Chapter 8

Bram saw Twyla shrug from the corner of his eye. "I like it here," she replied to his question. "Sometimes the Pixie court can be kind of - confining."

"Court, huh? So you really are a princess?"

"Yeah. Queen Mab is my mother. Since you've been calling me princess, I assumed you knew."

"Nope. But when I saw you in that crappy witch costume, my first thought was that Pendleton had goofed. He should have cast you as a fairy princess."

"Not fairy, but close." She gave another little laugh. "Just like I knew you weren't a real vamp, but you were just as dangerous."

"Never to you, baby. You know that don't you?"

"Yeah, I know." Strangely enough she did trust him not to hurt her, at least physically. He might like it rough, but she knew he'd never really inflict damage on a partner. But what about to her heart? Twyla chewed on her lower lip and stared out the windshield of the monster car in silence. She'd never fallen for a guy like this - not ever. And even though she couldn't have pulled back from him if she'd wanted to - which she really didn't - the whole idea was still almost as scary as the damned satyrs.

He parked in a small brick-paved lot in the oldest part of the city - a place where some of the streets were too narrow to accommodate a car. She loved this part of town, the mellow red brick of the buildings had always seemed so warm and cozy. Bram led her down one of the narrow lanes to a three-story townhouse. The soft glow of the streetlamps showed a red-painted door and a bronze doorknocker in the shape of a dragon. She touched the metal sculpture, admiring the sleek lines that managed to convey both strength and courage.

"Truth in advertising?"

He laughed. "A bit. The humans just think it's a piece of artwork. And if any of the non-human bad guys come snooping around, I consider it fair warning. Nobody's tried to get past the wards on the place and break in yet, anyway."

He unlocked the door and drew her inside. A lamp glowed from the parlor off the tiny foyer, showing a comfortably furnished room, in keeping with the three-hundred-year-old character of the house, but not fussily so. Before she could look any closer, Bram closed the front door behind him and scooped her up into his arms. He took a few long strides into the parlor

"Not going to make it upstairs this time, princess."

"Good." She was already wet, just from sitting next to him in the car. She didn't want to wait.

After one deep, wet kiss, he set her down on a plush sofa then strode over to the fireplace which had logs and kindling waiting in the grate. He pulled back the screen and blew gently, his fiery breath igniting the newspapers and twigs. Then he replaced the screen and stood before the hearth on a thick, fluffy fake bearskin rug. "Come here."

She didn't even have to think about it. As she moved toward him, she pulled his shirt off over her head and tossed it aside. "Your wings are gorgeous." She'd seen them in the moonlight and the parking lot, but now the flickering flames reflected off their metallic bronze scales. They were bigger than hers, muscular, with pointed tips and tough scaled membranes. She reached out a hand to touch the sleek folds, pleased when he shivered at her touch.

"So are yours. How badly do they hurt?" He took her by the shoulders and turned her around so he could examine them. His voice was low and resonant, thick with desire.

"Not much." They were pretty scraped up and more than a little bruised, but not seriously torn. She unfolded them from their usual position along her spine for him to look at - and touch.

"Poor princess." He dropped little kisses and licks along her small dragonfly-style wings, the drug in his saliva soothing the sore spots. She looked down at her wrists, realized her burns were more than half healed already. Damn, he should bottle the stuff. When he took the sensitive tip of one wing into his mouth and laved it with his tongue, she moaned at the pleasure which was both relaxing and sexual at the same time. Meanwhile one of his hands snaked around her hips to palm her mound.

"I'd love to tie you up again, but I don't want to hurt your wrists." He licked up her spine between her wings. "So we'll save that for another night."

There was going to be another night? Thank the gods and goddesses! He could tie her up anywhere, anytime he wanted. She even had some velvet covered handcuffs he could use. But right now she wanted him inside her, without taking time for unnecessary fun and games. Her legs gave out beneath her and she sank to her knees on the rug. "Now, Bram."

He followed her down, kneeling behind her. He bent his head to her ear to nuzzle and whisper. "Lean forward on your elbows."

Oh yeah! She bent forward at the waist, braced her elbows on the rug, which canted her ass upward. The fluffy rug teased her nipples as her breasts swung beneath her. Bram's hands gripped her hips and his rock-hard penis grazed her butt before he flexed his hips and drove inside her weeping pussy in one fierce thrust. He was so deep he seemed to fill up every bit of space inside her, skin to skin.

He leaned over and nipped the point where her neck met her shoulder. The sensation was so erotic and compelling she pushed back with her butt, driving his cock even deeper into her already-pulsing cunt and cried out his name.

"Twyla!" He straightened his spine and pounded his cock into her pussy, hard and fast and deep. She gripped the rug hard with her hands, rocking back against him as each stroke rubbed her hyper-sensitized nipples against the artificial fur. Another mini orgasm shook her body each time the he filled her. "Take me inside you, Twyla. Take all of me."

"Everything," she vowed. "Anything you want. Just keep fucking me like this forever."

"Always!" She knew it was just sex talk, but she'd never wanted to believe anything more. "You." Thrust. "Are." Thrust. "Mine!" With one more deep thrust, he sent them both over the edge into a screaming kaleidoscope of an orgasm and colored lights burst around the room like fireworks. Her pussy contracted hard to grip his penis tightly, trying to milk every drop of his hot, spurting seed. She whimpered when he pulled out after the first rush to pump himself with a fist, but it turned to a moan of pleasure when he cried out her name and sprayed the rest of his cum all over her back and wings and ass.