Page 19 of Bishop's Flight
His mouth was on the sweet center of her body, licking and kissing her sex until he felt the tension rise. Her amnis reached out to his, and he reached up to grab her hands and placed them on his head.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” she muttered under her breath.
That was definitely the plan, but he needed her to come first.
The tension in her body rose, crested, and snapped with a burst of pleasure that made her cry out and grip his head with her thighs.
He reached up, pulled her thighs apart, and pressed deeper, wrenching a deeper orgasm from her before he turned his head and sank his fangs into her right thigh. He pulled hard for a second, drinking deeply of her blood, then turned to the left and gave her another bite on the other side, the fang marks welling with blood that he licked up and took into his body.
He reached down, unbuttoned his pants, and freed his aching erection.
“In me,” she whispered, pulling at his shoulders. “Carwyn—”
He slid up her body and into her in one movement, driving himself to the hilt as he joined his bloody mouth to hers.
She purred when she tasted the mix of her blood and arousal on his mouth. The kiss felt endless. She bit his tongue and drank him in as he moved in her like a heartbeat, the gentle rhythm slowly building until he felt his pleasure draw up and explode in an orgasm so intense he felt like he flew.
He looked down as Brigid reached up, tore his shirt down the center, and sank her teeth into the muscle that rose below his collarbone. His body shook as another orgasm ran like a shiver up his backbone. His back arched and her teeth tore his skin a little, but the pleasure and pain combined in a rush of sensation, amnis, and electricity that had the hairs over his body standing on end.
A shudder ran through the room, and the bed slammed to the floor.
Carwyn rolled over, pulling Brigid to his chest. “Sorry about the earthquake.”
“It wasn’t so bad.”
A voice called from the other side of the house. “For fuck’s sake, you guys. Stop breaking the house!”
Brigid stretched over his chest, licking the fang marks she’d put there. “Lee’s still not used to the earthquakes.”
“They’re not common where he’s from.” He ran a hand over the shorn hair at her neck. “How’s your head?”
“Better.” She propped her chin on his chest. “I need to meet Lucas’s guard. I need to figure out the boy’s habits and see if the guard knows anything about this girl who was flirting with him. Figure out if Angel was at that car show.”
“Okay, but when you need me,” he said, “call. Don’t wait. Call.”
She pressed her forehead into his cheek and held it there. “I will.”
Seven
Miguel was an average height, average weight, human bodyguard who specialized in two things as far as Brigid could tell in their short time together.
Lucas O’Hara.
And chess.
“You want to talk to the kid, you have to learn chess. It’s his thing.” He piloted the dark car through the thick traffic on the Las Vegas Strip just before midnight. “He and Agnes have at least a half dozen matches going at any given time.”
“Would you say Lucas is closer to Agnes than Rose?”
“Eh.” Miguel shrugged. “They’re both his parents, but yeah, I’d say that he and Agnes are pretty damn close. Sometimes I’ll hear them on the phone or something, and all they do is speak in chess, you know?”
Brigid frowned. “I have no idea what that means.”
“Ya know, knight to D4 and all that stuff. About half the games they run are verbal only. I heard Agnes tell him it’s the best way to build his memory.”
“Gotcha.” Brigid wasn’t experienced in chess. She’d been taught the basic rules as a child, but she wasn’t competitive. “Did you ever play with Lucas?”
“Oh yeah. The kid beats me every time.” Miguel smiled; then it faded. “I’m still kicking my own ass, Miss Connor.”
