Immortals After Dark 12 - Lothaire

gradually slid shut.
    His kiss grew more forceful. Unrestrained. Ravenous. The sensations deepened, stronger and stronger as he snarled against her.
    The coil tightened until . . .
    She screamed. “Ahhh, Lothaire! My God!”
    Stunning. Ecstasy. With mind-numbing spasms, her sex gripped his finger again and again.
    She sat up with a low moan, clutching his hair, rubbing her flesh against his tongue as he caressed her so deep inside.

    Wicked, how she moves!
    With his fist flying up and down over his cock, Lothaire growled between each hungry lick at her glistening, slippery lips.
    Her orgasm drenched his tongue. He licked her harder. Still not enough, not enough. The taste of her had to last him for eternity.
    She tried to press him away; he wasn’t to be denied. Soon, she screamed again.
    His female wasn’t done yet. When her thighs closed around his head as she bucked . . .
    Too much. At once, come exploded from him as he began to ejaculate on the floor.
    His seed shot free in waves, pooling beneath him as he licked and licked her orgasms.
    When he was spent at last and she’d wriggled from his mouth, he fought to catch his breath. He didn’t trust his legs to stand, so he leisurely kissed her thighs before tracing into the bed. There, he lay back, drawing her to him.
    She will curl up next to me, all but purring with contentment as she wraps an arm over my chest and smooths her leg up over my own. I’ll tuck her close, then she’ll fall asleep in my arms. Fitting me—
    Elizabeth burst into tears, covering her face with her hands.
    “What is this ?” Aghast, he pried her hands from her face. “Are you still hurting?”
    “Nooo,” she cried miserably. “I-I just want to go to my room.”
    His ego was taking hit after hit this night. My Bride doesn’t want me, and when I pleasure my mistress, the female weeps in anguish.
    He’d known he was out of practice, but this was ridiculous. “Then what in the hell are you crying for?”
    “You’re really g-going to do it. You have every intention of casting my soul out.”
    “Why are you only now accepting this?”
    “Th-this was my consolation prize. You wanted me to have that pleasure as a parting gift. Thanks for playing, Elizabeth? But game over?”
    He clasped his forehead. Because she was probably right. And a couple of orgasms couldn’t atone for what he was about to do to her.
    Nothing could.
    Tears streaked down her cheeks. “But we . . . but surely this isn’t something that everyone experiences together. You have to feel something for me.”
    In a toneless voice, he said, “Whether I do or don’t is immaterial. I use people and I discard them. That’s what I’ve always done.”
    “Have you ever discarded someone and then regretted it?”
    “Never.”
    “But you will with me .” She ran her forearm over her eyes. “I could make you happy, Lothaire. You’re going to realize what you had too late.”
    His brows drew together. Hadn’t Ivana yelled the same thing to his father?
    Lothaire gingerly pressed Elizabeth’s head to his chest, rubbing his other palm over her lower back as he enfolded her in his arms. Strangely, she let him, even clutched him closer.
    “You kidnapped me. You’re g-going to kill me. Why am I letting you comfort me?”
    He stared over her head. Because I’ve made sure you have no one else to turn to.
    “Everything between us is sick . . . twisted. And it doesn’t have to be.”
    “Shh, shh.” He rocked her in his arms. Never had he comforted another in such a manner. He was awkward with this as well.
    “I h-hate you s-so much.” She sobbed so hard her body quaked against him, her tears wetting his chest.
    “I know.”
    “When I-I’m gone, will you . . . will you t-tell my children about me? Will you t-take care of them?”
    “Just be at ease for now, Elizabeth.”
    “Why couldn’t y-you and Saroya just leave m-me alone? I only ever w-wanted to live.”
    Why was this making his gut twist? Either he was developing a conscience, or Ellie Ann Peirce was his Bride.
    Both scenarios were ruinous to him. Because either one meant that it wouldn’t be Elizabeth who died—it would be him.
    The only way out of his vows to the Lore would be his own death.
    She’s not mine, she’s not mine. . . .

35
    L othaire’s bellows woke Ellie at dawn.
    She blinked, surprised to find herself naked—and in his bed with him, cradled in his arms. He was clad only in dark jeans, pressing her against his bared chest.
    How