Sinister Pretty (Alexa O'Brien Huntress Book 11) by Trina M. Lee

Author:Trina M. Lee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: vampire, urban fantasy, demon, paranormal romance, paranormal, dark fantasy, angel, werewolf
Publisher: Trina M. Lee

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Twenty minutes later Falon had me bent over a table in a swanky hotel room. He clutched a handful of my hair as he thrust into me from behind. I gripped the table, trying hard to keep my claws back so I wouldn’t have to pay for damages to the damn thing.

My head spun. The room nearly burst at the seams with the power we commanded. The sex-drenched atmosphere was soaked in Falon’s desire. Rife with the product of our passion, I dove in head first, ready and willing to drown in him.

With every stroke of his body inside mine, I felt more alive. Stronger. Drawing on Falon’s anomalous energy meant finding the strength I needed in one source, someone I couldn’t kill. Didn’t have to kill. Such liberation in that. Such remorse as well.

Falon’s free hand traced a slow line down my back before settling on the curve of my ass. I’d allow his preferred position for a few more minutes. I got it; really, I did. I’d rather not look at him either while we screwed.

However, as my strength returned so did my ability to take back a semblance of the control he so enjoyed. I reached back to grasp his hand, the only warning he would get. Instead of waiting for me to battle control from him, Falon spun me around to face him and all but flung me on the table. He stepped between my legs and banged me the way he knew I wanted him to. In our short time together, we’d learned to read one another with little communication necessary.

I slid my arms around his neck and drew him against me. Knowing better than to go for a full bite, I dragged my fangs over the surface of the hollow near his collarbone. The wound shed just a few drops of mind-altering blood before healing. That was all I needed.

Stars exploded behind my eyes. Pure joy lived in Falon’s blood.

His ragged groans filled my ears. Hands on my hips, he drove himself into me until his name became a cry on my lips.

Falon had learned to anticipate my reaction when we finished. Before I could shove him away, he stepped back and flopped down on the bed in immodest satisfaction. The room spun for several seconds before righting itself enough for me to hop off the table and keep my footing. Being power drunk resembled overindulgence in narcotics. It left me high, unsteady, and facing more than a little psychosis.

On shaky legs, I made my way to the closet to fetch a hotel robe, which I promptly wrapped around me. Unlike Falon, I wasn’t quite so content to lounge around naked, as if we shared more than what had just occurred.

“You’re not going to try to kick me out?” Falon asked, a silver brow arched.

I plopped down in a chair and turned to face him. “I’m not done with you yet.”

I was just getting started.

“Then get your ass over here and ditch the robe.

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