But gods, he smelled good. Mouthwatering.
My spider hummed. My will wavered.
And then I was leaning in toward him against my better judgement.
“Kiss me,” my voice suddenly demanded.
Tomb crashed his lips to mine. His kiss was a delicious blend of cold and hot, melting me into his touch, his lips a perfect contradiction of supple warmth and unyielding marble.
“Take your fucking clothes off, Motley,” he said against my mouth.
I shook my head and closed my eyes, trying to regain my restraint. “I can’t,” I said, even as I continued to nip at his lips. Yet every kiss felt like a death sentence. Every touch reminded me of what I’d become. That every time I fed, my spider took over, and I snuffed out another life.
But I was so hungry, and Tomb smelled more delicious than anything I’d ever encountered. Instead of me luring him, it was like his scent was luring me.
Terrified, I looked up at him with a wobbly lip. “Don’t let me do this,” I pleaded. “She wants you so badly. She’ll fuck you and drain you dry if you don’t help me stop this,” I admitted, hoping my bluntness would help him see reason. “She thinks you belong to her.”
But the gargoyle just smirked. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
Pissed, I shoved at him again, but he still didn’t budge. “Stop it! This is serious, Tomb. She’s strong. Stronger than you. You’re just a fly in her web. You’re nothing to her. Just another weak meal.”
Lightning quick, he reached forward and gripped my ass in his strong hands, tugging me against him. My breath caught in surprise, and I held my breath, trying not to take in any more of his scent. His erection pressed against the juncture of my thighs, and I wanted to part them. It took everything in me to stay still and to keep my hands pressed against the wall.
“You know what I think?” he asked, his tone low and gravelly as he gave my ass another possessive squeeze. “I think my gargoyle likes your spider. And I think your spider has fucked enough weak flies.”
His hand moved up, slipping past my hem so that his bare hand was touching my skin. All I could think of was all the places I wanted his hands to rove.
His face slid closer to mine, and I took in a gasping breath, nearly moaning at the influx of his earthy musk. “And you know what else I think?”
My eyes fluttered closed, and my head turned up, like a flower trying to reach for the sun. “What?” I whispered.
His lips skimmed against my brow. “I think you and your spider need to be reminded that sex isn’t just a meal. And I think you’d like it if someone fucked you for a change, and fucked you hard.”
Holy shit.
My fangs dripped, my back arched, and my body quaked with arousal. Tomb’s hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing just enough to make my pulse race.
“You don’t want to do this,” I said, making one more half-assed attempt to get him to stop. But if I was honest with myself, I didn’t know if I could stop anymore.
“There are worse things than death, Black Widow,” he replied ominously.
My eyes popped open, and I raked over his hard skin, noting every scar, every hard line that defined his time here at Spector.
“You need to feed. Take what I’m offering.”
And then it finally clicked. He wasn’t simply being reckless. He truly did want me to feed from him. “You want to die, don’t you?” I whispered.
The idea that this strong man had been beaten down so hard that he sought the final escape of death...it made me sick.
“I want to get out of Spector.” His unwavering tone held no room for arguing. “And feeding you? It would be the best way to go. So stop thinking. We can both give each other something here. You want to survive; I want a way out,” he murmured before lifting up the hem of my hospital gown.
I didn’t even try to stop him. I was losing my restraint. My spider was taking over, and I was letting her, because it wasn’t just her who craved him—it was me, too.
“What do you want, Motley?” he asked before he pulled the gown up and over my head, letting it fall to the ground. With his eyes locked on mine, he sunk to his knees, and I looked up at the ceiling, squeezing my eyes shut as he exhaled over my sensitive skin. I was slick with desire.
“To get out of here and have my life back.”
But he shook his head in reprobation. “Let me rephrase. I’m not speaking to Motley right now. What do you want, Black Widow?”
“I want to feed, and I want to come, motherfucker,” I growled, my voice dark.
“Good to know,” he smirked. “But not quite the answer I was looking for. Tell me what you really want.”
I shook my head and clamped my mouth shut, stopping her from being able to speak.
Tomb pinched me lightly on the ass. “I want to hear what she wants. I want you to face it. You’ll never survive Spector unless you accept yourself. So say it.”
Shame filled me up. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t admit it aloud.
“Say it, and I’ll reward you,” he promised before using his teeth to drag my cotton panties down my thighs.
My legs trembled, and a sigh shook out from my lips. “I don’t want to be hungry anymore,” I admitted.
He hummed in approval, and then his mouth descended on the point where my thighs met, and I felt a hot, smooth tongue sneak out and tease me. More breath whooshed out of me, and I had to lean against the wall for support.
“And how do you want to satisfy that hunger?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled as his lips started caressing their way up my leg.
I had
