Demon Can’t Help It (13 page)

S
he closed her eyes as a shiver of pure need vibrated through her limbs at the rough velvety reverberation of his voice. Her nipples tightened, the lace of her bra abrading the swollen points.

He nuzzled her, his cheek against hers, his spicy, earthy scent filling her nose, his lips pressing moist fire along the sensitive column of her neck. With a shuddering breath, her head fell back against his shoulder, offering him better access. He kissed down her neck to her collarbone, while her fingers dug into the counter just beside his.

“What are you doing?” But the question was lost before she could even wonder at the answer. Before she could even care if there was an answer.

The hands beside hers left the counter, moving to hold her waist, sliding around her, until she was enfolded in his strong arms, her body still trapped between the counter and his large body. She gave into his prison, to his delicious torture as he nipped the skin of her neck, of her shoulder.

His hands slid up her from her waist, up over her ribcage, to the swell of her breasts. He skimmed over them, his thumbs, his fingers just grazing her hardened nipples.

She groaned, arching into his touch. He cupped her fully, squeezing, shaping the sensitive flesh in her broad palms.

“I’ve thought about this,” he whispered to her. “Imagined touching you. Everywhere.”

She whimpered, because whether she wanted to admit it or not, she’d imagined it, too. She had.

“Will you let me do that? Touch you, everywhere?”

She turned in his arms, her response to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him.

It was his turn to groan, a low, guttural sound that reverberated deep in his chest, sending a hungry tremble through her body.

He lifted his head, his eyes roaming over her face. “I’m taking your response as a yes.”

She nodded, even as a lucid, practical part of her brain tried to reason with her. But that portion of her brain might as well be trying to reach her by using two cans and some string. Because she could barely hear it. And she didn’t want to hear it. She just wanted to feel.

“I want this,” she whispered.

Maksim smiled, and then she found herself scooped up against his broad chest.

She laughed, surprised by the sudden shift of her world.

“Where is your room?”

She pointed toward the hallway, and he strode in that direction. Once there, he eased her down on her bed, following her down. But he just leaned over her, studying her, his handsome face cast in shadows.

“You’re sure?”

She gazed back up at him, understanding his hesitation. She knew this was a huge change in attitude. But she needed to let go, even if just for this one night. She needed to feel safe, and as unlikely as it seemed, Maksim did make her feel safe.

Maksim could make her forget. She wanted that.

“You don’t want this to be anything more than fun, right?” she asked, reaching up to touch his face, the sharp cut of his jawline, the hint of stubble on his cheeks.

“Just fun,” he agreed.

“No commitments. No strings. No ‘L-word.’”

He regarded her for a moment, and she couldn’t quite read his expression. Then he nodded.

“That’s what I want, too.”

He leaned down and kissed her, the touch gentle and sweet and filled with a tenderness that seemed strangely at odds with the idea of just using each other for physical release.

He pulled back, his body over hers. Her hand knotted in his hair. “You are a mystery to me, Josephine Burke.”

She smiled. “Well that makes us even, Maksim Kostova.”

Maksim didn’t know what to make of Jo’s words. The mortal women he’d been with just didn’t go into a relationship with these kind of arrangements laid out on the table. Even if they did, there was always a tone under their words that said, while they might be agreeing to just sex, they were expecting that to change.

Maksim studied Jo’s eyes. And he didn’t see any longing there, or hope, or determination like she intended to sway his opinion on the subject. He just saw lust. And he knew lust when he saw it. He’d seen it in his own eyes many, many times.

Jo just wanted good sex. Damn.

Damn.

He shook his head, taking in her smoldering, dark eyes. Her pink lips parted, glistening in the dim light.

“What?” she asked, smiling.

“Just thanking my lucky stars.”

Her smiled widened, and he had to taste her.

His mouth caught hers. She opened for him instantly, while her arms circled his neck, pulling him down onto her. Their tongues touched, then darted away, only to return to savor each other’s again.

But apparently now that Jo had made up her mind that sex was what she wanted, she wasn’t satisfied to go slowly. With her mouth still locked with his, she pushed at his shoulders, pressing him back into the mattress.

