Honesty was a turn-on. Who knew?
Subtly rocking to his pulsing rod, she murmured, “You couldn’t be sexier, Thronos.”
He canted his head, as if he didn’t believe her. But whatever he saw in her eyes convinced him otherwise. Whatever he saw made his shuddering grow worse.
By the time he’d planted the crown inside, he was sweating. His voice broke lower as he said, “You’re so tight around me. Never knew you’d be so hot.” The wonder in his tone made her toes curl.
The sheet rose and fell with her shallow breaths. She arched her back so that her ni**les strained against the material, which seemed to bespell him more than the nymphs had. “Don’t you want to bare my br**sts at least?”
The dilemma was clear on his face. He finally tugged down the sheet just past her br**sts. “Too lovely to cover.”
And she lost a little bit more of her heart to him.
Eyes rapt on the pebbled tips, he licked his sensual lips. He’d expressed a particular pleasure in suckling her. If he did now, this might truly be over before it started. To distract him, she rolled her hips—
Which impaled his shaft even deeper.
She gasped at the sudden fullness; he grunted, “Tight.”
His gradual pace was the only reason she hadn’t cried out. “Slow is good, Thronos.”
With a solemn nod, he fed her sheath more of his throbbing length. Already he waged an obvious battle not to come. His wings were furling and unfurling like a fist opening and closing. Sweat slicked the breathtaking swells of his brawny chest, the rippling muscles of his rock-hard torso.
As he sank ever deeper, a drop of his clean sweat splatted over one of her swollen br**sts, making her shiver—and undermining her own control.
“Sorry,” he bit out.
“For driving me crazy?” She cupped his nape, arching up to graze her br**sts across his chest—sending the sheet to her waist, sending him deeper inside her.
“I feel your ni**les . . . so stiff . . . ah, gods—” His h*ps bucked forward in an uncontrollable rush, till he was seated deep within her, a growl wrenched from his lungs.
Her own lungs were squeezed for breath. His body was inside her, surrounding her, seeming to vibrate from his struggle to regain the control he’d lost.
“Lanthe! I didn’t mean—have I hurt you?”
She wriggled beneath him, adjusting to his length. “Just give me a second.” Deep within her, she could perceive his c**k pulsating to the beat of his heart. His invincible heart. “I’m good, Thronos. All good.”
He clasped her face in his big hands, touching her with reverence. “I just wed you,” he rasped, making her melt.
I’ve waited my entire life to see that look. “Since I’m also engaged in the act”—she shimmied beneath him, eliciting a groan—“I’d say we just wed each other.”
With a pained smile, he grated, “That sounds fairer.”
She couldn’t stop grinning back at him. As if they’d pulled off a stupendous achievement. Which, she supposed, they had.
But their amusement receded when he began to withdraw. The friction of his c**k and that flared crown wrested a plaintive cry from her.
Before he gave his first thrust, he said, “Ready?”
She nodded.
When he tilted his h*ps forward, he threw his head back, the muscles of his neck bulging. “My Lanthe!” Then he faced her once more, to gaze at her—with awe.
He was still swelling inside her, much more than she’d expected. Apparently, he was a show-er and a grower. She did her best to stifle a wince. Brave little soldier, and all that.
Lanthe had always thought the term joined was hyperbole in a sexual sense. Now, so much of his body was within hers, she did feel joined to him. If she could just get herself accustomed . . . “Stir yourself in me.”
“Stir?” He circled his hips, grinding against her sensitive clitoris.
“Oh, yes.” Pleasure seared her with the intensity of flames.
A sharp exhalation escaped him. Puh. His expression was thunderstruck.
In the quiet of the night, his heart pounded like a drum. His wings were stretched wide, the pulselines glowing like shooting stars from the diadem above.
His starry eyes, gazing down at her, outshone them all.
He stirred himself again, stretching her, filling her thoroughly. Bliss suffused her, warmth coursing throughout every inch of her. She felt brimming with him, with emotions.
Replete.
But her emotions confused her. Amid the tenderness she felt for him, she also experienced gratitude, relief—and even joy.
With her hands meeting around his nape, she murmured, “Thronos . . .” I’m yours. You’re mine. You confuse me. This confuses me. She hadn’t even orgasmed, and it was the best sex she’d ever had. Never had sex felt like coming home to someone.
Like she was being showered with fate’s gold coins.
He laid his big palm on the side of her face. “I don’t recognize . . . what your expression’s telling me,” he admitted in a gravelly voice. “But I think I like it.”
“I’m trying to tell you a thousand things at once. I’m telling you I’m ready—to be taken by you.” Not only was she accustomed to him; his c**k now felt so critical that she wondered how she’d survived without it. “I’ll give you anything you need.” Her hands moved to his ass, digging into the flexing muscles. “Do you need to thrust?”
“By all the gods, yes.” He drew his h*ps back, sinking himself more slowly.
Ecstasy surged inside her. Her lids fluttered as she moaned.
Another painstaking thrust. “Is it always like this, Lanthe?”
“Emphatically no.” She couldn’t stop writhing on his hardness, wanting ever more of it. “More, Thronos!”
“The way you move . . . maddening.” He clamped her restless hips, his body driving forward. Then again. Each time he hit the end of her sheath, her clitoris got a shot of delicious stimulation. Her orgasm mounted.
“You’re squeezing me so tight.” His pace quickened. “I can’t hold out!”
“No, don’t come,” she said, feeling her sorcery rising. “I won’t let you.” The air blurred near her lips.
Had she just used her power on him?
He thrust hard, groaning as if in pain. “Lanthe . . .” His skin sheened with sweat, his muscles corded. Just looking at him like this—her steady Vrekener in the throes, a massive warrior about to unleash centuries of need—brought her right to the edge.
She was going to come for this male, and she could almost fear the intensity of the escalating pleasure.
“Need to . . . thrust harder. Can’t go slow.”
“Don’t. Take me as you need to.”
With a groan, he shoved into her body. Again. And again, until he was railing between her legs, to her delight. His hands dipped beneath her, his remaining claws biting into the curves of her ass—a primal sign of possession that sent her spiraling.
So close, so close.
He gave a frustrated yell, confusion flashing in his eyes. “Lanthe, I can’t come.”
Then he seemed to wake up. He rose on his arms above her. “Did I hurt you?”
“Hmm. Your bite might have hurt, but I was too busy coming to feel it.” She nipped at his chest. “You were tender for as long as you could be.”
He relaxed, lowering himself to his elbows. “More evidence that I’m a demon, then? Lanthe, nothing could’ve kept me from marking you as mine.” He brushed her hair from her forehead. “But no other Vrekener males do it.”
“That you know of. My skin will be healed by morning. Who’s to know what we’ve done?”
He still looked uncertain, so she said, “Maybe Pandemonia liberated the demon in you, but I don’t care. Whatever you are—it doesn’t matter to me. What just happened was mind-blowing and shattering and perfect. I wouldn’t change an instant of it.”