Dark Skye (34 page)

And then he was naked. Mist from the waterfall dotted his tanned skin, drops clinging to his lean muscles. Just beneath the surface, Lanthe could see his shaft pulsing.

She probed his thoughts, finding his blocks wide open. He craved to feel her sex, to taste it.

To claim it.

His gaze met hers.
And he wants me to know these things.

Maybe they could just release some steam without consummating anything?

She stiffened when she felt pain on her forearm, like a fresh burn. She broke away to search for a mark, finding none.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.” Probably residual hell-plane stress. “Absolutely nothing.”

He looked to say more, so she reached for his cock, curving her fingers around it, which apparently robbed him of thought. His lips parted, and he couldn’t keep from bucking to her grip.

When she traced her thumb across the taut head, his shaft jerked in her palm, continuing to grow.

“You’re really big,” she said as she fondled him from base to tip.

He had to clear his throat to manage: “Females like big.”

“Only if they’re prepared for it, and it’s deployed properly.”

Worry creased his brow. “How should I prepare you?”

“I’ll make sure you get me ready.” Because sex was inevitable? It was beginning to feel that way.

She continued to stroke him as he rocked to her fist, but when she cupped his testicles, he went stock-still.
“Melanthe,”
he grated, grasping her wrist to stay her hand. “I’ve many things I’m dying to do to you. I want to last.”

“Hmm. What things?” By the way he was staring at her eyes, she knew they must be glittering.

In an anguished tone, he said, “Readying you?”

“Bite off your foreclaw.”

Without a word, he did.

She took his hand in both of hers. When she guided his forefinger into her core, his lids went heavy. Eyes on his, she gave a soft moan.

“My gods,” he choked out, his horns straightening fully. She caught his thought:
How will I ever fit inside her?

Fit? No, they didn’t have to have sex! She told herself this, even as she was motioning for him to move his finger. Once he began to thrust with it, they both shuddered.

Her clitoris swelled for attention, her lips plumping around his finger. Soon she was panting, kissing and licking the warm skin of his chest.

Yet then he drew his hand away. Lifting it to his mouth, he sucked his forefinger down to the second knuckle, his eyes hooded.

“Oh!” Her breath hitched. Who was this sexy male? “Ohhh.”

When he’d taken all of her taste, he released his finger. “I want more of that, Melanthe.”

Should she broach oral sex with him? He might want more, but it was an offendment. Feveris’s spell made her feel reckless:
Bring it up. He’ll totally love it!
“Speaking of readying me? I think oral sex would help—”

In the space of a heartbeat, he’d seized her in his arms. Striding through the water as if something chased them, he carried her to the bank of the pool. Scrambling out, he strode toward the sea, setting her down on a mat of flowers beneath swaying palms.

His gaze seemed to follow the drops sluicing down her body as he joined her. Soft rays of sunlight filtered through the palm fronds, glinting off her necklace.

With a questioning glance, he reached for it. Though she was loath to remove it, even for a minute, she didn’t want anything to distract her from this male. She nodded, and he set it close by.

“I truly was going to give this to you, as a courtship gift.”

“You risked your life for a gift?”

He grinned. “When it’s the one your mate’s set her heart on . . .” Then he moved between her legs, clasping her behind her knees, lifting until she brought her feet up.

She rose up on her elbows, needing to see his every reaction. Judging by the intent look on his face, nothing could stop him from this.

He laid his roughened palms on her inner thighs, spreading them till her knees opened wider. A breeze blew sultry air against her slickened sex.

Even if she hadn’t known it was his first time in this position, the way he stared in fascination would give him away. His smoldering eyes were rapt, his expression saying,
Mercy.

His thoughts drifted into her mind: —
Her exquisite flesh . . . so delicate. Want to set upon her . . . —
When he licked his lips in anticipation, the sight of that pointed tongue made her tremble.

In a barely recognizable voice, he said, “I had my turn in the glade. You’ll have yours now.” His gaze bored into hers. “See that it happens.”

It? Her orgasm? He was telling her in his own way to guide him—because he’d never done this before.

When she gave an unsteady nod, he eased in to press his mouth to one of her thighs. With a tender lick, he told her, “Hold back nothing, Melanthe. . . .”

When he’d sampled her taste on his finger, Thronos had known what forbidden thing he would do. And then for her to suggest it? That she wanted his kiss aroused him like nothing he’d ever imagined.

He could scarcely think past the ache in his shaft. His horns had straightened and were aching along with it.

He knew only two things for certain:

His mate was incomparable, her glistening sex a thing of beauty.

And he was the luckiest male alive.

Yet then he frowned when he felt a stabbing pain low on his torso. He glanced down, spied no matching injury, just old scars.

His pain was forgotten when she rolled her hips, as if to attract his mouth. He gently eased her pink folds apart with his thumbs, riveted by the shadowy dip he uncovered. Her entrance. While he wondered again how he’d ever fit that tiny opening, his shaft jerked, straining for it.

Brows drawn with absorption, he rubbed the dip with his finger, breaching her slick core. Her cream was more slippery than water, and sweet.

The intoxicating taste of his mate.

As his head descended, his sensual female was panting in anticipation, her blue eyes shimmering like metal.

She cried out when he delved his tongue right at her opening. Now that he’d taken her taste into him, he didn’t understand how he’d lived his entire life without it. He licked his lips, shuddered, then set back in with a ravening hunger.

“Oh, ohh!” As she undulated, he followed her sex, piercing that slight dip with the tip of his tongue.

He gazed up to gauge her reaction. Her hands had found her lush breasts and started to squeeze. Her expression was lost. When the breeze blew, she arched her back, her nipples stiffening even more.

He rubbed his palms up her thighs, pressing her legs even wider. As he gave her seeking licks, she thumbed those stiff nipples, the peaks he would soon suckle at his leisure.

His hips had begun rocking, his erection hanging down like a steel rod. The pressure within it surged. Even still, his lips curled against her. Because Melanthe seemed to be going out of her head with pleasure.

He was as well. How could he not when her flaring folds grew ever wetter against his tongue?

Between kisses, he murmured, “Lanthe, I can’t ever go back.”

To life without her. Without sharing this.

She curled one arm under her head like a pillow. Her free hand descended down her flat belly, her palm curving over her mons. Brows drawn, he pulled back, his breaths ragged against her rosy flesh.

She caught his eyes, then grazed the pad of her forefinger over the little bud at the apex of her sex. “If you lick my clitoris like this . . .” She slowly masturbated it, rubbing back and forth as her tongue moistened her lips.

Telling him how she wished to be kissed.

Then her hand wandered back to her chest, to nipples so hard they looked like they throbbed.

He eagerly leaned in, tonguing her clitoris as she’d instructed.

“Yes, Thronos! Just like that,” she cried out, earning herself another slick lash. “Now your finger. Put it back inside me while you kiss.”

He penetrated the gripping heat of her channel, thrusting his finger in and out as he licked.

“Ah! It’s so good!” She reached forward to grasp his horns.

At the contact, he yelled out against her.

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.

“More,” she panted, rubbing him faster.

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!”

Pride.
It’s happening.

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.

L
anthe 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.

It’s Thronos. It’s all him.

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.

For Thronos Talos.

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.