“Like taking control, huh?” he murmured against her lips.

“Oh yeah. I’m a bit of a control freak.” She nipped his bottom lip, then rose up and straddled him. The weight of her slight body was wonderful on his. Her soft, warm ass nestled over his already granite-hard erection.

“Hmm,” he ran his hands up her legs, now bared by her position and her hiked-up skirt. Her skin was smooth and hot, her thighs firm. He groaned again. He couldn’t wait to feel her riding him.

“I’m a control freak, too,” he told her. “But I think tonight I’m more than willing to relinquish control.”

“Good,” she said, her fingers going to the hem of his shirt. She slipped her hands underneath, shaping her open palms over his stomach and slowly up over his chest.

“Off,” she ordered, and he obeyed, levering himself up enough to tug the shirt over his head. He flung it onto the floor.

Jo made a low sound of appreciation, then leaned forward to press open-mouthed kisses over his chest, her teeth finding his puckered nipples. She nipped in hard.

His body convulsed, his erection pulsing wildly against her.

“Damn, woman,” he growled. His hands tangled in her hair, making a mess of the twisted knot she wore as part of her usual “community center director” look. That wasn’t what she looked like now.

She looked like a wanton nymph draped over him, her hair mussed, her eyes dark. She was so damned sexy. He pulled her down to him, his mouth ravishing hers. His hunger, which he already considered over the top, was quickly spiraling into something huge. Something all-encompassing.

But he knew how to get this feeling under control. He needed to be inside this woman, buried deep.

He rotated his hips, mindlessly seeking where he had to be. The place that would make him feel whole, complete.

Jo kissed him back with the same ferocity he was feeling, her body writhing on his, seeking the same release he did.

He rose up, easily lifting her with him, wanting to pin her under his weight. Wanting to strip her naked and drive himself into her, hard and deep.

But to his surprise, Jo strained against him, not allowing him to change their position. She broke their kiss and placed her hands on his shoulders, using all her strength to press him back to the mattress.

“Uh-uh,” she told him with a slow, wicked smile. Her skin was flushed, her breath coming in soft little puffs. She sat back, wiggling her hips, teasing him.

“I thought you understood that I like control?” she said softly, grinding her hips against him.

He gritted his teeth, imagining that movement without their clothing between them. With his cock inside her.

“Mmm,” he moaned. “I forgot. I’ll lie here like a good boy if we can just lose the clothes.”

Jo arched an eyebrow, skepticism flashing in her dark brown eyes. A smile unfurled on her lips. “Is that so?”

He nodded, for a moment even her expression so arousing, so breathtakingly lovely, he couldn’t answer.

She pretended to consider the idea. The occasional wayward wriggle of her hips was the only sign that she was as turned on as he was.

“Okay.” Her fingers fingered the buttons on her sensible white cotton shirt. She flicked open one, then another, then another, each loose button revealing glimpses of more creamy white skin.

Maksim watched, transfixed as if she were a practiced, very talented, exotic dancer doing a performance solely for him. He swallowed as she slipped the material off her shoulders. She sat astride him, her small, perfect breasts encased in pale peach lace. The shadow of her rosy nipples teased him from behind the delicate fabric.

He cupped the soft swells, his thumbs brushing the hardened tips, circling them.

She gasped as he squeezed small points, her hands coming up to cover his, her head falling back, her long hair falling in unruly waves over her shoulders.

His hands slipped out from under hers, slowly shaping down over her side, feeling each gentle ridge of her ribs, the smooth skin of her stomach, stopping at the waistband of her skirt. His thumb toyed with the edge, slipping just under, then sliding out.

She watched him, her eyes heavy-lidded, but when he reached around the back to unzip the garment, she caught his hand. She shook her head.

“No, no,” she scolded, her voice low, sexy. She shifted, crawling off of him, her movements fluid, sinuous. A deep, desperate noise rumbled in his throat.

She stood, giving him an almost impish smile. “I’ll be right back.” She then reached behind her and undid the skirt. It puddled to the floor.

