“I want this so badly, Nathaniel,” she whispers, hands above her head, fingers clawing into the carpet. “I won’t be able to remain abstinent forever. I won’t be able to serve the Order till the end.”

  Nathaniel frowns down on her, his eyes stony, his jaw set. But he hasn’t left. He’s still here, standing between her legs like a colossus of Zeus, the mouthwatering forbidden fruit, watching her undulate her body like a snake in heat. She stretches out her arm, watching him through her splayed fingers.

  “Just let me touch your skin. Let me feel it under my fingertips, on my lips.” She touches her searing hot mouth with her forefinger. “I’m burning to feel you, Nathaniel. Just once, please, if it’s the last thing you ever do for me.”

  He doesn’t move, but now her desire is unbearable. She moves harder and harder against the seam of her jeans, staring him in the face, imagining he’s the one causing the pressure between her folds. She feels her skin cells heat up and open wider, the smell of ripe grapes now strong as too much perfume. It becomes too heady even for Leona, causing her to moan and lean her head on the stair under it.

  “Please,” she begs. “I’m going to die if I don’t feel you.” She pushes her hands under her hair, which feels silkier than ever. It glides over her forearms, tingling her pleasantly and, in her fever, she imagines it’s Nathaniel’s fingers that slide longingly down her skin.

  “Please,” she insists, undulating and writhing. “At least put your fingers inside of me. Give me a drop of intimacy, even if it doesn’t mean anything to you.”

  “Would it mean anything to you, temptress?”

  Leona’s eyes open fully on Nathaniel. She didn’t actually expect him to respond. She expected that she would come apart at his feet, while he watched her all too human weakness and grimaced in disgust as she finally moaned in a miserable orgasm caused by her own pants. But, against her expectations, he’s engaging with her.

  “It would mean the world,” she says.

  He hunkers down between her legs, and anxiousness spikes through her chest.

  “Are you sure you aren’t doing this to release tension? So much death, so much—”

  “Yes, the tension is through the roof,” she offers. “And this is my way of dealing with it. But making love is my medicine, and I need it now, because I’m terminal.” Her neck feels hot and sweaty, her jugular pulsing hard.

  “Does it even matter to you if it’s me or another, Leona?” He measures her up and down as if he’s assessing the damage. It might be just in her head, but it seems his cheeks that usually look etched in metal are hot. His light-chocolate skin has gained a reddish, warm hue.

  A bird’s wings flap up in the hollowness of the ruined casino, scattering Leona’s thoughts. She doesn’t know what he wants to hear. Maybe she should lie, but her brain is on vacation. All she’s got is the truth.

  “I hunger for you, and just you, Nathaniel. But, if you won’t have me, I’ll eventually find someone who will.”

  She keeps watching his face to gage the impact of her words, but nothing changes in the mighty Viscount’s expression. After a few moments of silence, Leona decides to make a move.

  She grabs on to one of the wooden rods in the balustrade for support, moving her legs smoothly over his thighs like a ballerina. He keeps still, and Leona’s heart breaks into a head-spinning rhythm as she lifts her backside off the ground and glides down his lap to his manhood. Then she feels that Nathaniel Sinclair is hard, hard for her!

  Forgetting all shame she rubs onto him, relishing the vertiginous hardness between his legs and watching his face, thirsty for his sensations.

  Nathaniel looks up toward the ceiling like a praying man, exposing his beautiful, thick neck.

  “Please, help me,” he whispers to the providence.

  She can’t fight the craving and, with a lustful hiss, she rips his shirt, the buttons scattering around them. The fabric is soft, like silk, even though it must be something else, but Leona could care less about fabrics, clothes or the whole world right now. She’s in a craze as her hands touch Nathaniel Sinclair’s pectorals for the first time, so big that there are whole inches left between the tips of her splayed fingers and the edges of his muscles.

  “By God, you’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” she whispers, creaming hard.

