Page 162 of Ruthless Scoundrel

Jasper’s full eyes watch my face, his thin lips pulled back and his mouth open. He trills unendingly and that vibration rocks me to the core, ripping another orgasm from me with such force I slam my head back.

He whips his tail, pounding me against the rock so hard I see stars. His trill reaches a new pitch, so low and resonate it disturbs the foundation of the lake. And then his mouth is on me. Sharp and fast, his teeth sink into my shoulder.

His thrusting is frenzied and the sensations of pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure muddles my brain. I scream out again, unsure if I’m orgasming, dying, or ascending as a goddess. It feels like an unmaking. Aremaking.

My blue magic spools out of me in long tendrils and spears into Jasper’s back. Opal twists with it and surges back into me. We’re connected, intertwined in body, magic, and spirit.

He moans long and loud under the trill and the knot at his base swells impossibly thicker. He thrusts one last time and then stills, keeping himself lodged inside me.

Our magic calms, receding into us. Not dead, and probably not a goddess. He extracts his fangs from my shoulder and immediately sends a wave of healing magic over the wound, staunching the flow of dark blood in the water.

He cups my cheek and runs his thin mouth over my lips like a kiss. “Are you all right?”

I kiss him back. “I’m perfect.”

“You are,” he says, smiling his predator’s smile.

“And so are you,” I say, tracing his sharp cheek, his wide jaw, his thin lips.

He drops his forehead until we touch, and closes his eyes. “You’re mine now, sunshine, as long as you live.”

“That isn’t enough,” I say. “I want more.”

“How much more?”

“Forever,” I whisper, kissing him again and again. “I want you forever.”