“Oliver!” Bijou cried out even as she attempted to slide her hands between their bodies.
Knowing only one way to sate her and not take advantage, Oliver gripped her wrists, held them flat against the wood.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, the deep rumble of his voice catching her attention.
Though she trembled, she didn’t move. Not even when he shifted to the end of the bench, lowering his knees to the floor as he settled between her thighs. The scent of her arousal had him groaning, his cock throbbing painfully, desperate to feel her sliding over him.
“Please, Oliver. Help me. Make it stop.”
A dark rumble escaped him as he pulled her toward him, bringing his mouth closer to her sex. Bijou accommodated him, placing her feet on the edge of the bench, her knees dropping open. Tugging the wet fabric of her bathing suit to the side, he used his fingers to spread her smooth, hairless lips before lowering his head. Her juices coated his tongue, sweet ambrosia flooding his senses as he used his tongue to sate her desire.
“Oh, God! Oliver … that’s … oh … yes!”
Bijou’s hand sank into his hair, holding firmly as he suckled her clit, eager to give her the release she was so desperate to achieve. Truth was, he could’ve spent the rest of his fucking life with his face buried between her legs. He’d never tasted anything as fucking sweet as her, and those noises she was making… Pain infused him, made his head swim. His balls ached, but he ignored his own body as he worked her closer to climax.
“More, Oliver…” The soft, tormented whisper nearly broke him.
Somehow, he managed to hold back. He pushed two fingers deep inside her, thrusting roughly as he flicked her clit with his tongue. The tiny nub pulsed as her body drew up tight. A beautiful cry escaped her as she came, her tight sheath clutching his fingers like a vice.
The moment the orgasm swept through her, she relaxed.
Completely drained by his body’s own needs, it took tremendous effort to adjust her clothing, covering her once more. When Oliver got to his feet, he peered down at her beautiful face. In that moment, he realized he’d never wanted anyone or anything as much as he wanted her.
“Don’t go,” she whispered, her eyes beseeching.
“I assure you, I don’t want to.” He swallowed hard, resigned himself to what was necessary. “But I have to.”
Knowing he was seconds from doing something they would both regret, he stumbled toward the door to the house, out of the sauna, past the pool. Once inside, the cool air chilled him, but he welcomed the sensation as he raced down the hallway, took the stairs to the second floor at a rapid clip. He managed to make it to his room, slamming the door behind him and leaning against the solid wood.
Within seconds, he had his cock in his fist, jerking roughly, attempting to ease the ache. Closing his eyes, Oliver saw Bijou vividly. Only this was a fantasy, one where she was spread out before him in all her naked glory. Her dark hair draped over his pillow as he climbed over her. The instant his fantasy self plunged into the warmth of her, he came in a violent rush. Oliver slammed into the door behind him, fell to the floor, every ounce of his energy drained from the efforts it had taken to resist her.
As he closed his eyes and dragged air into his exhausted lungs, an image appeared in his mind. Just an extension of his fantasy, only in this one, he was sinking his nonexistent fangs into her flesh.
What. The. Fuck?
Chapter Forty-Two
“Thanksgiving with angels,” Orianna said, grinning fromear to ear.
Eclipse’s own smile formed as a direct result of hers. “You know, this is the first Thanksgiving we’ve ever celebrated.”
It had been ten days since he’d brought her back to the mansion, ten days since he’d nearly killed the female he adored beyond reason. And here she sat, smiling up at him as though none of that had ever happened.
Sure, a lot had happened in the past week, including the ass-reaming he’d received when he’d moved Elizabeth into the mansion, settling her into one of the spare guest rooms on the second floor. To be honest, at the time, he’d been more worried about Orianna than the fact he was bringing a human into the mansion. Since he’d had nowhere else to safely put hisamsouelot’smother, the mansion was the only option. Having witnessed Orianna’s pure happiness at seeing her mother there, Eclipse would do it again in a heartbeat. Consequences be damned.
Her eyebrows lowered. “Seriously? Why is that?”
“We don’t follow human traditions,” he admitted.
“Really?” Her gaze swung to theheurospcurrently strolling in with dishes piled high with food. “They’re human, aren’t they?”
“Technically, yes.”
“What does that mean? Technically?”
“Their biological makeup is human. They were born human, but … well, to put it simply, they’re immortal.”
“Wow. How is that even possible?”
