I Married a Dragon: Para-Mates, Book 2 Read online

“Which are? Not going to say? Then let me guess. You don’t like black chicks. Or a mere secretary isn’t good enough for you. Or—”

  “Stop that.”

  “Stop what? Telling the truth? Don’t like it, white boy?”

  “Don’t denigrate yourself. You’re a powerful, highly attractive, frighteningly intelligent woman. Don’t you dare pull that race shit.”

  I was speechless. Nikos thought I was attractive? And all the other good stuff? He must have felt pretty strongly about it because he’d used almost twenty words. It gave me hope. Maybe he wasn’t avoiding me because he hated me, or worse, just didn’t care. Maybe it was for the one reason I could do something about. The v-reason. When I finally found my voice, it was embarrassingly plaintive. “Then why won’t you even kiss me without pushing me away?”

  “It’s not you. It’s me.”

  “Please. That’s the oldest line—”

  “I’m not good for you. Not safe.”

  Not safe. There is was. “Nikos, you don’t have to play that game.”

  “It’s not a game—”

  “I know you’re a vampire.”

  This time he was the speechless one, but only for an instant. “You don’t know that. You can’t.”

  “Why is Nixie’s hubby so good with blood transfusion equipment? Why do Nixie and Julian need not one but two assistants—who are coincidentally inhumanly gorgeous? If you’re not a vampire, why did you stop me from opening the window blind on the plane? Why the underground exit at the airport and the limo with mirrored windows?”

  The hard line of his lips softened. “You think I’m gorgeous?”

  Out of everything, he picked that. “Yeah. But you’d be more gorgeous kissing me.”

  He palmed my cheek. He was so big he didn’t even have to scoot closer to do it. “Twyla, guessing vampire isn’t the same as knowing. Reality would shock you. Scare you. That’s unacceptable.” His thumb caressed me, telling me other things.

  Ooh, over a dozen words. A whole Shakespeare soliloquy for him. “I’m looking for thrills. So shock me a little.” I leaned into his hand.

  His head bent, his mouth dropping to my throat. The heat of his breath, the coolness it left on intake, played like an intimate fan on my skin. “I…want to. But—” He straightened. “No. You don’t know.”

  “Then show me.” I had a brief internal struggle. I’m not by nature an exhibitionist but something had to be done, quickly, while I had him trapped. Once we got back to Meiers Corners he’d have the whole town in which to hide. My jacket was already open. I yanked T-shirt and bra up. My breasts popped free, bouncing.

  His eyes shot open, blazing sienna. His granite jaw loosened. His chest inflated like he couldn’t breathe. And then—

  Fangs. I saw fangs.

  Nothing could have proven Nikos’s point better. Guessing vampire was certainly not the same as being trapped in a limo with an aroused one.

  Before I could even squeak my dismay he swung me onto his lap and wrapped me in arms of steel. I’m a nice curvy size six but sitting on his tree-trunk thighs, looking up into his flaming eyes, I really got sexual dimorphism. Slamming it home, his mouth slanting over mine covered real estate from Boise to Philly.

  His lips landed moving, muscular ripples as strong and potent as the rest of him. They laved me like pounding surf, crashed through my flimsy barriers with hot desire.

  I’d barely gotten used to overwhelmingly big Nikos kissing me when the whole fang thing hit. Smooth, long canines pressed like warm ivory against my lips. His tongue worked between them, teasing. Tongue, lips and fang together drove me a little nuts. I poked the tip of my tongue out for just a taste.

  Rumbling his approval, he sipped at it. He caressed it between his own lips, silk and velvet and an intoxicating male taste. His tongue flicked the tip of mine in return, his so big it swiped half my mouth. He licked me again, maybe to tease my lips open, but his size made it more of a demand. I surrendered, lips parting on a breathless moan.

  An instant later self-preservation kicked in. Vampire, fangs, trapped with a very big, aroused male. I closed up.

  Too late. He swept into my mouth like a conquering warrior. His tongue was a flaming sword, stabbing deep, plumbing every dark mystery I had, licking me with light and blazing heat. I groaned.

  Klaus had been a good kisser. A pointillist, every daub of tongue and swish of lips placed precisely so. Nikos was a modern master, throwing aggressive splashes of bright color across aching, empty canvas. I wriggled at the size and feel of him, the taste of him, potent and smooth as aged whiskey or absinthe.

  He pulled me tighter to contain my wiggles and captured me completely. His arms wrapped me from head to hips, one hand cupping my head. The other cupped my breast.

