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His body started to hum with increased desire, but he had to hold back so he slowed things down, which left her panting. Finally, he stopped and leaned close to lick up the side of her neck.
“Yes, sweet Goddess, yes,” she whispered. “I’ve been wanting this from the time you trapped me in the gallery.”
“Same here.”
He tilted his head, then released his fangs. Saliva dripped. He struck quickly creating two punctures then retracted his fangs and began to drink.
He had Batya in the most vulnerable position possible, his mouth sucking down her blood, his c**k buried deep. His body shook with pleasure and just for her, he started up the vibrations she liked so much, pulling his c**k slowly toward her entrance then pushing back in.
Her body convulsed and a series of achy sighs left her throat.
So much pleasure, Quinlan. I could die like this.
He wanted to respond, but couldn’t. His body had locked onto its target and as he drank down her blood, and drove into her, his h*ps took over.
Yet somewhere in the center of his being, he felt his mating frequency join with the pure sexual vibration he’d developed so long ago, and a fire burned through him.
He pounded now, sucking hard at her neck, his mating frequency seeking entrance.
Let me in.
Your voice sounds hoarse, even inside my head.
Cha, let me in. Sweet Goddess, I want inside your frequency.
I want to, but is this wise?
He didn’t care. He kept pushing and his balls were so tight. Still, he wanted all of her.
Let me in.
He felt her give way, so he rushed inside and that pushed him over the edge. He released her neck and rose up shouting as his body rocked and pleasure streaked through him.
But it was the frequency joining that kept sending thrills up his cock, his abdomen, his chest, and that kept him shouting and coming, releasing all that he had into her.
Somewhere he felt her body writhing and heard her crying out then screaming as she came. His vibrations were a heavy pulse through him and at the same time through her body.
He eased back but he wasn’t done. He continued to thrust into her, stroking her, feeling her.
“Look at me.”
She opened her eyes. She looked almost panic-stricken.
Quinlan, my God.
“I’m going to make you cl**ax again.”
Her neck arched and he pumped her harder, his body winding up once more.
“Faster,” she called out.
He didn’t hold back, but pumped into her with his warrior strength, his vibrations at full bore, his mating frequency inside her own, possessing her, conquering her yet again.
“Oh, God.” She arched her neck and screamed, clutching at his biceps, digging her fingernails in and it felt so good.
Pleasure rushed through his c**k once more and his shouts lifted to the rafters of his stronghold all over again, the cry of dominance, of command, of having his woman beneath him, whose blood eased him, whose blood took away the cramping.
In stages, his h*ps settled down. Her hands swept over his arms, his shoulders, his back, the way his hand had moved over the map earlier, a kind of claiming of her own, her land, her territory, his body.
And right now he was exactly that, without reservation.
He rested on top of her, his head joining hers on the pillow. She slid her arms around him and held him fast. She breathed hard, catching her breath. He did as well.
He remained joined to her, his c**k inside and both frequencies bathing in what he perceived was the warm nest of all that she was as fae and troll in their world of vibrations.
* * * * * * * * *
Batya lay beneath the wonderful weight of Quinlan’s vampire, Guard-sized body. She’d never really made love before, or had sex before, that’s what she decided.
Quinlan had done exactly what he’d been promising for the past several weeks. He’d given her the ride of her life.
And she wanted more, the greedy fae-troll that she was. Oh, Sweet Goddess, had he just ruined her for other men? How could sex ever be the same for her? And the way he’d broken down her mating frequency shield—she’d come hard with that one. His vibration had streamed through in a way that sent pleasure all the way to her fingers and to her feet, rushing back and forth in heavy waves up her body then back down. And the whole time ecstasy had been a thrill inside her where he’d plunged in and out with vampire speed.
Ah, well, he’d definitely ruined her, but it had been so worth it.
Yet a small ignoble part of her needed revenge. If he’d ruined her, then at some point on this journey to Ferrenden Peace, she intended to do whatever she could from her vast array of fae-trollness to serve him with his own sauce and to take him down.
The mere thought of it, of bringing Quinlan to heel, lightened her heart, so much so, that with her arms wrapped around the big bastard from Grochaire, with his c**k tucked inside her, she fell contentedly asleep.
She slept hard, her dreams barely there, just faint distant images held back by a pleasant mist.
She slept and slept. When she finally awoke, she had a soft linen cloth pressed between her legs and a warm fur tucked up snug against her bare body. Oblique northern light lit the space, which told her a new day had broken or more likely, was about to end. She’d no doubt slept the day away.
But where was Quinlan?
Hey, she pathed softly, reaching for him.
I’m with my stronghold brigade. Bathe if you like, ring for your first meal. Anthea is an excellent cook.
Do you need me?
No, not yet, but soon. Take care of your needs first. We’ll be traveling at full dark.
Got it. Thanks. She closed down immediately because she had felt the tension in his voice, even a sense of urgency.
She saw that her flowered satchel sat just inside the door and a funny sense of relief struck her. A woman always needed her things close by.
She showered and dressed in jeans, a tank and a long-sleeved sweater, socks and running shoes. By now she felt urgent as well. Knowing Margetta’s level of power, she would have divined something about where her daughter meant to go, that she’d enlisted Quinlan to help her, and just what kind of force she’d need to destroy the enemy.
She found Lorelei and Anthea in the kitchen, on adjacent stools at a large island of black marble. Each sat in the same position with elbows on the marble, hands cradling coffee mugs.
“Oh, coffee. No, don’t get up. I can see the cups and you have everything ready.”
She helped herself, filling a heavy red mug three quarters full, then adding two teaspoons of sugar and enough cream to create the exact shade of caramel that she preferred. She took a sip and her lips parted. “Anthea, this is the best.”
