Page 88 of Kiss of Wrath

When she rose toward an orgasm this time, every nerve ending on her body felt titillated. Her heart was racing. Blood drained from her head. She would have fainted if she were on her feet. She bucked against him, seeking the ultimate reward, an explosion of the senses. For the first time in her life, she experienced what was called female ejaculation.

No sooner did she peak than Mordr pounded hard, hard, hard into her still convulsing channel. Thick cords stood out on his neck as he arched it back and he climaxed with a triumphant roar.

When she came back to her senses (she hadn’t fainted, but was definitely dazed), she was splayed out flat on her back with Mordr’s heavy weight pinning her to the mattress. His face was at her neck where she could feel his fangs pressing against her skin. Not biting, just letting their presence be known.

After what seemed a long time, Mordr lifted his head and smiled down at her. “That was good for a start.”

She did faint then.

Fifteen

He was rusty but no longer broken . . .

Mordr waited for what seemed a really long time, but was probably only five minutes, for Miranda to wake up. He saw by the bedside clock that it was only midnight. He could have sworn they’d been at it all night.

He eased himself off her and moved them both to the head of the bed, resting on soft pillows. His arms were extended over his head, touching the spindles of the headboard, which, incidentally, gave him some ideas. Miranda was cuddled up against his side, her hand unconsciously lying over his flat belly, which also gave him some ideas.

As sated as he was, he wanted more.

In the meantime, his emotions were banging against the walls of his heart. This had been a life-altering sexual experience for him. The best sex he had ever had. The best sex he would ever have. But more than that. He liked Miranda. She made him smile when he had thought he could never smile again. Oreo, he thought, grinning like a lackwit. They could give Fifty Shades a run for its money and then some. His heart swelled just thinking about Miranda.

It was a losing proposition for him, of course. Mike would never allow him to have more than this. In fact, he would cut him off as soon as he found out. The best he could hope for was to build up memories to last him a lifetime and then some.

He dozed off for a moment, his slumber interrupted by the feel of Miranda moving beside him. With one eye cracked open, he observed her trying to crawl away from him and off the bed. He caught her by the ankle just in time and yanked her back to the center of the mattress.

“Where do you think you are going, sweetling?”

“Um,” she said, trying to pull the bed linen up and over her nakedness, which he would not allow, flipping it up and off the bed.

What was it about women that they could perform the most outrageous acts in the dead of night, then turn modest as a pure maiden the next morning?

“I was going to the bathroom. I should wash off this . . . wetness.”

He put a big hand over the springy curls of her mons, which were indeed damp, and said, “I like your wetness.” And that was the truth. He who had once disdained red-haired women now preferred fiery hair, especially down there where slick, crimson curls beckoned him like a lantern on the shore to a lost sailor.

By the runes, I am turning womanish with all these flowery thoughts.

“Mordr,” she chided. That was another thing. Women did not like to talk about bodily fluids, like the ones they exuded before and during sex. Men, on the other hand, found it a sign of their sexual expertise. The more the better.

“You’re smiling.”

“I am happy.” For some reason, he was surprised at that admission. In truth, he could not recall many such occasions in recent years when he could say that.

She glanced over to him and couldn’t help but notice the size of his continuing enthusiasm. “Mordr,” she repeated.

“What?”

“You can’t be thinking . . .”

I most definitely can be thinking . . . “Why not? That was just a little bedplay to take the edge off.”

“A little! In what world is that little?”

“Remember, I am not of this world exactly.”

“I forgot.”

He was pleased that she’d forgotten. It made him feel almost normal.