  I have Tafel breasts, round heavy globes that overflow men’s hands. They fitted perfectly in Nikos’s. My nipple slotted between his fingers. He pinched it erect. Need sparked. Any fear drowned in the wash of desire. He kissed sweeter than a dream, and his hand on my breast was oh-so-tutored, pinching and fondling.

  He shifted me, pillowing my head on the enormous deltoid of his shoulder. Then he kissed me harder, deeper, pushing me into his own muscled strength. It left his hand free to plunge down my jeans directly onto my nub.

  He petted my clit in welcome. At my gasp his tongue plunged deeper, began to drive into me. He kissed with the rhythm of sex, but he wiggled his finger on my clit lightly, almost teasingly. I rocked my hips, asking for more. Asking for the same fire as his kiss.

  His hand withdrew. I whimpered until I heard a pop and a rasp, and my pants loosened. When he dove back in, his thick finger went straight into my aching body. His thumb grabbed my clit, his finger thrust deep inside, and he pinched.

  My eyes shot open. Sweet Monet, yes. I arched into his chest. Licked his lips eagerly. “That feels amaz—”

  He cut me off by laying claim to my mouth. He kissed me fiercely, his fingers pinching breast and pussy in rhythm. I rubbed myself against his crisp shirt, grabbed his shorn head and gave myself over to the wonder of it.

  And he demanded more. His finger plunged harder. His tongue thrust deeper, opened me so far my jaw ached. It stabbed everywhere, lighting passion, demanding surrender. No part of my mouth went unclaimed by his hot, virile possession, inside or out. As his tongue thrust, his sleek fangs rode my throbbing lips.

  I tried to kiss him back, brushing mouth and fang indiscriminately in my zeal. He groaned, and his fangs grew longer. It reminded me I had only guessed.

  I lifted my chin. “Bite me. I want to know.”

  His eyes were closed, lashes a jet fringe against his hewn cheeks. “Not yet.” His lids lifted, revealing dilated pits of red fire. He pinched my nipple, slowly, deliciously.

  “Not yet?” I shuddered, wriggled on his finger thrust inside my body. He seized me more firmly, driving a second finger deep, and shook my entire vulva until I writhed.

  When he let up I opened my eyes and panted. “What do you mean, not yet?”

  He smiled, desire burning in his eyes. It was frightening, it was heady. “This.”

  He tossed me onto the seat next to him and yanked my jeans to my knees. I tried to scramble up but he knelt in the seat well, restrained me with an arm dropped across my torso, and spun me toward the seat back. A hand pressed my face into the seat, another clasped my knees and held them down. I couldn’t see what he—

  Breath seared my labia. A flaming tongue thrust me open. I jerked hard against him. He contained me easily. “You wanted shocking. Take it.”

  He started to lap at me, great swipes of tongue that went deep into my body. I writhed against the invasion, embarrassed at how swollen and open I already was. It was only a start. He rode me with his tongue until I was mewling. His fangs nicked my lips and inner thighs as he worked me. Each tiny prick scored me with pleasure.

  I could only imagine how thrilling his actual bite would be. “Nikos—bite me. Now. Please.”

  “Not yet.”
His rumbling purr buzzed against my wet, licked-open flesh.

  I writhed violently but his great strength reduced it to mere ripples. “Then when?”

  “Soon.” He thrust one finger inside and licked delicately at the hood of my clit.

  I shrieked. As he plunged that thick finger rhythmically into me, I began to pant. I’d wanted shocking, sure, but he could have given me shocking simply by biting me. Instead a male of vast experience was doing his damnedest to make sex thrilling for me. That went beyond shocking to electrifying. He thrust a second finger deep. I curled into the seat at the intensity of it. He beat into me with two fingers, licked ardently at my nub.

  I gasped. “Nikos, it’s too much.” My hips beat back, at least as much as he let them. His fingers sank deeper with every thrust, until I wanted to cry, until I wanted to scream. “Bite me. Please, I’m begging you.”

  “Mmm. Nice. But not yet.” He began to suck at me and I moaned and pleaded and railed against him until I wept. He ignored it all, sucking and licking and thrusting with the same forceful, demanding rhythm.

  Until I groaned to my very soul. “I…I’m coming…”

  “Ah.” His deep voice was filled with satisfaction. “Now I bite.”

  ‘Tis far better to love in hell than to live in heaven.

  Duncan’s Descent

  © 2008 Marie Harte

  Ethereal Foes

  As a demon of the Ethereal, it’s Duncan Sinclair’s job to sway humans toward the path to hell. Duncan is very good at his job—until a prank gone wrong lands him in the upper realm doing penance. Now he’s being bombarded with love, kindness, and affectionate sex…and it’s killing him. The only way out is to agree to sway souls for heaven, with an angel as his partner, by all that’s unholy!

