Obsidian Flame Read Online Free Page A

with a strong tug deep inside. “I could come just looking at you,” she said.
    He smiled. He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down. But unlike her, he caught his briefs at the same time so that his package sprang free and now it was her turn to lick her lips. Yep, almost as big as Thorne.
    Funny how she kept thinking about Thorne and yet it no longer bothered her. Guess she was making progress.
    About time.
    José grabbed her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed. He knelt, then he got busy.
    “ Muy bueno ,” she murmured.

 
    Obsidian flame, above all else, requires surrender.
    And surrender is never for the faint of heart.
    — Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth
    CHAPTER 2
     
    Sweat popped all across Thorne’s forehead, but he wasn’t sure of the cause—whether it was the energy required to sustain the man he’d morphed into, or the sight of his woman bare, completely bare.
    Oh … God.
    His pulse throbbed in his neck. He wanted to sink his fangs and give her the potion she loved, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t even sure if in this form he could use his fangs.
    Pity.
    God, the things he wanted to do to Marguerite. Now that the breh-hedden had slammed him hard, all the usual desire he felt for her had about tripled so that he wept from his erection and his pulse pounded at every hinge of his body.
    He lowered to her mons and swept his cheeks over the smooth soft skin. He kissed her repeatedly, savoring all that bareness as well as her familiar whimpers of pleasure. In the Convent, where he’d made love to her just about every morning at dawn, he’d cast a tent of mist over them both to keep the noisiness of their lovemaking from reaching other parts of the building.
    He didn’t have to do that now.
    He trembled as he slid his arms under her knees. Her deep red-rose scent perfumed the air and worked him up. He was hard as a rock.
    He didn’t know what to do first—kiss her or lick her or just stare at what was to his eyes so beautiful, a perfect work of art.
    He kissed her some more, his lips against her moist, swollen lips, plucking, adding a little nip then a suck. He kissed her in a line all the way to her opening … but that’s when things went a little haywire because she was already thrashing on the bed and he was working to hold her tight but dammit, his tongue decided he had to have her.
    He thrust his tongue in and out of her hard, like he was fucking her, like he couldn’t get deep enough. She came rising up off the bed but he kept her hips pinned down. Was she aware that she was using her preternatural strength and that only with a matching power did he keep her from flying off the bed?
    Probably not, because as he thrust into her and thrust and thrust, she screamed her orgasm. But he kept it up, looking up at her when he could, watching the ecstasy on her face, savoring the pleasure she felt. He brought her a second time and a third.
    He was in trouble now, though. He could feel the vibrations in his body and had to work to keep from changing back.
    At the same time, he had to have her.
    He rose up and while she was still caught in the remnants of an orgasm, he shoved himself deep inside, which sent her once more flying up. He landed on top of her, pressing her into the mattress, grounding her.
    He fucked her, hard. Shoving into her, pulling back, shoving in, watching her thrash some more beneath him. Her moans had turned into wild grunts and cries.
    He was two men now, one in the throes of sex, the other struggling to hold his shape as José. His lower back tightened, his balls ready to fire off.
    When the orgasm came, when he began to jerk, he lifted off her, supporting himself with his arms, his hips bucking into her. He looked down at her. “Look at me,” he commanded.
    She opened her eyes, which were wild with passion. She could hardly focus. He kept pumping as he held her gaze. This was his woman and he loved her. This was his woman, Marguerite, and he had a drive toward