King of the Damned (League of Guardians 2)

“I meant what I said, Azaiel.” Her tone had changed, to an almost painful whisper. “I need you naked and inside me.”

If there was a line to cross, Azaiel had left it behind in the dust. His hands dropped to the belt that held his jeans in place and seconds later it was undone and his jeans along with his boots tossed aside.

“Last chance,” he managed to say though he winced as her gaze settled hotly on his straining cock.

She licked her lips and strode toward him, breasts swaying gently, mouth open and inviting. With a flick of her wrist he found himself on his back, and she was there above him, her wet, moist center open to his eyes.

Long, delicate fingers played with her outer lips, and she spread them just enough for him to know how aroused she was. Her clitoris was engorged, her skin slick with moisture. An image of his mouth there, eating, licking, and sucking nearly sent him over the edge, and he tried to move, but her magick held him in place.

She bent forward, placed her hands on his shoulders, and without pause impaled herself upon him, sliding her wetness down his length in a sheath of wet heat. She was so damn tight, and moist and hot. A heavy sigh fell from her lips, and she threw her head back and moaned.

“I knew you’d feel like this, Azaiel.” Immediately, she began to move. “Like you were meant for me.”

“Dammit, Rowan, slow down.” He gritted his teeth and grabbed her hips, holding her in place when she would have ridden hard. He stared up at her and thrust upward, slowly letting her rise and fall with the rhythm he commanded. It took every inch of control he had—to keep things moving at this pace—when all he wanted to do was slam her to the ground and fuck her as hard and fast as she wanted.

But then it would be over, and Azaiel wanted this to last. He needed it to last. He nearly pulled out—let the tip of his cock rub against her clit—and held her there, watched the fire burn in her eyes. When she moaned, a deep throaty protest, he let her rock back onto him and repeated the motion, over and over. And over.

Fuck, but he needed this to last.

Her breasts swayed slowly, like a tantalizing gift, and he grabbed a turgid nipple, suckling it hard, his teeth grazing and rough. She angled her back, just so, and her fingers gripped his shoulders, the nails going deep and cutting skin. He was sure it hurt like hell, but at the moment it only added to his pleasure.

His fingers found her clitoris and toyed with her there as she rose and fell, and every time a groan slipped from her lips, his cock swelled even more. His balls ached, and he wanted to bury himself inside her forever.

She kissed him once more, her hi

ps urging him on, and when he would have slowed her down she bit him. Azaiel tasted blood in his mouth and swore, staring up into eyes that were stormy. Fevered.

“I can’t . . .” A sob escaped. “I want . . .”

He knew then what she wanted. What she needed. To douse the fire. To quiet the hunger. To rush toward the cliff and jump off. He growled like an animal and lifted her off him, turning her in midair and pushing her to the ground on all fours.

He was behind her immediately and sank his cock into her slick, pink flesh as he bent forward, his hand rough in her hair, his words hoarse against her ear. “Is this what you want?” He thrust hard and held himself still inside her though when her muscles clenched around him he nearly lost it.

He pumped once and withdrew before plunging inside her again. And again. And again.

“Yes. Please, Azaiel.”

He increased his rhythm, his flesh slapping against hers, and held her in place with one hand while the other ran down her spine and kneaded the ass that had been teasing him for days. There were no more words—this was no tender joining.

She fit him perfectly, and as his cock rode her, sliding in and out, his fingers continued to caress and explore. He paused near her other opening, breath ragged as he stared down and smiled wickedly, sinking his long forefinger deep within the tight pucker.

“Oh my God, Azaiel,” she croaked, startled for a second, and then she started to mew as he slowly rotated his finger in tandem with his hard, deep, thrusts. He felt himself bunch, his balls tight and full as her juices ran and her muscles tightened around him even more.

“Are you coming for me, Rowan?”

“Oh God, yes,” she whimpered hoarsely, as he thrust harder, and faster, and when she came, he felt her release. Felt her absolute surrender.

Only then did he allow himself to give in to his own needs. As his orgasm crashed through him, one thought rolled around his mind. After living for millennium, Azaiel had finally found that elusive slip of heaven he hadn’t even known he’d been searching for.

He rolled to the side, cushioned her there in his arms, and listened to the silence around him. How long they lay there wasn’t measured in time but by moments. He carefully moved long tendrils of hair from her face, and she moved into the crux of his embrace.

They didn’t speak. What was there to say? Her smell was on him. It was in him, and he knew that if he took a hundred showers, it would never leave. He glanced down at her and felt his heart clutch.

Her eyes were large, open, glittering diamonds. Her mouth, bruised from his kisses, taunted him. Something tightened in his chest, painfully so, and he could do nothing but hold her. How could he give this up?

He was so screwed.

Overhead the first hoot of an owl sounded, and she shivered. This time he knew she was cold.