She released him as if burned. “Sorry.”
Sorry? The idea of her handling him was unbearably erotic. “Take hold of me again!”
Once she tentatively did, he quaked from her grip, assailed by the same currents that sparked whenever their skin touched. Voice low, he commanded her, “Stroke them while I feast.”
In a wondering tone, she breathed, “Who—are—you?” But she dutifully rubbed her fists, slaying him with pleasure.
Stroking him thus made her even wetter! He growled and lapped. “You like that too.” It wasn’t a question.
His light licks grew fiercer. As her little bud swelled for him, he groaned with amazement. Maybe I should . . .
He suckled her clitoris between his lips—
“Oh, my gods!” she screamed, tearing an answering yell from his lungs.
When she bucked for more, he almost came. He started sucking on her bud like a luscious candy, his groans vibrating it.
She went crazy, her head thrashing, her breasts quivering. She made a string of insensible sounds, then managed: “Don’t stop that, Thronos. So close! Oh. OHH!”
She ground against his mouth, moaning, “You’re about to make me come . . . so hard . . . for you.”
Her movements—her words—made his shaft jerk, threatening release. He’d just felt her sheath tighten around his finger when she keened with ecstasy; sorcery shot from her eyes and hands, enough to light a night sky.
As soon as he tasted her orgasm . . . thought left his brain.
Lanthe gasped on a final, bone-melting spasm. She’d never loosed sorcery like that!
Probably because she’d never had such a cataclysmic orgasm.
He’d suckled her so divinely, penetrating her so deeply . . . but it was more.
Yet he kept licking her too-sensitive flesh, continuing to finger her. When she tugged on his horns to pry him away, he shook his head, so she pulled harder. He nipped her thigh in warning!
Heaving breaths through his slickened lips, he grated, “Not done with you, woman.” Then he set back in.
“I can’t! Not so . . . soon . . .” She trailed off—because his strong tongue was licking her into submission. His mouth was conquering.
Soon she’d reach a point where he could do anything to her.
And Lanthe thought he knew it.
She rose on her elbows again, watching in bewilderment as his eyes turned to full black. Maybe she oughtn’t to have wished for a demon lover? “Thronos?” She swallowed with trepidation and desire. Was Feveris bringing out their most primal selves?
When his remaining claws seized her ass, lifting her to his mouth, her head fell back into the flowers. With a savage growl, he buried his face between her thighs, tonguing her furiously.
“Oh! Ohhh!” Her control gone, she arched her back like a total wanton. “Yes, Thronos!” With each of his ruthless licks, sorcery filled her again. Swirls of it tickled her skin and caressed her face. She tightened her grip on his horns, about to come for this male. Again.
Shameless, she snatched down on his horns as she bucked upward.
It was as if she’d lashed him with a whip.
She could barely hang on as his head moved, thrashing back and forth as he licked, a wild demon maddened with lust.
Lanthe wanted to savor his abandon, to remember this forever, but she couldn’t fight her mounting orgasm.
“Don’t stop, need to come . . .”
He growled between her legs, “Yes, yes, give me more of it.” Then he set back in—
Rapture crashed into her. The force of it wrenched the air from her lungs. She caught her breath just to lose it again on a desperate scream. “Thronos!” Her body writhed, her vision blurring. With each spasm, her sheath squeezed his thrusting finger.
Consciousness dimmed, her thoughts blanking until her heart finally slowed its frantic beat.
With soothing kisses along her thighs, he released her at last. She thought she heard him rasping against her skin, “Never go back.”
Still catching her breath, she rose to her knees before him. He sat back on his heels, his thick cock jutting upright, rigid as granite, the head bulging. He inhaled deeply, as if to regain control of himself. In one instant, he looked like a demon about to die from need. In the next, he appeared proud, thrumming with masculine satisfaction.
He should be proud. He’d just wrung from her two mind-shattering orgasms.
But Feveris’s spell was potent. She wasn’t sated. As she gazed at his engorged shaft, desire bloomed once more. Another breeze blew; could he feel the cooling air on that tight, aching part of him?
He shuddered, answering her question. A translucent bead rose from the slit. He looked shocked to feel moisture there.
“It’s pre-cum,” she murmured. “Is this the closest you’ve ever been to ejaculating?”
Because he was with his mate. Only for her would he release his seed, only inside of her. But it seemed a drop had escaped. Her tongue twirled in her mouth for it. She couldn’t tell which part of her was hungrier for his shaft: her sex or her mouth.
“Melanthe, I need to claim you,” he bit out.
She’d wondered if they could simply burn off steam, averting intercourse. How ridiculous that seemed now. He was going to be inside her today. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t first kiss him in a like fashion.
She wanted to give him that pleasure because he’d just delivered her to unknown heights—but also because she was experiencing feelings for him.
She needed to lavish kisses on the scars he hated. To thank his invincible heart for never succumbing. “Can we do that in a bit, Thronos? I thought I could taste you now.”
He wordlessly nodded, eyes widening a touch when he fully comprehended what she was offering. The proud look he’d sported had turned to one of disbelief.
Once he reclined with his wings spread out over the field, she settled between his legs. “Are you ready?”
In answer, he impatiently bucked his hips, his muscled torso flexing, his mouthwatering cock bobbing—the most erotic sight she’d ever witnessed.
Thronos wanted to take his mate, but after what he’d just experienced . . . he’d never last.
He was rattled by how much he’d needed to pleasure her like that. What male wouldn’t be uneasy when he’d just discovered something he was certain he’d die without?
She started kissing down his chest, holding his gaze with her shimmery eyes. She pressed her lips to the scar over his heart, remaining there for long moments. As she nuzzled her smooth cheek against his marked flesh, he thought he heard her breathe, “Invincible.”