  Sapphira may be an angel of the upper realm, but she chafes in a bland existence where everything is so pure. It’s hard to hide her secret yearning for sin. Even harder with Duncan, who’s everything the dark core of her soul craves: handsome, sexy and refreshingly naughty.

  Confronted with an angel who drinks, swears, and takes him to bliss with her sinfully delightful body, Duncan finds himself at risk of losing his heart to the enemy.

  Loving this angel could land him right where he doesn’t want to be—heaven. But what’s a demon to do when he’s falling?

  Warning: This title contains annoying angels, smart-assed demons, beer, hotter-than-hell sex, and justice for all.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Duncan’s Descent:

  She blinked and quickly turned away from the passion in his gaze. “Ah, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come here first.” Glancing down, she seemed to notice she’d finished her second beer already. To Duncan’s amusement, she looked none the worse for wear. His angel, apparently, could drink a mean game.

  “Another?” Before she could protest, Duncan waved the lone waitress to their table. She stumbled all over herself to help him, and he had her return with four more beers, on the house. After the waitress left, he donned a put-upon expression. “Sapphira, I’m not done drinking yet. I’d like another.” He nodded to Sapphira to finish hers. “Drink while we talk. It’ll make my presence that much easier to bear,” he added caustically.

  “Good point.” Sapphira started on another, and Duncan hid a smirk. If this kept up, she’d be the fastest seduction he’d ever made. And despite the poor challenge she presented, his hunger deepened at thoughts of taking such a ripe, sensual female.

  “Now tell me more about Shepherd. He’s on the fence about his Decision, right? So what’s heaven’s angle?”

  As she told him what Uriel had explained to her when she’d disappeared while Duncan had been changing, he lost the train of conversation as he studied her. Such earnest intentions. She truly appeared to believe in commanding the souls they’d been sent to find. Yet the spark of darkness, the mischief Duncan could feel bubbling just under her skin warmed him.

  And damned if he didn’t find her heinously attractive. Heinous, he thought, was too good a word for it. Duncan had lost count of all the women he’d slept with in his short four hundred years. He’d had all manners of race, size and shape, and had no real preferences for any particular color. Gender, however, mattered. Unlike James, Duncan preferred females. His brother…the book hadn’t yet been written, but it wouldn’t surprise Duncan to find James sharing sex with a man in his future.

  Sapphira, however, was as far from a man as a woman might be. Her darker skin had a richness, a vibrancy that made him think of home. And though he loved females in all shapes and sizes, preferably ones who liked sex without so much love and devotion attached, he’d always been drawn to a full, womanly shape. Though tall and slender in some places, in others Sapphira kicked with curves. She had full breasts that would fill his palms, he was sure. He’d mentally cupped them a dozen times since seeing her. And that ass… He finished his beer and downed half of another one.

  That ass would feel right as he held her down and fucked her again and again. He could too easily imagine riding her, channeling into that sweet pussy before taking her in the ass, where no one ever had before. She had most likely had sex, but he doubted her partners had been very creative. Duncan snorted. Angels were incredibly boring. In his eternity of a stay in the upper realm, he’d received blowjobs and taken a few angels missionary style. But nothing more creative than coming over a pair of tits.

  Sapphira, now, she’d be an inventive lover. She’d swallow him whole with those full lips, taking him deep in the back of her throat. And when he finished coming, he’d pull her around on her hands and knees, spread her wide, and shove his dick into her ass, easing through her tight tissue with steady pressure until she gave him her all.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Sapphira asked unsteadily, the glimmer of blurred annoyance in her gaze a sign from the dark powers, surely.

  “We stopped here for you.” Duncan snapped his fingers and dropped the wad of cash that suddenly appeared on the table, a thank you to his hell-bent waitress. “Now I need a stop before we collar Shepherd for your team. Humor me, angel.” He grinned at her irritation. “I’ll try to be quick.” The first time.

  “Oh, all right. As long as you promise not to mention this little side trip.” She stood without wavering and preceded him out the back door. He wondered if he’d made a mistake about her sobriety. Then she turned and gave him a sloppy smile. “I did it for you, to show you I can take whatever you have to dish out. I’m not one of them, not really.” She glared up at the sky. “I’m so much more than that.”

  Thanking Lucifer for his good fortune, Duncan caught Sapphira in his arms and turned her against the only clean part of the wall he could see.

  “How much more, angel? Show me.” He fused his mouth to hers, stealing any protest. But a second after inhaling her breath, he was lost to her touch. And in moments nothing mattered but getting as close to his angel as humanly, or demonly, possible.

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