The Demonslayer (Seven Sins MC 4)

I could feel the points of the elongated teeth on my neck, the pinch of his taloned fingertips digging into my ass, the rough patches of shield-like plates on his back and arms.

“Have it your way,” he said, digging his nails so hard into my ass that it surprised me enough to have my legs spasm a bit, giving him just enough leeway to pull away, to slip out of me.

But this time, not only did he pull away.

Oh, no.

This bastard turned and started to walk away.

Walk away.

While my body screamed for more of him.

“Get back here,” I grumbled, rushing up behind him, grabbing his wrist, and yanking him to face me again.

“Beg me to,” he challenged, shooting me a cocky, and far too sexy, smirk as he whipped his wrist out of my hold.

“Never.”

“Then finish yourself off,” he suggested.

That, well, that was not an option.

My hand shot out, only to be slapped away by him.

Oh.

So, he wanted to play it that way.

Well, I was always game for a fight.

In my professional life, I never got turned on by a fight.

With Minos, though?

There was just something about him being able to grab me, being able to slam me against the wall, and being able to take it when I struck out, when I grabbed, when I shoved.

I didn’t have to hold back.

I didn’t have to worry about hurting him.

I got to be fully myself with him.

It was freeing.

Even as our feuding bodies slammed through a wall into another part of the building. Even as glass shattered and scattered around beneath our feet, biting into our skin. Even as blood started to trickle and bruises started to form.

It was a violent, bloody dance that shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, that shouldn’t have had the need growing to this intolerable ache between my thighs.

But it did.

My back collided with another wall, the ragged bricks biting into my skin.

Minos’s hand rose, grabbing my face. Not with the gentleness like at the beginning. But hard, fierce, possessive.

His cock pressed against the juncture of my thighs as his head leaned in, as he pressed his face to the side of mine.

“Baby,” he said, voice softer than his body was holding me.

Something about that juxtaposition, well, it made my defenses fall.

My voice when it escaped me almost didn’t sound like me. It was small and soft with just a hint of desperation.

“Please, please, Minos,” I whimpered as my leg lifted to rest around his hip.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured as his cock slid inside me.

Slow.

So damn slow.

Making me almost painfully aware of each inch of him as he claimed me.

“No,” he scolded when my hips wiggled restlessly, trying to get him to move faster as he kept the pace infuriatingly slow. “Slow,” he said, his teeth gently nipping at my lower lip. “Gentle,” he added.

Gentle went against everything in both our natures.

And maybe that was why something within me gave in.

Because a part of me understood how unique a situation was when two brutal, blood-thirsty creatures found a moment of softness together.

Even as the pressure grew in my core, a strange weight and tightness bloomed through my chest—unfamiliar and undeniable. It worked its way up my throat, then my face, making a strange sting start at the backs of my eyes.

I didn’t have a name for what it was, or what it might mean.

All I could do was feel it as the pressure grew, as Minos’s one hand pressed between us to engage my clit. Slow, gentle, yet unrelenting.

Usually he told me to come, said something filthy about milking his come from him.

But he was uncharacteristically quiet as he pushed me to that edge, then gently shoved me over.

The orgasm that crashed through my system had the kind of intensity I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before.

It stole my breath.

It made my entire body tremble.

It made that sting at the back of my eyes become the tears that slid down my cheeks.

Sometime during the orgasm, my arms had gone around him, had clung tightly to him. My face buried in his neck as the sensations moved through me.

He hissed out my name as he found his own release.

And I was acutely aware of his wings as they moved around me.

I’d seen countless wings over the years. In my training, in textbooks, but also in the field, during fights.

I’d never really known what they felt like when you touched them until Minos, though.

They were strangely thin, yet strong, and velvety smooth. More bat-like than anything else.

But the way they slid over my bare skin was nothing like I’d ever felt before.

They always burst out from his back when he came. And they always tried to wrap around me.

It was then that I usually managed to come back to my senses, to push against his chest, to move away from him.