“Oh shizz, this is my second marriage, isn’t it?” Mikhail grabbed my hand, and I marveled at how strong and warm his fingers were. My core clenched the tiniest bit as I remembered how good those fingers had felt on me. In me.
“Then this is your second honeymoon,” Sunny agreed with a wink. “I’ll just get out of here, so you two can figure out how to rebalance those energies.”
I had no idea what that meant exactly, but I called back, “Don’t come a-knockin’ if this Hall’s a-rockin’,” as she left, carrying away the dirty dishes.
The silence when the door shut was awkward. Finally, I peeked at Mikhail. His smile had slipped slightly, and he chewed at his lip while stroking the feather on his hand and arm. I could feel a ghostly sensation on my wing where it had been attached. Not pain, but connection.
“I know I didn’t ask,” I began hesitantly. “I know it’s a big deal to mate. It’s for eternity. Well, it’s supposed to be.” His continued silence was making me babble. “I mean, it’s not like I did something you hadn’t already. You’re the one who mated me while unconscious. Maybe it’s us—we both have a thing for spiritual somnophilia! That’s got to be a weird kink some Angelus made u—” My words stopped when his lips covered mine.
The first time we’d kissed, it had been like a cascade of fireworks, pain and pleasure. This was all pleasure, so much that I felt instantly dizzy as the blood rushed to my lady bits.
When he finally pulled his face away, I gasped for breath. “Growly, you remember that time you made me come just bysucking on one nipple?” He nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “I wonder if you could get me there with only one kiss?”
“Can I use my tongue?” he asked, and before I could reply in the affirmative, I was lying on the mattress, Righteous’s shirt shoved up under my armpits and Growly’s face buried between my thighs.
He licked me like he’d just discovered ice cream in between my legs. Like my clit was made of hard candy, with a sweet toffee center. Like my pleasure was all that mattered for him from now on. His eyes stayed on my face, reflecting the light of a thousand stars into my own as he groaned and feasted.
And he did make me come with just a kiss… again, and again, and again.
Chapter 11
Feather
Idreamed of Mikhail and Rumple setting a picnic among the stars, while Gavriel and Righteous sang to distant planets, beckoning them close. Rumple twisted his tail around my ankle, while Mikhail wrapped a firm hand behind my neck, both of them sending visions of the improbable, miraculous things they wanted to do to my body using stardust and moonlight.
Rumple had just begun feeding me a candy-sweet cloud of nebulae, when I woke to the sensation of soft, warm lips brushing over mine. “Growly?” I mumbled, and fought to open my eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Mmhmm,” he murmured. “Are you?” One of his hot hands began to drift slowly down, and I thought about shutting my thighs, but those birches would not move on my command.
“I’m weak,” I complained. “Why can’t I move?”
The bed moved as he laughed. “Because I gave you seventeen orgasms. I may have been a bit overexcited.”
“Overexcited, yes.” I would have smiled, but I was too blissed out. “Did we have sex? Or, you know, merge?”
“You think I would merge with you while you’re unconscious?” He sounded truly offended, and I managed to crack open one eye.
“I believe we’ve firmly established we’re both into spiritual somnophilia?—”
“Stop saying that,” he grumbled, lying back and running a hand through his shaggy, dark hair. “It makes me sound like even more of a pervert than I am.”
I raised one eyebrow. “You haven’t begun to discover just how perverted your new mate is, Growly. I have fantasies that are probably illegal in every realm.”
One bushy eyebrow quirked up to mirror mine. “Tell me about them.”
“Can we start with vanilla?” I asked, trying to keep the pleading tone out of my voice. I wanted to merge with him now more than ever. “The orgasms were nice, but if you wanted to try merging… That is, if you think merging wouldn’t be too taxing, old man?—”
“I’ll tax your pretty ass,” he threatened, and I wiggled that ass on the sheets.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time. And sexual spanking is on page three of Feather’s Fantasies. You’ve got to earn your way there, snookums.”
“Snookums?” I blinked, and suddenly he was on his elbows, hovering over me, his bare chest rubbing on my shirt, his eyes drilling into mine. “I suppose I’d rather be called that than what my full name is now,” he teased.
I snapped a bite toward his nose. “The first rule of mate club is we don’t talk about… how dumb I am.”
“You are many things, mate. You are irreverent, and brave. Generous to a fault, and far too clever and young for an old fogey like me. You are a breath of fresh air, the youngest Angelus in the universe, whose soul is every bit as great as the ones who were first created.” He swooped down and stole a kiss. “I am the most fortunate High Angelus in the history of time to call you mine.”
For some reason, the phrase “in the history of time” made me think of Rumple.
