She moaned and her breaths came hard, faster, as he dipped his hand between her thighs, as he groaned and circled her core. That breath hitched as he eased a finger inside her sheath, as she clutched his shoulders to steady herself, or possibly anchor herself. She felt as if she was soaring higher as he pumped her with one finger and then two, his rumbling groans of pleasure sending sparks tripping through her, the thought that he was enjoying touching her only heightening the bliss she felt.
He withdrew his fingers and she muttered a curse, one that drew a chuckle from him before he kissed her again, pulled her down against him and took her mouth as he had taken her body, demanding she submit to him. She did so willingly, surrendering to his kiss, but only because she wanted him distracted.
Her fingers nimbly untied his trousers.
Hartt gasped into her mouth as her palm met the hot, hard steel of him, as she shivered and stroked him, felt him trembling against her too. She wrapped her hand around him and fisted him, released him and feathered her fingers over the blunt tip, smearing moisture into it. An ache filled her, a primal need seizing hold of her and stealing control.
She needed him inside her.
He didn’t resist as she grasped his shoulder with one hand, shoved him against the back of the seat and leaned over him. He kissed her again, nipped at her lower lip and sucked it into his mouth. With her other hand, she eased his cock lower. She shuffled forwards, groaned as the head slipped through her folds to tease her and then gently nudged inside.
Hartt growled, grasped her backside and raised his hips, eased his length inside her inch by inch, stretching and filling her.
She moaned and sank onto him, shivered as she sat on him, deeply aware of him inside her, a connection stirring in her veins to condense in her chest, filling it with a feeling that felt dangerous but she was too far gone to care about the repercussions of this moment. She needed him, plain and simple. This was about satisfying lust. Nothing more.
Scratching that itch she had for him.
She kept telling herself that as she gripped his shoulders and rode him, as he dug his fingers into her bottom and guided her, moving in time with her. His pace quickened, growing fevered, and she lost herself in it, in the way he filled her and withdrew, how he seized command. She gave herself over to the moment, surrendering control to the primal side that rose inside her, that swept through her to have her kissing him hard and scoring his shoulders with her nails as need built inside her.
He growled and thrust deeper, brought her down harder on his cock with each plunge into her, pushing her to the edge.
And over it.
Mackenzie cried into his mouth as the sparks tripping through her with each thrust suddenly gathered into a tight ball inside her and detonated. She moaned and trembled, every inch of her quivering as she tried to keep moving, as Hartt kept plunging into her, riding her climax. She sank against him, kissed him more softly as pleasure rolled through her, as she focused on how deeply they were connected, as she surrendered to him more than bodily.
He clutched her closer, groaned as he slowed things down, as he gentled his thrusts and kissed her.
Making things dangerously soft between them.
Tender.
She moaned as he raised his hips and filled her with every inch of him, as he held her in place and throbbed inside her, spilling seed that warmed her, had her clenching and unclenching him, wanting it all.
Hartt sagged beneath her, held her on him as he kissed her, soft sweeps of his lips that roused a warmth in her veins, a lightness that frightened her.
She was on treacherous ground and it was liable to give beneath her, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull up the wall between them again or push him away.
She sank into him instead.
Prayed he would catch her.
Took the leap and fell.
Chapter 15
Hartt was finding it impossible to keep his eyes off Mackenzie’s throat as she sat on the edge of the large oak table in the middle of a library in the vampire’s stronghold. His gaze strayed back to the smooth, pale, unmarked column of her neck, hunger igniting in him for what felt like the millionth time as he stared at it.
A hunger to be the one to mark that flesh.
Even when he knew she would never allow it.
Everything she had told him about her past made that clear to him, but he still couldn’t stop thinking about sinking his fangs into her, still ached to taste her blood and learn if it was as sweet and smoky as its scent.
Her bright golden eyes drifted to him and he averted his gaze, pinning it on Grave instead.
The brunet smiled slowly, the amusement glittering in his ice-blue eyes warning Hartt he had noticed the hunger in him—a need that was so like a vampire. Hartt glared at him, daring him to say anything, to attempt to tie their species together through this common trait. He was no vampire.
He thirsted for Mackenzie’s blood, but only because part of him craved a connection to her again.
A deep, dangerous part of him where he wasn’t master, where his instincts ran wild and were strong, tempting him to listen to them and surrender the fight. He wanted to bite her, had wanted it from the very moment he had met her. That need had only grown when he had scented her blood, had continued to gain strength as they had fought each other, as they had come to know each other better.
When she had kissed him, the need had been overwhelming.
When they had made love, it had been unbearable.
It had taken all of his will to stop himself from crossing that line with her, and not only because he had the feeling she was deeply protective of her blood, would view it as a violation and would grow to despise him.
He never took blood from the vein. It was too dangerous, and while he knew what she was now, there was still so much he didn’t know about her. Any one of the abilities in her possession could negate his, and he needed to be at full strength right now, all of his powers at his disposal.
He had a witch to hunt.
“Where did you meet with him?” Grave slid a look at Mackenzie.
One that made Hartt want to growl and claw his eyes out. He checked that need.
“In London. He sent an email requesting a meeting.” Mackenzie flicked the soft waves of her red hair over her shoulder, drawing his focus to the new clothes she wore.
A form-fitting black shirt and leather pants that had been delivered by a demoness who had shown up while Hartt had been in his quarters. According to Grave, the female had wanted to stick around and had inquired about Hartt with a look in her eyes that had left the male feeling she had wanted to remove Hartt’s intestines. Hartt wasn’t sure what he had done to anger the demoness.
“An email?” Grave frowned at her at the same time Hartt did.
“You were in the mortal world when he contacted you?” Hartt put it out there, because it was the only thing that made sense.
Although, she hadn’t said how she had contacted the demoness to order a delivery of clothes and makeup.
Her honey-coloured eyes brightened against the backdrop of reddish-brown she had painted around them again and had streaked towards her temples. Her mask was back in place, but he had the feeling that not all her walls had come back up since they had surrendered to their attraction.
Mackenzie leaned to her right and fished a phone from her pocket. “Nope. I was here, in Hell. I’m guessing you guys are both behind the times. There’s a witch in the Scottish fae town who hooked up a network in Hell. I can message anyone down here if they have a phone like this, and I can send messages to regular phones in the mortal realm too and receive replies. You all might want to look into getting one.”