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out. Then, sweet contact.
She expected the touch, but nothing could have prepared her for the perfection of it. She did scream,
shivered. Begged for more.  Yes, yes, yes. Please, please, please.
At first, he merely lapped at her, humming his approval at her taste. Thank the gods. Or God. Or
whoever was responsible for this man. If he hadn t liked her in that way, she wasn t sure what she
would have done. In that moment, she wanted needed to be everything he wanted needed. She
wanted him to crave every part of her, as she craved every part of him.
Even his goodness?
Yes, she thought, finally admitting it. Yes. Just then, she had no defenses; she d been stripped to her
soul. His goodness somehow balanced her out. She d fought against it and still had no plans to
change but they were two extremes and actually complemented each other, each giving the other
what he or she lacked. In her case, the knowledge that some things were worth taking seriously. In his,
that it wasn t a crime to have fun.
 Bianka, he moaned.  Tell me how& what& 
 More. Don t stop.
Soon his tongue was darting in and out of her, mimicking the act of sex. She grasped at the sheets,
fisting them. She writhed, meeting his every thrust. She screamed again, moaned and begged some
more.
Finally, she splintered apart. Bit down on her bottom lip until she tasted blood. White lights danced over
her eyes from her skin, she realized. Her skin was so bright it was almost blinding, glowing like a lamp,
something that had never happened before.
Then Lysander was looming above her.  You are not fertile, he rasped. Sweat beaded him.
That gave her fuzzy mind pause.  I know. Her words were as labored as his. Harpies were only fertile
once a year and this wasn t her time.  But how do you know that?
 Sense it. Always know that kind of thing. So& are you ready? he asked, and she could hear the
uncertainty in his voice.
He must not know proper etiquette, the darling virgin. He would learn. With her, there was no
etiquette. Doing what felt good was the only thing that drove her.
 Not yet. She flattened her hands on his shoulders and pushed him to his back, careful of his wings. He
didn t protest or fight her as she straddled his waist and gripped his cock by the base. Her wings
fluttered in joy at their freedom.  Better?
He licked his lips, nodded. His wings lifted, enveloped her, caressing her. Her head fell, the long length of
her hair tickling his thighs. He trembled.
Would he regret this? she suddenly wondered. She didn t want him to hate her for supposedly ruining
him.
 Are you ready? she asked.  There s no taking it back once it s done. If he wasn t ready, well, she
would& wait, she realized. Yes, she would wait until he was ready. Only he would do. No other. Her body
only wanted him.
 Do not stop, he commanded, mimicking her.
A grin bloomed.  I ll be careful with you, she assured him.  I won t hurt you.
His fingers circled her hips and lifted her until she was poised at his tip.  The only thing that could hurt
me is if you leave me like this.
 No chance of that, she said, and sank all the way to the hilt.
He arched up to meet her, feeding her his length, his eyes squeezing shut, his teeth nearly chewing their
way through his bottom lip. He stretched her perfectly, hit her in just the right spot, and she found
herself desperate for release once more. But she paused, his enjoyment more important than her own.
For whatever reason.
 Tell me when you re ready for me to 
 Move! he shouted, hips thrusting so high he raised her knees from the mattress.
Groaning at the pleasure, she moved, up and down, slipping and sliding over his erection. He was wild
beneath her, as if he d kept his passion bottled up all these years and it had suddenly exploded from
him, unstoppable.
Soon, even that wasn t enough for him. He began hammering inside her, and she loved it. Loved his
intensity. All she could do was hold on for the ride, slamming down on him, gasping. Her nails dug into
his chest, her moans blended with his. And when her second orgasm hit, Lysander was right there with
her, roaring, muscles stiffening.
He grabbed her by the neck and jerked her down, meshing their lips together. Their teeth scraped as he
primitively, savagely kissed her. It was a kiss that stripped her once more to her soul, left her raw,
agonized. Reeling.
He was indeed her consort, she thought, dazed. There was no denying it now. He was it for her. Her one
and only. Necessary. Angel or not. She laughed, and was surprised by how carefree it sounded. Tamed
by great sex. It figured. After this, no other man would do. Ever. She knew it, sensed it.
She collapsed atop him, panting, sweating. Scared. Suddenly vulnerable. How did he feel about her? He
didn t approve of her, yet he had gifted her with his virginity. Surely that meant he liked her, just as she
was. Surely that meant he wanted her around.
His heart thundered in his chest, and she grinned. Surely.
 Bianka, he said shakily.
She yawned, more replete than she d ever been. My consort. Her eyelids closed, her lashes suddenly too
heavy to hold up. Fatigue washed through her, so intense she couldn t fight it.
 Talk& later, she replied, and drifted into the most peaceful sleep of her life.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FOR HOURS LYSANDER HELD Bianka in the crook of his arm while she slept, marveling this was what
she d craved most in the world and he had given it to her and yet, he was also worrying. He knew what
that meant, knew how difficult it was for a Harpy to let down her guard and sleep in front of another. It
meant she trusted him to protect her, to keep her safe. And he was glad. He wanted to protect her. Even
from herself.
But could he? He didn t know. They were so different.
Until they got into bed, that is. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]