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Vivienne didn’t protest much as he dragged her up to the bedroom, but once there, she launched into him. “What is wrong with you?” She paused and drew her arm away from him. He didn’t let go on the first tug, but when she tugged again, he did. His eyes narrowed to little slits. Crossing her arms before her chest, she stared him down. His gaze was no less hostile. Taking a deep breath, she decided to try a different approach, a calm one. “I said I was sorry.”
Vivienne gasped and blinked when he rapidly began pulling her clothing off. Her jacket was unzipped and tossed somewhere, her shirt was pulled over her head before she could so much as breathe. His face was a mask of concentration, his eyes that feral yellow.
“Conall,” she began in a placating manner, only to groan when a hand squeezed at her already sensitive breast through the thin material of her bra. He easily tossed that as well. He went to his knees before her, and rapidly tugged her pants and underwear off. An alarm went off in Vivienne’s head. He couldn’t—not today—
Mine.
Remaining where he was, he parted her legs and began a series of long, wicked licks that simply drove her wild. Vivienne stared down at his dark head between her thighs, alternating between groaning and shaking her head, between shock and impossible pleasure.
What is he doing—? That thought was cut off completely by a flick of his tongue directly over her bud. She would have fallen numerous times if not for his hands cupping her buttocks as his tongue lapped.
By the time he’d lowered her to the dark carpet, she could barely think of anything except his body, and the pungent spicy odor emanating from his skin. A strong hand gripped her waist, and then he was inside her. His thrusts were merciless, hard thrusts that had her digging her nails into his back, drawing blood. Still, she lifted her hips to receive him, holding him close as he marked her. That was what he was doing. Joined to him mentally and physically, she knew it.
His mouth caught hers and Vivienne moaned at the wild taste of herself on him. Her tongue lifted to caress his, and she felt the prick of his elongated canines. Blood filled their mouths, and they both moaned.
Conall lifted his head, locking his gaze on hers. They were still yellow, shining down on her.
“Conall,” she whispered, barely getting in enough air to form that word, and feeling a tremor rock through her body. He growled and lowered his head to her neck, sucking and biting against a tender spot. She cried out and felt a powerful orgasm wrack her body. It seemed to sneak up on her, leaving tremors that literally shook her.
His thrusts grew harder—Vivienne hadn’t thought it possible—and she closed her eyes, surprised and slightly terrified at the intensity. Without breaking pace, the hand at her waist moved lower until it was wrapped around her knee, pulling her leg forward, so that her calf lay horizontal to his body. She felt herself stretch to take him and whimpered, nails digging even deeper into his back. Leaning down, he nipped at her shoulder and continued his quick, hard thrusts. Vivienne felt another orgasm approaching, and the bite he placed at her shoulder sent her over the edge. In the distance, she heard the equivalence of a snarl, a growl, as she sobbed out his name. That was the last thing she remembered until she woke up on the bed with Conall’s arms around her.
***
Conall stared down at her, a sheepish, concerned expression on his handsome face. His hair was damp and his eyes had returned to their usual blue.
“I’m sorry, alainn,” he began, only to have her lift her arms above her head and stretch cautiously.
Her muscles were tense, there was a slight soreness between her legs, and she could still feel the imprint of his hands against her waist. “Why are you sorry?” she asked, almost as an afterthought.
“I lost control and I frightened you,” he said, moving away from her as if he expected an outburst. Yes, he’d lost control, more than the previous times, and yes, he’d scared her with it. Without lifting her arm to her nose, she knew his scent was inside of her, that anyone passing would catch it.
“Yes,” she replied, nodding as she did so.
“I—did I hurt you?” He looked and sounded unsure. Vivienne took pity on him, rolling toward him and lightly touching her palms to his chest.
“You told me you’d never hurt me,” she started, and Conall closed his eyes. She waited for him to open them, and saw regret lying inside. “And you never have.” She kissed his lips quickly. “You did wear me out, though.”
Rolling away, she yawned and stretched some more, feeling her muscles loosen. Sighing, she was about to ask him about Rafael when she suddenly popped up, pushing the covers back. Oh God, she was going to mess up his bed!
