Page 20 of Making Out With Mermaids (Haven Ever After #6)
CHAPTER TWENTY
AMATHEIA
T omorrow’s going to be a shitshow. But the benefit of being out of the lake is that I can compartmentalize my worry, to a degree. Tomorrow, I can agonize over a plan. Nobody’s going to miss me tonight—I’m supposed to be working in the Sea Julienne fields and then preparing for yet another dinner in the evening. Unless Stefan shows up at my suite again and finds me gone—and cares enough to do something about it—I’m confident it’ll be okay.
Tonight is all about Betmal.
He’s silent on the car ride home, but tension simmers between us, my body wound tight like a string waiting to be plucked. He rests a hand on my knee, stroking light circles on the inside of it but focused on the road ahead. That wayward bit of blond hair waves in the breeze, making him look so carefree.
But I know better.
Because there’s a tense set to his jaw, a hardness to the way he’s focused on the road ahead. He’s a predator waiting for his moment, and the closer we get to the house, the more desperate I become. By the time he pulls down the driveway and parks under the carport, my breath comes in short, rapid pants. I can’t pull air into my lungs fast enough.
This is it.
Betmal slips the car in park and hops out. After rounding the front, he opens my door, offering me his hand. I take it, allowing him to pull me up out of the car. The minute I’m upright, he lunges forward and grabs me by the throat. He spins and lifts me onto the hood of the car, planting himself between my thighs. He yanks me to the edge of the hard, warm surface and growls into my lips.
“Mine.”
He closes his lips over mine and sucks at my tongue with soft, teasing passes, hinting at what it might feel like elsewhere—lower, much lower, in that place that throbs in anticipation of him.
The next slant of his mouth over mine is rougher, needier. Giant black shadow wings flare out behind him, cloaking us in darkness as he kisses my mouth, my chin, my jawline, kisses turning to nips and then hard bites that have me crying out for more.
He pauses, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and takes a step back. Where his eyes are normally red, they’re completely white now. I read about this in the later chapters of the book from the Historical Society. The second eyelid protects vampires from their prey, but it’s also a sign his emotions are high.
That he’s losing control.
That he’s ready to strike.
I’m inexperienced, but I know I want this. I want all of it, whatever he’s holding back right now with that ridiculous amount of control he possesses.
Sliding back on the hood, I step my feet out just enough to tease him with the view beneath my very, very short skirt. Fully white eyes drop to the juncture of my thighs, and he lets out a ragged growl that has me soaking the car hood with need.
I rub my knees together, and the move rubs my clit against my pussy lips, sending heat rushing through me as Betmal watches in silence.
He rolls his shirt sleeves up slowly, eyes never leaving my pussy. “We have been the slowest of burns, ma siréne.” Pure white eyes flick up and lock onto mine. “Are you ready to catch fire?”
I spread my thighs wider, showing him just how ready I am. “See for yourself,” I whisper. “I was ready ages ago, Betmal. I’ve missed you.”
He steps forward. “I haven’t eaten what I want to eat, Ama. On your knees, cheek flat against the car hood. Do it now.”
Commands? Oh depths, yessssss! I’m certain I can get on board with that.
I flip quickly over, ass up in the air and my cheek on the hood as directed. Cool hands come to my hips and pull them backward. I know what’s coming next, but I’m still not ready for the warm swipe of Betmal’s tongue from my clit all the way to my ass. Scorching heat follows in its wake. And when he slides it back down my slit to swirl a soft circle over that most sensitive spot, I cry out and scramble to grab something, anything to tether me back to earth.
There’s nobody around for miles, no one to see this lascivious thing we’re doing right out in the open.
Betmal runs a hand up the back of my thigh, gripping my ass and spreading me wide to spear his tongue inside, curling it and sucking at the same time. He probes with leisurely, rhythmic thrusts as I pant and claw at the hood of the car. Soft growls vibrate against my skin, dragging pleasure from me as tension builds between my thighs. They tremble as I rock back to meet him. I need more of him, thicker, deeper, touching that spot inside me that aches for his attention. The tiny cilia that line my channel grab his tongue, trying to pull him deeper.
“I need more,” I manage with a gasp. “I want to see youuuu…” the word ends in a howl as he slips long fingers into my pussy and curls them, stroking until I see stars. He rubs and licks until I can’t see, can’t hear, and there’s nothing at all but the sensations he pulls so easily from my poor, overwhelmed body.
I barely notice him grabbing me and flipping me carefully onto my back. Not until he snarls and attacks my clit with fervor, sucking rhythmically as one hand presses flat on my stomach, holding me against the warm car hood.
My thighs tremble as I try desperately to clamp them around his head. But I can’t move; I can’t do anything but allow pleasure to build and rush through me as Betmal eats me out with practiced ease.
Sudden jealousy spears through me, knowing he’s done this before. That somewhere, sometime in his very long past, others benefitted from his sensual nature.
When I let out a warning growl, he stands and licks his lips, staring at me with a heated look. “Now, now, ma siréne, why the frustrated sounds? Do you need to come more quickly? Or is it something else?”
I sit up and grab the lapels of his shirt, yanking them until the fabric tears. After ripping it over his shoulders, I shove it down until I can toss the torn clothing away. Shifting up onto both knees, I pull my shirt over my head and throw it with his. Then I press our upper bodies together and growl as I inch closer to him, so close we’re breathing the same air.
Reaching down, I rub at the hard cock straining the front of his pants. “This is mine,” I say simply. “Never again will it belong to anyone else.”
He cants his head to the side, running both hands up my front to pinch softly at my nipples. “Only yours,” he promises me. “Yours to touch, to taste, to tease. Yours to do whatever the fuck you want with, Ama. So, pretty girl,” he smirks at me, “what will you do with it, hmm?”