Man... she was the best crutch he could ask for, taking a hell of a lot of the load as they walked to the door. Together, they went down to the office, ducked through the closet, and emerged into the tunnel.
He made it about, oh, ten yards before he stopped, moved her around so she was standing before him, and then...
Killed the lights. All of them.
On his mental command, the fluorescents on the ceiling went dark one by one, starting with the pair directly above their heads and then stretching out in both directions. As everything went pitch- black, he worked fast and so did she. They knew damn well that Doc Jane and Ehlena were going to be busy cleaning up in the OR for at least another half hour. And it was Last Meal up at the mansion, so no one was working out, about to work out, or taking a shower in the locker room from working out.
Limited window.
Darkness was key.
Despite the difference in their heights, which even with her being near six feet was still more than half a dozen inches, he found her mouth sure as if her lips were spotlit. As he kissed her deep and slipped her his tongue, she moaned low in her throat and held on to his shoulders.
In this glorious stretch of neither here nor there, in this one step off the path they had agreed on, he let his bonded male out, unleashing himself to ride the wave of that moment that had happened back at the farmhouse....
That moment when her dagger had left her hand and flown through the air... and given him nights still to be lived.
His palm slipped around to her breast, finding the tight nipple, rubbing it with his thumb while he ached to put his mouth where his fingers were. Good thing she'd left her jacket and her weapons back at the house in the foyer, so all there was between him and her skin was the muscle shirt she had on.
He wanted to rip another one down the front, but this was a quick quencher until they could make it up to the privacy of his bedroom: Instead of the grab and split, he slid both of his palms down and under, then shoved the shirt up until her br**sts popped out. Shiiiiit... she didn't wear a bra even to fight, and for some reason that was a gigantic turn-on.
Not that he needed the help when it came to her.
As the sounds of their kissing echoed, he tweaked the tips that were ready for his lips and ground his arousal against her. And what do you know... she took the hint he wasn't even aware of making and dragged her hand down his stomach right to--
John jacked his head back, the slam of electricity bolting up his spine so great he couldn't hold the kiss together.
Faster than he could say, Fuck me hard, Xhex pushed him back against the tunnel wall and then he felt cool air as she parted the robe. Her lips moved across his chest, her fangs making a twin trail that tingled though every single nerve in his body--especially the ones at the top of his cock.
John let out a silent shout as her warm, wet mouth found that hot, hard place, sliding down over him, taking him fully, encompassing him in heat and suction. On the withdraw, she was slow and steady, until his head popped out of her lips with a soft smack--and then her tongue lapped around. As she worked him, his eyes were open, but the darkness surrounding them made it seem as if he'd squeezed his lids shut--and oh, man, blindness was just fine in this sitch: He had a clear image of what she had to look like on her knees before his spread legs, her muscle shirt up over her br**sts, her ni**les still peaked, her head going forward and back, forward and back.
Her br**sts would sway with every move she made.
As his breath dragged into and out of his mouth, he had a feeling his weight was equally distributed between his injured and uninjured leg, but damned if he felt anything other than what she was doing to him. Hell, he could have been on fire, for all he knew or cared.
He was on fire, as a matter of fact--and the flames got hotter as Xhex folded his erection up against his lower belly and ran the flat of her tongue down him until she got to the heavy weights below his cock. One by one they were pulled into her mouth and then she went back to lollipopping his arousal.
She found a rhythm and he didn't last long. Stroke and suck, stroke and suck, stroke--
John's body arched and his palms smacked against the wall as he came. After it was done, he dragged her to her feet and kissed her long and hard... with an inkling of returning the favor on her--
Xhex nicked his lower lip on purpose and lapped at the tiny slice she'd made. "Bed. Now."
Roger. That.
John relit the ceiling fixtures and they all but ran up to the mansion.
Funny, that bum leg didn't bother him in the slightest.
Blay stayed out of the room Saxton had been given during and after the feeding, but he wasn't allowed to leave the mansion to get some head space. Qhuinn's cousin was considered, under the Old Laws, a male guest of his within the house of the First Family, and as such, protocol demanded that he remain on the premises.
At least fighting with the others would have given him a sense of accomplishment and helped the time to pass faster.
After Phury had arrived with Selena, and introductions had been made, Blay had gone to his own room and rationalized the peace out by telling himself he had to straighten things up there. Unfortunately, the Maids R Us routine had taken all of two minutes and involved repositioning the book he'd been reading on the bedside table... and moving a pair of black silkies out of his colored-socks drawer to their brethren down below.
One of the curses of being neat was that there was never any major overhauling to be done on the tidy-up front.
He'd also had a haircut recently, too. Nails were clipped. No manscaping to do, thanks to the fact that vampires were hairless except for on their heads.
Ordinarily if he had time to kill, he called home to catch up with his parents, but given what was going through his mind, the number to the family safe house was not something he was dialing. Bottom line? He sucked at lying and wasn't about to loop his mom and dad: Hey, guys, you don't know this yet, but I'm g*y... and I'm thinking about dating Qhuinn's cousin.
Oh, and he's here, by the way.
Feeding.
God, the idea that Saxton was taking someone's vein was hot as hell-- even though it was Selena's.
And except for the fact that Phury was in there with the pair of them. For decorum rather than her protection of course.
So, yeah, no way he was going anywhere near that room. Last thing he wanted was to get aroused in front of an audience.
Blay glanced at his watch. Paced. Tried to watch TV. Picked up the book he'd repositioned for a while.
From time to time his phone went off with reports from the field, none of which helped his twitchy mood. The Brotherhood always sent out regular communiques so everyone had up-to-the-moment intel, and things were not great: John had been injured, so he and Xhex and Qhuinn were down with Doc Jane in the clinic. The infiltration at the farmhouse had been successful, but only up to a point--the suspected Fore-lesser was still at large and they had gotten many, but not all, of the new recruits they'd found. Address tied to that street racer had yielded nothing but snores. Tensions were running high.
He checked his watch. Then the clock on the wall.
And felt like screaming.
Christ, it had been so long since Saxton and Selena had started. Why had no one come and gotten him when it was done?
What if something was wrong? Doc Jane had said the guy's injuries were not life-threatening and that feeding would put him well on the road to recovery--
Then again, if any Brother was likely to get along with Saxton, it was the Primale. Phury loved opera and art and good books. Maybe the two had gotten to talking afterward?
Eventually he couldn't stand his own company and went downstairs to the kitchen, where the doggen of the household were getting Last Meal ready. He tried to help, offering to put out plates or silver, or chop vegetables in the kitchen, or baste the turkeys that were roasting--but the staff got so flustered, he backed off.
Man, if there was one thing guaranteed to get a doggen all turned around, it was a bid to pitch in. By nature, they couldn't bear someone they served doing anything except getting waited on-- but they also couldn't handle denying a request from said party.
Before spinning heads led to burned dinner and possible mass suicide, he left the pantry and came out through the dining room--
The vestibule's door opened and shut and Qhuinn stalked across the foyer's mosaic floor.
There was red blood on the guy's face and hands and leathers. Fresh, glistening blood.
Of the human variety.
Blay's first instinct was to shout to his buddy, but he held back because he didn't want to draw a ton of attention to the fact that Qhuinn had very obviously been where John wasn't.