The Immortal (Rise of the Warlords 2)

The frenzy intensified as he bent his head to lave her clit. Lost in the throes, she writhed and moaned, fisting the sheets, begging some more.

Harder than he’d ever been, he straightened. He pressed his erection against her core, rubbing but not entering her. Not yet.

She cried out, bucking against him. “Halo! I’m ready. So ready. Give me what I need. You don’t...you don’t have to worry. I’m not fertile.”

Snarls rose from him. “Are you sure you’re ready for me, Elia?” A command and question rolled into one. He didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice. “Be certain.”

“I’m certain, I’m certain, I’m certain,” she chanted as she thrashed.

Fighting for at least a semblance of control, he fit his shaft right where he’d tongued her. A slight push, and he breached her opening. He let himself go an inch and no farther. Not yet. Instead, he hooked his arms under her knees and lifted her lower body to align it with his.

Sweat trickled from his temples. Beaded his straining muscles.

“Mmm. So hot,” she moaned, rolling her hips and sending him deeper. Her sweet scent took on different notes, thickening the air, fogging his head. A drug. Addicted. Forever. “More.”

He fed her another inch and began to pant. The pleasure...almost overwhelming. But he wouldn’t come before he was fully seated—not until he’d brought her to orgasm. He refused.

“Halo, please.” Plump red lips beseeched him, her voice ragged with pleasure and pain. “Don’t stop. I want it. I want it so much.”

The thought of her inner walls gloving the full length of his shaft...

Roaring, he plunged the rest of the way inside. The pleasure—more than before, scalding every inch of him. Too good. Too much. But stop? Impossible. He plunged in and out, in and out, overcome.

“Halo! Yes!” Her back bowed, a scream barreling from her. She raked her claws over the sheets, shredding the buttery soft material.

Just as he’d imagined, those slick inner walls squeezed him as she came. Hoarse growls spilled from his tongue. How had he ever lived without this?

By some miracle, he rallied the strength to stave off an immediate release. He wasn’t done with her yet. Not even close.

Panting, every drag of air like razors in his nostrils, Halo hammered inside her. Riding her hard, thrusting, pounding, keeping her open and vulnerable to him. Her breasts bounced before his ravenous gaze.

“Look at me,” he commanded. “Want to see your eyes.”

Her lids parted, blazing green irises finding him. There was a clink of mental connection, his chest tightening.

Gasps left her. “I’m still coming. It’s so good. Nothing better.” She burrowed her fingers through her tiny thatch of curls to thrum her clit. Another scream ripped from her. “This! This is better! Halo!”

Not ready to come. Hold out a little longer. Never want this to end. But the sight of her like this, the sound of her—the feel of her. Halo could contain his climax no longer. With a final roar, he jetted lash after lash inside her body.

Ecstasy washed over him. For the first time in his life, he knew no tension.

This changed nothing?

Forever changed. Can’t give this up. Won’t.

As soon as he collapsed atop her, she expertly flipped him to his back. She rose above him and straddled his waist, ensuring he stayed buried within her. Lifting her mass of hair, letting the strands cascade, she began to move on him.

Groaning, hypersensitive, he urged her on, bucking up. He’d gotten a taste of her. Nothing would stop him from gorging. “Ride me, Elia.”

With hooded lids and upthrust breasts, she obeyed. Slowly. Leisurely. She rode him until they both came. But even then, they weren’t done.

He maneuvered her to her hands and knees.

“Don’t stop,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“Never.” He bared his teeth as he slammed into her with all his strength. “We go until you can take no more. Try to keep up, nymph.”

24

“No more,” Ophelia rasped between panting breaths. She sagged against Halo, a boneless, sweaty, exhausted, satisfied mess. Scratches and bite marks marred his torso as if he’d come fresh from a battlefield. “No more.”

“Are you certain?” He fisted a handful of her hair and kissed her brow. “Not one more time? Or perhaps two? Even numbers are better than odd.”

“Quick nap first. Then a hot shower and maybe a seven-course meal. Oh, and I should probably learn to walk again. Then more sex.”

He chuckled, the rusty sound the most beautiful music to Ophelia.

Her heartbeat hit warp speed; any faster, and she might blaze right out of the time loop. Limbs trembled from exertion, certain muscles continuing to spasm. Pleasure saturated every inch of her being. Never had she experienced anything like this. An endless stream of orgasms, one after the other, rolling on and on and on for hours, until she drowned in an ocean of fulfillment she’d never dreamed possible.