  The contrast sensation between the film of his silk-like shirt and the impossible firmness of his flesh cause her to moan and lick him like he’s ice cream. She forgets herself, ogling him all over, pressing her lips to his neck and chest while he breathes harder and harder. Suddenly, he grabs her upper arms, forcing her to stop.

  “No, please,” she whines, struggling to throw her arms around his neck, but he doesn’t let her. He’s watching her with unblinking, voracious eyes. She’s seen that stare only once before in her life, and that was on the news—a man found in the woods, he hadn’t eaten in days.

  “Why are you doing this to me, she-demon?” Nathaniel’s sparkling eyes move dangerously all over her face, contrasting with his metallic skin, a soft black curl falling over his forehead. He’s so incredibly sexy, and he so obviously wants her. Leona’s stomach sores with bliss as she realizes, she could care less if she even dies after this.

  “You’re too beautiful to be real,” she breathes, tracing his jaw with her finger. “And yet you’re here, I can see you, I can smell you.” She breathes in his scent—incense and arousal.

  A ripping sound pulls her from the quicksand of sensations. She can’t believe what’s happening—Nathaniel has torn her blouse open, and now he’s pulling at her pants, gripping her underwear along with them. They rip all the way from her belly to her backside, leaving her privy parts exposed. Before she knows it, Nathaniel has grabbed her under her buttocks and placed her on the mattress, a cool breeze touching her exposed flesh. But Leona is completely distracted from that when her eyes fall to Nathaniel’s fly, where his manhood has become so engorged that it’s ripped through his fly, reaching his belly button.

  “By God,” she gasps. His shaft is huge and thick, veined and straining upward, reddened with desire. Pre-cum glints on the tip of it, and Leona can’t believe her eyes. She’s staring with her mouth open until Nathaniel’s finger reaches under her chin, pushing it up and forcing her to look into his face.

  “Tell me again—How badly do you want this, temptress? How badly do you want me?” His rumbling voice is charged with desire, causing Leona’s legs to flex and seek to wind around him. She pushes her hips forward, giving herself to him.

  “Ah, Nathaniel, make love to me, I beg you. I want you more than I want to live.” And she means it. That she’d come to crave a man’s shaft with the insanity of a heroin addict is the last thing Leona ever expected, but this is exactly how she feels.

  Looking the truth in the face comes with a feeling of relief. Now she can admit to it all—she’s been longing for Nathaniel’s touch so bad, for so long, and she’d been so desperate that it would never come to pass between them that she’d sealed herself from the world. She’d been dark, bitter and resigned, repressing her temptress powers, even denying them. Now she opens up, letting them fill the air.

  She feels Nathaniel’s hand spread on her back, covering the entire upper part of it as he guides her to lie down on the mattress. God, how she savors his touch, her eyes darting all over his face, taking in his expression as he touches his manhood to her wet folds.

  Her heart explodes as she realizes—it’s going to happen, right now. The thick crest of Nathaniel’s shaft pushes lightly against the soft flesh between her legs, nudging to enter her. He’s barely an inch in when his lips part, letting out the most delicious sound Leona has ever heard—the moan of a man who feels the pleasure of sin for the first time.

  “Leona....” he whispers tenderly, sending goose bumps all over her skin.

  He pushes further, causing her to flinch and whimper. It feels like he’s tearing her apart, but she’ll be damned if she’ll complain. Still, Nathaniel stops, his eyebrows knitted, as if he’s in pain.

  “If you want me to stop, I will,” he says thickly. “Just say the word.”

  Leona’s hands slither down his loins to his waist, pushing his pants down and caressing his rock-like buttocks with full, greedy palms. This is actually real—she’s making love to the man of her wildest dreams....

  “Do you want to stop?” she whispers lasciviously.

  He pauses.

  “Tell me truth,” she presses.

  “I’d rather die than stop,” he whispers, his eyes burning into hers.

  Leona applies pressure to his buttocks, signaling that she’s ready, that he can move deeper still. She can’t help but grimace when he does, but then Nathaniel’s lips close on hers.

