Page 12 of Reveal Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #2)

Niamh

I was still trying to catch my breath, panting as though I had run miles and couldn’t catch up.

My heart pounded against my chest like a wild thing, racing faster than I could process.

My mind was up in the clouds—drifting, spinning, lost in the echo of Dion’s kiss between my thighs.

The heat from his lips still lingered on mine because he was still kissing me down there.

I’d never had a guy keep kissing my pussy after a very obvious, very strong, very long orgasm.

The man’s tongue had to be swollen. I’d clenched hard enough to crush a cucumber, and I hadn’t clenched around emptiness.

His tongue had been buried inside me. I should apologize for castrating it.

Except he was still using it to lap at the juices slipping down between the crevices of my spread thighs.

My body—damn it—felt like it was on fire.

I was shaking. My hands were clenched so tightly my nails left crescent moons in my palms. The tremors rattled through my limbs, a sensation I couldn’t shake.

But I wasn’t on the ground. No, I was still held in Dion’s arms. His warm, solid body pressed against me, grounding me even as my head spun.

He was a damn magnet, and I was stuck, caught in his pull like a helpless moth to a flame.

I should have pulled away, should have pushed him off and reminded myself of the reasons I was supposed to reject him. He was cheating on me… with me. He’d tried and failed to stay faithful to me… until he wrapped his tongue around my clit.

But it was my clit. Not some other woman’s. I should feel vindicated. My plan had worked. But had it? The logic that had seemed so bright just an hour ago went dim as Dion suckled the few remaining brain cells out of my head and down through my core.

I was coming again. Fuck, that was twice in fifteen minutes. Or maybe it had been an hour. Time was a construct I no longer could make sense of.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady myself, but I could only hear the thundering beat of my heart and the soft sound of his breath against my skin.

His arms were a cage around my thighs as he continued to lick and suckle.

I’d had lovers that were good at giving head, but not this enthusiastic. Never this ravenous.

His scent was intoxicating—wild, earthy, and with just the faintest hint of something musky and primal that made every inch of me burn. I had to force myself to breathe deeply. My lungs couldn’t seem to take in enough air. Because I was coming again.

I had to tell him to stop, but I was too busy screaming, shaking, gasping.

With practiced fingers, the man divested me of my clothing. His hands traced the hem of my dress. His fingers skimmed across the fabric, brushing against my skin, sending shivers spreading through my body. He was taking his time, studying me, letting his hands speak where words failed.

When the dress fell to the floor, leaving me in nothing but a bra—since he’d bitten off my panties—I didn’t feel exposed or vulnerable. I knew what I looked like, knew I was desirable. Satisfaction with what he saw was clearly written on his face.

Dion didn’t touch me again, not immediately. He simply looked at me—at all of me—with a gaze that stripped away the years of armor I had built around myself. I held my breath as he traced the edge of my bra. His touch was steady, deliberate, as though he were savoring the moment.

His fingers worked to unhook the garment. As the straps slipped from my shoulders, the feeling of his fingers on my skin was so careful it made my heart race even faster. He didn’t rush. He didn’t pull away. He stayed with me.

We were no longer just two strangers—two people caught in the throes of a bond neither of us wanted. We were connected. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could trust someone. That someone was me. And I wanted him.

Which was not what I wanted. I was supposed to be rejecting him. Rejecting my fated mate. Just like he was rejecting me.

The other me. Not this me.

Didn’t this prove that he would still fuck anyone that threw herself at him?

So why wasn’t he fucking me yet? Why was he just looking? And why was that look filled with such care and reverence, like this was the last woman on earth that he was ever going to fuck?

Because I kinda was. This version of me. That’s why he was doing this. Because he thought that after this he would go back to her—yeah, back to me—and only fuck her.

Which wasn’t going to happen. That me, the real me, she was going to be the one to reject him.

But this me, this fake me. She was going to fuck her fated mate and get it out of her system. Then tomorrow I’d reject him and be done with it.

Great plan, Niamh.

Dion’s thumb brushed lightly across my lips.

I tasted myself on his fingertip. I loved the musk of sex.

It turned me on. The smell of it. The taste of it.

I wanted his taste in my mouth. I wanted him to kiss me.

I wanted his cock in my mouth. I wanted his cock in me.

I wanted those strong arms around me as I came.

I wanted to fall asleep curled up against him, knowing that nothing could ever hurt me while I lay beside the one who claimed me.

What the fuck? No, no, no, no. I did not want to be claimed.

I was supposed to fight it, wasn’t I? I had to, didn’t I? As his lips hovered over mine again, I felt like everything inside of me was screaming to surrender, to let go.

So just for tonight, I did. I let go.

Dion let go of me. He stood tall and proud. He watched me as I watched him undress.

I swear the man was a golden god. Golden brown skin. Hair like sunrays. A smatter of fine golden hair on his chest. And then that cock.

He was not exaggerating. It was long and thick. It didn’t curve to the right or left. It pointed straight at me.

I found myself thinking that if this was going to be the last dick I ever had, I wouldn’t be mad.

My pussy was swollen. My labials limp little flaps. My clit fat and full. But the moment the crown of his cock breeched my entrance, I was hungry again.

He didn’t take his time. We’d already had the foreplay with that oral and two… or was it three orgasms? I’d lost count. And that had been him warming up.

Dion fucked into me hard. No preamble. No asking if I was ready. Because he knew I was. He’d made damn sure I was ready to take him.

He said nothing as he fucked me. Neither did I. We just let our bodies talk.

He found my G-spot in seconds. In moments, my body was building to another climax.

I closed my eyes and saw stars as I came around all that thickness.

There was no give inside me. The sensations just bumped into each other, making the vibrations of the orgasm last longer than any I’d ever had before.

Stars turned into supernovas. Galaxies formed and burst and became something new. When I opened my eyes, the king of Panthera was looking down at me. He was more beast than man.

Dion’s muscles were taut. His breathing was ragged. His eyes glowing with a wildness in the way he looked at me. His teeth were bared. Was he going to bite me? Mark me?

I knew this was a shifter thing. Had he done this with other women? No. No, he couldn’t have. A shifter’s mark was sacred, something only bestowed upon their mate, their true other half.

Dion’s jaw clenched, and I watched him fight to control himself, struggling to close his mouth. It wasn’t just his battle—I was fighting, too. Fighting the yearning that surged inside me, fighting the bond that was being forged between us, one I didn’t know if I could resist even if I wanted to.

When his lips finally closed, I felt a deep, quiet loss that I couldn’t explain.

It was a quiet ache that settled in the pit of my stomach, even as my body trembled beneath him.

We both were coming undone, our bodies seizing in a wild, desperate rhythm—arms tangled, legs locked, groins grinding together in an almost painful urgency.

We continued to hold on to each other, even as we both tried to let go.