Of Blood & Consequence (Book 2 of The Blood Bond Series)

16. Where They Belong

Michael needed her desperately—now more than ever. His mind usually spun with his past regrets, but having Delia in his arms pushed all of them aside where they belonged.

In the past.

Their two bodies tangled on the couch, clothing ripping as they both sought to get closer, tear away the layers that separated them and combine in feverish delight.

“Christ, Delia,” he groaned before his mouth pressed against hers again, desperately breaking her lips apart with a smooth, sure tongue. It swept inside her and flickered there. Her stomach flipped, and she melted into the kiss, stripping away everything that wasn’t them. No parents, no organized crime, not even the smallest part of her she hadn’t shared with him yet.

And she would. Very, very soon.

Her doodling, after all, wasn’t doodling at all.

It was only the subject matter that was embarrassing for her to admit to.

But that, too, would be something she could deal with. Michael’s truths were hers as well, for they were bonded completely, and his blood had mingled with hers when they first joined as one months ago—when he’d let her change her, make her his in every way.

Make them each other’s.

They bit at each other’s skin much in the same way they tore the clothing from the other—desperate, needy. The fabric was in tatters on the floor next to the couch, Delia’s body rising over his before he could stop her from lowering herself onto his awaiting manhood. She inched down slowly, Michael drawing in a rasping breath as she encased him completely before leaning forward to take his mouth.

She pulled his hands over her chest, placing them where her heart didn’t beat, but still felt the lifeless organ resting in there.

“My heart, Michael. It doesn’t beat anymore, but it’s still there, and you’re there with it.”

“f**k, sposina,” he growled, and closed his lips around one of her n*****s.

Her back arched as she ground down onto his c**k, her back bowing and stretching, his sure hands on her keeping her body from falling to the floor.

She lifted up, churned her hips on the downward stroke—slowly, ever so slowly as she felt him lengthen and throb inside her.

“s**t, cara, what you do to me.” He wanted to say it all, how she owned him, body and soul, how this always going to be enough for him, the quake of her thighs around him, the way she clasped tight and pulled him in, their sometimes wordless, wildest love, one always intrinsically knowing just what the other needed.

Soundless. Boundless.

Most of all, how everything centered around her in his life. Every action. Every decision. Down to the minutest detail, she was the focus, and always would be.

Her hips met with his, over and over again until she was crying out a quick release, the hot embrace of her cunt squeezing his shaft until he was close to coming as well. His hands stilled her, but she ground against him, riding out the waves of her climax like a bull rider in some old honky-tonk in the south.

He flipped her over onto the couch once she was done squeezing the life out of his c**k, her ass offered in the air for him and his d**k jutting out like an exclamation point from his lap. Squeezing the lush mounds with his fingers, he dropped his head low, licking her from her clit to her asshole, tracing a line slowly with his tongue.

She squirmed and bared down on his face every time his tongue met with her pulsing little bud, and she cried out for more as his hands spread her cheeks and tongued her slick flesh all the way to her tight little asshole.

Burying his face between her legs, he sucked at her p***y lips, kissing, nibbling, drawing them into his mouth. Her soft flesh parted easily for his tongue, and he licked up inside her, bringing her sweet cream into his mouth as she gushed for him.

“Michael!”

He growled, nipped at one of her folds before tugging at it with his teeth. As more heated honey slipped down his throat, and he drew in a breath, the sweet, spicy musk of plumeria scenting everything around him, drowning him and pulling him deeper, like he was under a spell she’d unwittingly cast over him.

His hand cracked against one cheek, nearly rocketing Delia off his face before he was pulling her back in.

Her hand gripped his hair, and she rode his face until she was calling out another spectacular climax.

Michael twisted her body onto his lap again, slamming his hips to hers as he guided her up and down his c**k, driving up as she faced away from him, her s*x still quivering around him from her last orgasm.

Her chest heaved in gasping pants, her ass bouncing against him, completely out of her control as he took over, ramming his thick length into her over and over again.

Nothing civilized about this manner of s*x. All the pent-up emotion was coming out in raw, heated pleasure, and the tight clasp of her p***y around him, milking him, nearly shot him off deep inside her, time and time again.

He gave one deep thrust, causing her to slip off his lap. He was there, though, and pulling her over behind the couch, bending her over it until he split her again, riding her until she was almost weeping with pleasure.

His hips ground on every stroke, his hands giving her ass hard cracks that reddened her cheeks and caused her arousal to spike even higher.

She was shoved forward, the couch moving until it nudged up against the coffee table. Michael pulled her back to his chest, riding her g-spot like that for a few minutes as he nibbled the flesh around her mark. It was as sensitive as always, and the tightening of her hot p***y around him had him pulling out, not wanting to come until she was f****d up against the wall and at his mercy.

Or maybe even after that. He could think of a few surfaces he could defile by taking her there.

