Season of Solace. 172

172: The Master Bedroom, Crawford Street Mansion

There is no place safer than Angel’s arms. He holds her close, his embrace tender, yet possessive. Bodies spooning, their limbs tangle as they lay sleeping. Though they have spent the waning hours of the night making love, Cordelia still dreams about his touch.

The slightest brush of his fingertips against her skin is enough to stir her lust making her want him and everything he has to give. Tiny tremors quake inside anticipating more to come. Heat blooms beneath his cool touch stoking a fire inside that only he can assuage making him just as hot for her. With each smooth stroke her body reveals its secrets. He knows how to wind her up almost instantly, yet sometimes with deliberate patience, so slowly that she thinks she will go insane before he gives her what she wants.

His touch tantalizes as it trails across lines and curves following a seemingly random path in innocent territory. Only it does not feel innocent rousing desires she never knew she had. Her skin tingles in anticipation of those roaming fingers, impatience making her writhe against every contact point. He has not even kissed her yet, but need throbs low inside her. Everything aches for his touch, for the wet slide of his tongue over her skin, soft suction of his mouth, and the blunt pressure of his teeth nipping softly, intimately, everywhere.

Patience is something she has yet to learn, wanting it all, wanting him, now. The torture of waiting is too much. There is only so much she can take without touching him, too. It is as vital as needing him inside her. As verbal as she is, her touch is just one more way of communicating her feelings, imprinting them upon him with every caress.

A wanton whim makes her the aggressor turning in his arms to capture his mouth under hers. She tastes his smile, savoring the soft brush of his lips forming her name when she remembers to breathe. No two kisses the same, she craves more, taking them because she can, greedy for the way they can be tenderly sweet, loving, and electrifyingly hot all at once.

One random spark might make her explode. Pressing her small hands against his broad shoulders, she pushes up to straddle his waist, soaking up his strength as he restrains the urge to take charge again. Those brown eyes are dark, intense, penetrating her with every unspoken desire. She will give him anything and everything he wants because she is insatiable when it comes to Angel, and just as possessive about him as he is of her.

She wants him completely, not just the rampant proof of his desire nudging her bottom, thick with lust. His love fills her up in ways she cannot explain taking hold of her so that her need for him his just as vital as breathing. Wanting him is more than just a physical need, even though she craves the delicious thrust of him inside her. That hunger is easy to understand as she makes him moan for more, scraping her nails across his torso until she reaches her own body, trailing her touch across her inner thighs.

Teasingly, she touches herself willing her eyes to stay open to watch his expression even though the sensation of her fingers coasting along her slick flesh makes her want to slam her eyes shut. Angel licks his lips, his salacious gaze holding hers so that his stare makes her even wetter. His attention is all on her, hands gripping her thighs, kneading the firm flesh, both closing higher and higher, thumbs circling near to her center where her busy fingers rub a little more urgently.

Euphoria strikes like lightning at the simple slide of Angel’s fingers alongside hers, their combined touch setting her off. Her hips circle, sensations whirling as she arches and trembles to the slip slide of their fingers brushing against her, as Angel’s finally thrusts inside. As hot as that feels, it is not enough, wanting more, needing him to fill her up, taking root inside so they are never apart, and she is never alone.

They fit perfectly together as she rides him, impaling herself again and again, her back arching, his hips thrusting upward to her down strokes. No awkward mistimed moves at all, not with her manpire. Perfectly synchronized bounces counter delicious bangs that feel so good, so right. Each move sets off white-hot sparklers behind her tightly clenched eyelids. Riding him harder, faster, her strangled little cries fill the air.

Moments from climax, Angel calls out her name, a plea for understanding mixed with the strain of holding back. Opening her eyes, she sees the yellow tint suffuse his irises, the shifting of bone and skin across his face, and the appearance of jagged fangs, reminding her that he has other needs and desires.

He wants to bite her, leave a mark, and claim her as his own. Pain, the scar, whatever binding ties come with it, don’t frighten her half so much as the idea that they might be separated. The future is cloudy, confusing, and scary as hell.

Now is all that matters because she can feel the darkness closing in. Something is out there waiting to claim her as a sacrificial pawn. It terrifies her as it reaches out from the shadows, not with hands, but with its thoughts to stake a claim of its own. The Varstrae belong to no one else but him.

Cordelia jerks awake to the sound of her name finding Angel leaning over her. “You were dreaming.” He soothes her trembling body with his own, keeping her close, wrapping his arms a little more tightly around her, lips softly kissing her forehead.

A hot flush of crimson brightened her cheeks as she recalled, “I was dreaming about you.”

The confession brings on a frown. “Did I do something?”

“You? Only the good stuff. My dreams about you are always hot.”

Despite his confusion, Angel still managed to look smug. “Good. Likewise.”

The light bristles along his jaw felt prickly under her hand as she reached up to kiss him back. Cordelia pressed her lips to his trying to chase away his concerns, but Angel knew that distraction technique all too well. “You screamed my name. You were afraid.”

“Terrified,” she shuddered at the memory.

Describing the scary part of the dream to him, Cordelia watched emotions play across his handsome face. “Doesn’t matter how many prophets or seers claim you’re going to be sacrificed. Kalesh and Nicolau will have to go through me first, and they will not stop me from saving you. I will never let them hurt you.”

The vehemence with which he made his promise settled her frayed nerves chasing away any doubt. Snuggling close, a sigh escaped at the contentment found within his embrace reminding her again that no place could be safer than Angel’s arms.

Scene 173

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