  Oh yes, how she wants this, how she wants those lips.... She pushes her chin up, pressing her mouth to his, letting him know he can do more. His tongue enters her mouth, at first shy as if he’s afraid of hurting her with his kiss, then thick and full, tangling with hers.

  Leona loses her head, pushing her tongue to meet Nathaniel’s harder, deeper, as his hips push into her inner thighs that flex against him. His shaft goes deeper, causing her pain, but she’s in a craze right now. Her hands wander wildly under his shirt, up his back that is so broad and solid she feels she’s caressing a mass of boulders. She peels his clothes off him with desperate moves, kissing him fiercely all over, from his jaw to his neck, to his chest.

  “Don’t stop,” she pleads in heat, gluing herself to his body, moaning and writhing under him, cursing her bra for still being in the way of feeling him completely on her skin.

  “I’m too big for you,” he slurs. “I’ll hurt you.”

  “You only hurt me by holding back.” She takes his face between her hands, and looks him in the eyes as steadily as she can. “Nathaniel, I’m in love with you. This means the world to me, I swear.”

  She barely finishes her sentence when Nathaniel claims her mouth in a ravenous kiss. He rips the bra off of her from the front, then cups her breasts with the excitement of a virgin driven mental by hormones, kissing her mouth and her neck passionately.

  He swivels around, sitting on a stair and guiding Leona on top of him. Though dizzy from the whirl, she moves along with him, watching his face that’s so much bigger than hers, and so close. Heavens, she still can’t believe this....

  “You slide down on me,” he whispers. “It’s the only way to make sure this won’t cause you damage.”

  Leona reaches down with her hand, grabbing him at the root, and hissing as his manhood throbs hotly in her palm. “By God, I’ve never seen a cock this big.”

  His teeth crunch, his eyes glinting. “Have you seen many?”

  Leona smiles widely. He’s growing jealous, territorial, dirty, he’ll let this suck him down completely, which makes her heart swell in bliss.

  Rising a bit on her knees, Leona rubs his manhood up and down at the root, while she goes down on him from the top. By God, his shaft is so thick her fingers don’t meet.... Her most intimate part is overflowing with desire, and she’s wet as hell, but she knows she won’t be able to take him all in. She imagines it’s because he’s a superhuman, and she can’t help wondering—would she be able to take him in to the hilt if she was one as well?

  Pressing her breasts to his chest, Leona goes down with slow, undulating moves. When she feels her own hand at her entrance, she removes it, and slides inch for inch lower until she feels him as deep as it goes, her walls painfully but deliciously apart.

  Nathaniel moans like an animal, his big hand spread over her loins. He keeps her glued to him, making it almost impossible to move how she would like. She has no idea why he restricts her, but the small moves she can still make are enough to awaken that long forgotten bundle of nerves inside of her that haven’t been stimulated in so many years. Yes, right there, that spot on her back wall, deep inside. She keeps her moves small but fast until her breath hitches and she throws her head back, hissing at the ceiling the moment she finds her release. Her hands caress Nathaniel wildly with all the love that now sprouts from her heart.

  “I’m all yours, Nathaniel, all yours,” she cries.

  Nathaniel’s mouth lunges over hers in a kiss while, supporting her with a hand under her thigh and one on her back, he guides her back on the mattress, and positions himself on top of her. Leona is more or less comfortable with his length and his thickness by now, but what startles her is the feeling of hot liquid that slips thickly from inside her. She realizes—while she was busy coming hard, Nathaniel has found his release as well; still, he shows no intention of stopping. Now that he discovered the taste of sin, he seems greedy for it, craving intoxication.

  He pushes himself into her, breaking the kiss but taking only a couple of inches distance from her face. His scent of man and incense is strong in her nostrils, possessing her, his broad, muscular arms framing her on either side, hands sinking lovingly in her hair.

  “Are you comfortable with me now?”

  “Yes,” she breathes, crushed against his massive body but determined to take in everything he’s giving her.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  He begins moving again, every thrust making her bounce up. He rolls into her, again and again, his arms wrapped so tightly around her that she can hardly breathe. Leona is sure she’s going to bruise from the hardness of his body, since his flesh is much denser than any human’s, but she meant it—she’s in love with him, and she abandons herself completely to his lust, cost her what it may.

