Inferno by Bianca D'Arc Page A

woke on the settee across the big room, Dante’s glittering gaze on her. The magic spell Duncan had woven was winding down, though tingling remnants of it still tickled her skin here and there.

    Her legs were splayed over the short arms of the wide lounger, her body dripping with other men’s come. Dante stalked over to her, standing above her with something that looked almost violent in his eyes. She felt no shame, only a return of nearly paralyzing arousal.

    “My turn,” he growled. He cleaned her with clipped motions using a cloth he’d gotten from somewhere. His touch was oddly gentle, if possessive in a harshly exciting way. When he’d wiped evidence of the other men away, he ripped his pants open and bent over her on the small couch-like piece of furniture.

    His big cock slid into her with no preliminaries and no resistance after what she’d just been through. Her arms went around him, holding him close. She didn’t like the fabric of his clothes between them but was so drugged from her earlier climax, she couldn’t summon the strength to push them away.

    Dante gave her a hard, fast fuck that brought her wolf to growling, biting, playful life inside.
    The wolf was happier with this harsh sex play than any she’d had before and it barked like crazy to get her attention. The wolf kept saying something but Megan was too drugged from the earlier encounter to really understand, and rising too rapidly toward another huge orgasm to care.

    Dante pounded into her, anger and jealousy clear in his expression as his head dipped and his fangs dropped. He was going to bite her. She knew he shouldn’t. She was too weak with completion and too distracted by the mounting climax to do anything about it.

    A second before he struck, Duncan was there, pulling on Dante’s shoulder.

    “No biting, my friend. She is still a danger.”

    Dante turned wild eyes on the half-fey warrior and cursed him, baring his fangs. Finally, after a momentary standoff, he sat back, moving away from the temptation of her neck. He stroked deeper in this position, his hard thrusts pushing her up the settee until she was wedged into the little crevice where the back of the small couch met the wide cushion. Dante thrust a few more times, his fingers tugging on her nipples hard enough to make her cry out but perfect enough to make her tremble as her climax began.

    It was a slow build this time that led to an amazing explosion of pleasure. She screamed when he came into her shaking body.

    She chanted his name as he groaned above her, coming hard and driving her still higher into the longest series of pleasure spasms she’d ever known.

    She blacked out again. The last thing she saw was Dante’s fiercely masculine look of conquest.
    He’d gotten what he wanted and staked his ownership, and she couldn’t argue with that one bit.

    When she woke, she was covered by a blanket, her legs and arms tucked under it as she reclined on the settee with a pillow from the bed cushioning her head. Someone had taken care of a few things. For one, they’d cleaned her up and tucked her in. She was sore but didn’t feel the telltale stickiness she’d expected. She hadn’t counted on that kind of caring treatment from a group of bloodletters, one of whom she’d poisoned. Then again, these men had shown her that chivalry wasn’t entirely dead. Even if it was undead.

    She chuckled at her own small pun. These men were the farthest thing from the monsters in the horror movies she’d ever seen. Who knew vampires could be such gentle and fierce lovers? Not all of it was magic induced. There’d been some serious technique in their possession that any woman would welcome. She felt languorous as she lifted her head to look around the room and get her bearings.

    Hugh was gone, and Heath was sitting up in the bed as Duncan checked him. The glow of Duncan’s magic was breathtaking and his smile brought one of relief to her face as well. Dante stood at the bedside,