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He tasted blood and wanted more.
Sinking his fingers deeper into her hair, he circled her waist with his free arm and lifted her against him, pressing her curves against his wanting body. She moaned into his mouth, then a fierce beat of her wings sent them flying backwards.
His shoulders slammed into a tree trunk.
“Damn, woman,” he grunted. “Warn me next time.”
“Just wait.” Her eyes gleamed with challenge, a lustful chirp making music of her words. She was a monster—a predator—and she was glorious in her power. “I want to taste you.”
Thank god the tree’s bark caught at his unbuttoned coat.
Otherwise, his knees would have given way and he’d have sunk to the earth before her. Lord knew she deserved to be worshiped in such a manner, but pride was a fickle beast that demanded he hold his ground.
As if she’d seen the conflict on his face, she tapped his lips. “Stand still.”
“Lady…” He’d spent far too long working in the roughest corners of London to be at ease with a lady like Enid going to her knees before him—even if it was the most erotic sight of his bloody life. He sucked in a ragged breath and tried again. “Lady, please. As a gentleman, and the reason you’re no longer at the ball, it is my duty to pleasure you.”
“We’ll get there.” Claws flicked open his buttons and scraped against his skin.
She worked her way lower. Her hand cupped the shape of him through his trousers.
“Enid…” His vision blurred.
She gave a throaty, chirping chuckle and the buttons holding his trousers in place released. The first stroke of her hand along his heated length had him seeing stars. “My my,” she hummed. “Talk about hidden danger. I would never have imagined such an impressive piece of equipment.”
Her fingers circled him, the tips of her claws teasing his flesh.
He fisted his hand in her hair. “Fuck. Enid.”
“More?” She trailed her tongue along the length of him.
To hell with honor.
“More,” he demanded.
“Very well.” And she swallowed him—all of him.
Her teeth brushed the very base of his cock, while her claws teased his balls. And her throat?
“Holy god.” He gripped a branch with his free hand and held on for dear life.
He’d had it on excellent authority that he was uncomfortably large. The odd time he indulged in a night with a widow or professional lady, he’d been informed that his size was unpleasant. Unwieldy. On those rare nights, after he’d survived a particularly challenging task for his mentor and had desperately sought release, he’d learned to accept faint touches and hasty encounters.
Not here.
Not with her.
“Mmmm.” Her teeth grazed his base, her throat constricting around him, demanding more. It took all of him at once. Held him and worked every inch of him. The sensation was impossible. Exquisite. Despite his effort to hold still, his hips began to thrust toward her ministrations.
His body tensed, demanding release.
He sucked in a breath and pulled her back.
The sight of her eyes, heavy lidded and glazed with passion as she licked her lips nearly sent him over the edge. She snapped her teeth and reached for him again. He firmed his jaw and yanked her back by her hair, narrowly evading those teeth and that magical throat.
He was a gentleman, dammit.
“I refuse to take my release first,” he ground out. “No matter how enticing it is to bury myself in your throat.”