  He comes, quaking and growling, which she savors to the max. Despite the wetness of her own arousal and his first ejaculation, her walls are still tight around him, and she can feel the rush of hot liquid squirting from his shaft. She opens her legs wider, letting him enjoy every fiber of her, and searching his face. His eyes are shut and his features tormented, as if the pleasure of physical love is the most painful thing, while her inner walls clench and throb around his shaft.

  “Jesus Christ, this is insane,” he growls, his majestic upper body flexing back as he pushes himself up on his palms, giving her a full view of the metallic monster that he is.

  She stares at him with an open mouth, bouncing up and down at the impact of his powerful thrusts.

  “I’ll burn in hell for this,” he says gruffly as he comes down on her, filling her mouth with his tongue. He kisses her into total submission before he buries his face in her hair, breathing in like he’s getting high on her scent. His manhood starts retreating to more bearable size until he rolls off of her, her walls now throbbing, sore after his demanding love.

  Slowly, she becomes aware again of the rain hitting the window and the beams, echoing all through the Old Casino. But, most of all, she’s aware of his arms enveloping her like a crib made of chocolate-skinned muscles. Jesus Christ... She actually just made love to the man she’d thought forever off limits. To the great Viscount Nathaniel Sinclair.

  He’s lying on his back and she’s on her side, his arms locked around her as his sparkling eyes scrutinize the high ceiling. She wets her lips, without any idea what to say except,

  “Is there really a hell to burn in?”

  Nathaniel doesn’t answer. Leona moves her arms to his chest and places her chin on the back of her stapled hands to look him in the face.

  “I feel like a domesticated lioness right now,” she says with a loving smile. She pushes herself up and nuzzles his jaw. “For you, I’ll even purr.”

  He looks long at her with something like deep gratefulness, his fingers running through her hair. “I’ve been around for centuries, but I had no idea how good this feels,” he says quietly.

  “This,” she repeats with a warm smile, “was love-making. When I think that I was your very first lover....” She giggles, drawing lines with her finger on his pectoral. Her heart is about to burst with all the love she feels for this man, and she wants to tell him again, so bad, but her intuition tells her to refrain. “I hope I’m also the last.”

  “Tonight is something I’ll always cherish, I promise you that.”

  A frown creases Leona’s forehead. “Why does that sound like good-bye? Better yet, why does it sound like bullshit?”

  He stops stroking her, his eyes growing cold. The Viscount is returning, the superman above human needs and cravings. “Leona, your powers were spinning out of control. The temptress broke out, which was probably your way of dealing with the emotional shock after we found Serena Gheorghe dead. You simply snapped. There was no other way, I had to...” He pauses, searching for the way to put this so as not to hurt her. “I had to rein you in.”

  “You mean to tell me you did it because you had to?”

  No answer, his gaze steady on her. She pushes herself away form his chest, sitting up. “What can I say, thank you for your sacrifice?”

  “Believe it or not, it will cost me a lot,” he says softly.

  “Cost you a lot? Your sperm is still warm inside of me, and you’re already dumping me,” she shrieks. “Wait. Your seed—”

  “You can’t get pregnant with me,” he says patiently. “I’m immortal, I don’t reproduce.”

  “You mean—”

  “Only mortals need to leave something behind, because they die away. Those like me don’t.” He pauses, measuring her up and down. “You’re transforming, too. It could be that your reproductive function already shut down as well.”

  Leona shakes her head in denial. “No, that can’t be right. That can’t be happening to me. If it is, then why the hell am I so in love with you? Love, desire, emotions like that are there in order to produce offspring, aren’t they? Love is all about the reproductive function, isn’t that the species’ prerogative?”

  “No. Love, especially erotic love, is about emotional and physical pleasure. The pursuit of pleasure is the most basic human instinct, as it is the highest human goal. And, against popular belief, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

 

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