Pan's Salvation (Dueling Devils 5)

“Next…If you’re with me. You’re with me. There will be no one else.”

She sputtered. “I-I would never.”

“I’m just making sure we’re clear. It wasn’t based on any judgment call. You don’t know how things work in my world. You have to trust me. Because your actions reflect on me. I’m the one who has to pay for any mistakes you make. But I think you’re a smart girl. You know as well as I do, you’re safe with me and you’ll need my protection at least for a spell. I don’t trust these bastards. Two women alone, one going through withdrawal are exceptionally vulnerable.”

“You think they’d come back and kill us?”

“I think this deal went way too smoothly and I’m not a man who takes chances when it

comes to safety. That’s the fastest way to end up dead.”

“O-Okay. I trust you. I know you didn’t have to step up for me when you did.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. The minute I saw you burst out of that restroom and take on a whole store full of pissed off gun toting bikers, I knew I had to taste your fire. Even if it would burn me.”

His words were a fresh injection in her veins. Pan was man enough to dominate and go

against what her head said. Her body and her heart wanted it. They sang in his presence.

“I want to feel your heat now, little bird. I’m going to push you to your limits and allow you to see all the greatness I know lies within you. But first thing, if it gets too intense. I want you to say Ice.”

“Ice?” She frowned.

“It’s the opposite of fire.”

He had a clever mind…a major turn on for her.

“You say that word and I’ll stop in my tracks.” He leaned in and nipped her bottom lip.

She moaned helplessly.

“But I don’t think you’ll want me to stop.”

I don’t think I will either.

“Shall we begin?” he asked.

Images of the movie, Reboot of Khan flashed in her mind. Yes, please. She nodded, unable to make her vocal chords work.

“Walk over to the bed and take off your dress.”

lark made the walk to the bed, turned to face him and reached to unzip the top of her dress.

His eyes were dark with lust and hunger. She slid the zipper down and let the silky material slide down her arms. The cloth hit the ground and she stood before him in a pair of black panties and a black bra.

“Beautiful, just like I’d imagined you’d be.” He walked over and studied her as if she were a work of art. He glided the tip off his fingers over her cleavage.

The light teasing touches made her shiver.

“So soft.”

His breath tickled her flesh. He cupped her breasts and she gasped.

“More than enough to fill my hands.” Her nipples turned to stone. “And so responsive.” He pushed them together. She was clay and he, the sculptor. Heavy and throbbing they strained to be free of the silken material. He released them and pinched her turgid peaks, hard. She cried out.

The pinprick of pain turned into a river of lust running heat through her body. “Such a good little bird. I can practically hear your heart beating in your chest.” He pinched them again and again.

Lark cried out. Liquid coated the tops of her thighs.