresh kill, their fangs flashing, their eyes wild with aggression as they jockeyed for access. They did not completely lose their heads, however. And they took care of the female.
    Soon enough, someone scored his vein and put it to her lips.
    Xcor dropped his eyes to his boots and allowed his peripheral vision to monitor the environs.
    There was a time when he would have become aroused at the sight—not because he was particularly interested in the sex, but more in the same manner that when he saw food, his stomach would grumble. And accordingly, in the past, when he had had the need to take a female, he had done just that. Usually in the dark, of course, so the dear girl wouldn’t be offended or afeared.
    He could well imagine the strained expressions males sported when they were in their erotic throes did little to improve his looks.
    Now, though? He felt curiously unplugged from it all, as if he were watching a team of males move some heavy furniture or perhaps rake a lawn.
    It was his Chosen, of course.
    Having had his lips against her pure skin, having looked into her luminous green eyes, having smelled her delicate scent, he was utterlyuninterested in the well-used charms of that female in front of the fire.
    Oh, his Chosen…he had never known such grace existed, and moreover, he could not have e’er surmised that he would be touched so completely by that which was antithetical to him. She was his opposite, kind and giving when he was brutal and unforgiving, beautiful to his ugliness, ethereal to his filth.
    And she had marked him. Sure as if she had struck him and left a scar deep within his flesh, he was wounded and weakened by her.
    There was naught to be done.
    Lo, even the memory of the moments he had shared with her, when she had been fully clothed, and he had been so gravely injured, were enough to stir him at his hips, his sorry sex stiffening for no good reason a’tall: Even if they had not been on different sides of the war for the throne, she would never have let him come to her as a male does when he is enthralled with a female of worth. That breezy autumn night when they had met under that tree, she had been performing a valid service in her own mind. It had naught to do with him in particular.
    But oh, he wanted her nonetheless….
    Abruptly, the female before the fire arched under the shifting, orgasming weights atop her, and he refocused on her. As if she sensed his sexual arousal, her blissed-out, fuzzy stare drifted over in his direction, and brief surprise flickered across her face—or what little he could see of it around the thick forearm offering her nourishment.
    Shock widened her eyes. She evidently had failed to notice his presence—but now that she had, fear, not passion, clearly flared within her.
    Unwilling to disrupt the action, he shook his head and flashed her his palm in a stop motion to reassure her that she was not going to have to bear his bite—or worse, his sex.
    The messaging apparently worked, because the dread left her expression, and as one of his soldiers presented his cock for attention, she reached out and began stroking it over her