He was greeted by panties that matched her bra. The scraps of lace emphasizing her long limbs, the pale perfection of her skin, her sleek, subtle curves.

She reached behind her again. She unhooked her bra and slipped it off. Her fingers then hooked the edge of her panties. She shimmied her hips and that bit of lace disappeared, too.

If he thought she’d been stunning in her underwear, he wasn’t prepared for her standing in front of him nude. Her small breasts were pert and firm with raspberry tips. Her mons was plump and shadowed with a tiny triangle of dark curls.

He swallowed, his body aching so intensely for her that he almost cried out. Damn, she was beautiful. He couldn’t recall any woman as beautiful as he found this one.

He sat up, snagging her wrist, tugging her back down onto the bed.

She laughed, the sound making every cell in his body throb, pulse.

“You are very bad at letting me take control,” she said. She touched his face, her palm hot against his cheek. Her fingertips traced his jawline, his cheekbone, his lips.

He nipped her, and she cried out, the sound one of shocked pleasure rather than pain or dismay. He caught the back of her head and pulled her down to him. His mouth tasted her, his teeth teased her soft lips.

She moaned into his mouth, her teeth worrying his bottom lips in return. He nipped her again, and she gasped.

She pulled away from him, and for a second he worried he’d been too rough. Her lips were red and swollen, and alarm dampened his desire a little.

“Jo?” he asked, his voice raspy with warring desire and concern.

She smiled to reassure him, the curve of her lips almost painfully sweet. Then her hand moved to his chest, her small, fiery fingertips gliding down his chest, his stomach. She reached the button of his jeans, pulling at it, and for the first time, he realized her fingers were trembling.

Good, he thought. He hated to think he was the only one overwhelmed with desire. And he was practically insane with need.

She tugged again and the button came loose. A rasp of metal on metal joined their uneven breathing, and he felt cool air on his burning flesh.

Her fingers curled around his waistband, and she worked the denim down his legs. His boxers followed. Then she was still.

He rose up on his elbows to look at her. She stared at him, or rather one part of him.

Then she looked at him, her heavy-lidded expression replaced by astonishment.

“Wow,” was all she said. Then, as if his cock were a lodestone, her attention returned to the rock-hard erection. She blinked, but then her hand come out to touch him.

His hips jerked off the mattress at the light touch. He bit his lip, fighting to stay in control. And let her have the control.

Her slender fingers curled around his girth, testing the weight and the texture of him.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, and Maksim couldn’t recall anyone ever saying anything nicer to him. A compliment for his dick, and he was putty. Damn.

He watched, almost as if her descent were happening in delicious slow motion as her head lowered and her mouth pressed to the sensitive underside. Her small, pink tongue darted out to lick the length of the sensitive ridge. His hips jerked again, a shuddering breath escaping him.

Then her hot, wet mouth was surrounding him. He fell back onto the bed.

Okay, now he was putty.

Jo couldn’t recall ever being this excited, need sizzling through her veins like a wildfire. She took him into her mouth, sliding up and down on him, her tongue swirling. She licked his arousal, the shaft like steel covered in smooth silk.

“Do like that,” she murmured, keeping her lips against him. His erection bobbed along with his head as if they both had to answer. She smiled, still keeping her mouth pressed to him so he could feel the gesture. Like some sort of erotic Braille.

She ran her tongue up the length of him, then took him back inside her mouth. He made a whimpering noise that was so sexy, a noise that revealed his pleasure and his submission, both of which turned her on almost unbearably. Her breasts felt heavy, achy. Moisture, slick and hot, dampened her inner thighs.

Part of her wondered if she should be embarrassed at how aroused she was, but another part was just filled with wonder. She didn’t know she could even feel this way.

And she loved the power she wielded right now. She loved the raggedness of Maksim’s breath. The way his hips lifted to urge himself further into her mouth. The way he hissed when she grazed her teeth, just barely along the vulnerable, tender underside of his very impressive penis. The way his fingers knotted in her hair, tugging, but not hurting her.

“Jo. Damn, woman. I have to be inside you.”