Did she mean . . . his heart?
He’d been confused before. Now? He didn’t know how he should react, what he should say.
She continued lower, sending his mind into turmoil. Her hair had begun to dry in silken curls around her face and shoulders. When the winds made locks dance over his skin, he could perceive each tendril.
He felt like he was watching some kind of mystery being played out, something he’d known occurred—without any idea of the inner workings.
Hands shaking, he grasped her head, barely checking the urge to guide her down to his aching member.
Yet then she descended to . . . his thigh? He jerked in surprise when she pressed more loving kisses along the length of that scar.
As in the dream she’d described, he wanted more. He’d never thought she could convey affection with this act.
She kissed his damaged ankle and calf, sources of grueling pain for him. In the beginning, he’d wanted her to suffer guilt, to regret.
There were a thousand things he wanted to tell her. “Melanthe . . .” But he fell silent when she moved to his erection, taking hold of him.
His shaft pulsated in her soft grip. Moisture glistened across the crown. Would she mind that? When she was about to kiss him there? To his way of thinking, it seemed almost impolite to her. He was shocked at how little dominion he had over his body. He was literally in her hands—
She daubed the hot bead with her tongue.
A dumbfounded breath escaped him. With a shudder, he gave her another drop.
Her lips curled, as if he’d pleased her. Not impolite? Erotic. She liked it. She used that bead to thumb the head in mind-numbing circles. “Does this make you feel good?”
“Lanthe, you know it does.” She was teasing him? Now?
He stared down at the seductive curve of her red lips. He wished he could read her mind.
Because he feared he was about to lose his.
She rubbed him until his head swam, lust firing inside him. His claws dug deep into his palms when visions arose . . .
Of thrusting into her mouth. Of lifting her by her hips and planting her on his throbbing shaft.
Of tossing her to the ground so he could cover her, shoving deep within her tight, wet sheath.
Not visions. Impulses. Gods help them if he lost control.
Suddenly he felt her tongue—against his sensitive sac. “Unh!” His knees fell wide, allowing her free rein to do as she would.
She gave a light suck to one of his testicles, then the other, nearly ending everything! He didn’t breathe as she rose up over his shaft.
With her hand wrapped around the base, she guided the head toward her mouth to run the tip across her red lips. Then came her moist little tongue to circle the flared head. He couldn’t stop an astonished grunt.
Yet then he frowned to feel pain sear over his arm, as if the skin was burning. When he glanced at it, there was nothing, soon forgotten.
She tongued the crown, darting flicks to the underside, making him growl her name. He’d barely recovered from that new delight when she closed her lips over him—with sublime suction.
“Gods almighty.” His hips shot up. Her mouth slid even farther down. . . .
The only thing that could make this better would be if she was straddling his own tongue at the same time.
When she glanced up then, she caught him licking his lips for more of her taste. Her brows drew together. Moaning around him, she took his length even more aggressively. Deeper.
As his restraint deteriorated, he cupped her face to give shallow thrusts between her lips. He lifted one wing, using a flare to cup her ass. When he rubbed those supple curves, she shivered.
His heavy testicles tightened as his body prepared to release. No way he could hold back. “Don’t stop, Melanthe! I need more of this.” More of her shimmering eyes, her teasing lips. “Close, sweet. So close.” His head tipped back, eyes sliding shut.
Wait. She’d stopped? He faced her again.
She’d taken away that hot wet suction! “Melanthe?!”
She leaned forward to kiss his navel, leaving him racked with need and confusion. Yet then he felt her plump breasts pillowing each side of his erection. Desperate for the contact he’d lost, he rolled his hips. His shaft glided along her cleavage. “Good gods.”
Another rock of his hips, and he grew nigh once more. “I’ll release like this . . . between your perfect breasts . . .”
She tilted her head, gauging his expression. Then, with a sensual grin, she dragged her chest down his body to return to her kiss, adding the stimulation of her hand.
With her fist pumping the base of his dampened shaft, she sucked him with greedy, spine-tingling pulls.
“Ahhh!” Nothing could feel this good. Nothing, nothing . . . “I’m about to come!”
As she sucked and pumped, she cupped his testicles with her free hand, giving them an electrifying squeeze that brought him right over the edge.
Pleasure erupted. He threw back his head and roared—a sound that could never be contained.
Against her clever tongue, his length pulsed again and again, his back bowing in time.
She wrung every last shudder from him, forcing him to ride that pleasure . . . over and over. . . . A culmination so heart-stopping, it was almost fearsome.
He gave her only a drop or two of seed, but she hungrily drew on him for more. As if she’d been waiting forever to take him into her.
When she’d rendered his body boneless and his mind boggled, she gave him a last sweet kiss, then curled up against his side. As they both caught their breath, she laid her hand upon his chest, drawing her thigh up over his.
Time passed. Disbelief and satisfaction waged war in his hazy thoughts.
Melanthe began lazily dragging the backs of her nails up and down his chest. Breezes drifted over them as he floated without pain, discovering what bliss was. I’m to experience this with her for the rest of my eternal life?
And he hadn’t even claimed her.
He was eager to, but resting with his mate like this was an ecstasy all its own. He wondered how long it took for a female’s desire to stir anew. He wondered how many times a day she would let him attend to her. After he claimed her, once he’d found that home, how could he ever force himself to leave it?
Were these now to be his concerns? At the thought, he grinned up to the sky. He drew her closer, pressing his smiling lips against her forehead.
When they’d been young, they’d fallen into a ready camaraderie. Being with her had proved effortless—their interplay filled with rapport and affinity, with ease.
Now, after sharing pleasure with her, he believed they could become that close again, that they could rekindle the connection they’d shared.