Growling, he sank his teeth into her shoulder, sucking her sweet ambrosia as his hips pumped and thighs shook. After a moment of drinking her sweet essence into throat, he hauled himself off her, his head whipping around to find the perfect place to take her against the wall. He spied a likely spot in between a display case and the entrance to the kitchen, and he slammed her up against the wall, only slightly surprised when the whole room seemed to shake.

With a snarl against her neck, he lifted her up and onto his c**k, letting her slide down as his tongue dragged up her middle. As his tongue dipped and swooped, savoring the flavor of her skin, his strong, impenetrable arms hooked under her knees, bringing them over his broad shoulders as his pelvis slammed into her ass, shooting her up and nearly off him as her head tilted back. A cry passed her lips as her fingernails scored his hard pecs, and Michael’s hands held her steady as he pounded away at her.

She shot off like a Roman candle for him. It would truly surprise him if one of his neighbors didn’t call to complain. He was friendly with the security on duty, but knew even he had to abide by the rules, and it was getting dangerously close to quiet time for the building.

As his lips parted and tongue darted out to wet them, he drove forward, latching onto one of Delia’s pink-tipped n*****s to tug on with his teeth. Growling into her flesh, he powered up even harder, his hands running over the sleek lines of her middle, the soft roundness of her ass, pushing her ankles closer to his neck before hastily dropping her to the floor and attempting to turn away.

That didn’t matter, because as soon as Delia’s feet met with the floor, she was folding herself to the ground, grabbing his c**k and licking up the wetness from the base of his c**k all the way to the tip.

His fingers forked through her hair as heat sizzled and burned its way to his spine from his balls. When she closed her mouth around him and sucked, it nearly tossed him over and he hissed, his ass flexing as he attempted to stem the burn.

Michael wasn’t going to come in her mouth—not tonight. He wanted to fill her up when he came, feel the hot clench of her s*x around him, listen to her sounds as they buzzed in his ears.

“Jesus, baby.” All sense flew out from under him, and he watched her mouth slide up and down his c**k, the sight nearly rendering him speechless. “Oh, fuck.”

He wanted to say all the words to her, but none came readily. Sure, they filtered through his mind in a tumble, but nothing of any sense fell from his lips except sounds that were too harsh and muddled, but still had her moaning around the hot length of his c**k.

She watched him through thick, light-brown lashes that feathered across her damp cheeks and up against moist eyelids. With her lips widening as he pumped inside her, small tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as his d**k stabbed the back of her throat. Delia choked, but when he went to pull back, she held onto him tighter, sucking him in and floundering to retain her gag reflex.

He eventually pulled her up from the ground, crushing her mouth to his and licking his way inside. When he ground against her and started to pull her back toward the couch, she gave a displeased noise, making him grin against her lips.

“You want my mouth on you so bad, amore? I say it’s going to be between your legs.”

Throwing her onto the couch, he dragged her body so her ass hung off the end, and he sat between her legs on the floor before drawing her thighs over his shoulders. There, her separated her folds with a thumb, stroked the moist hood of her clit before placing his mouth there, giving her a wet kiss before licking her up and down slowly, methodically. He tested the sounds she made, lapped harder when she gave him her deepest moans.

His fingers ran over her soft skin, flattening over her waist and up her belly until he weighed her heavy breasts with each palm, plucking at her n*****s until they scraped at his skin.

Prickles of pleasure slid up his spine as her sounds became louder, the assured precursor or her orgasm. Just as her muscles tightened and flexed against him, she let go, awash with pleasure as it coursed over her body and spread out to each finger and toe.

Watching her come like that nearly made him let go himself, and he palmed his erection, pressing to where it ached the most.

Not letting her come down from the waves crashing over her, he swiveled her body so she was lying lengthwise across the couch, his hands parting her a second before he slammed himself up into her, lurching her up on the couch with a cry.

Licking up her throat as he glided in and out of her, he gave her the words that now scrambled back and forth in his brain, finding the fastest way out of his mouth through a torrent of curses.

“You like how I f**k you like this, cuore? How fast and raw my c**k feels inside you? You like it?”

His hand wrapped around her throat, his c**k driving into her faster as her eyes fluttered closed. Delia clenched around him, cinching him tight as his words filtered through her ears and reached deep inside.

“Answer me, Delia,” he hissed into her ear.

“Yes! f**k, yes!”

She came, her back a perfect arch and her hair tossing as she wailed and constricted around him.

It was enough for Michael, and he released inside her, coming with a roar and hard jerks of his hips until he’d completely emptied out.

He collapsed and pulled out, maneuvering her so that he was big spoon to her little spoon, running his hands up and down the curve of her hips, to her waist, and higher.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he pressed his lips to the skin over her shoulder. Each peck was tender, sweet, and Delia’s chest expanded to try and encompass all the emotions she felt at the moment.

Happiness, satisfaction. Completeness.

A trickle of doubt about Michael’s parents sent ice shivering up her spine, but even then she knew she was right where she belonged, right where she would always belong.