The Darkest Destiny (Lords of the Underworld 15.50)

He inhaled a deep breath, as if preparing for what lay ahead. Then… Rather than responding, he reached out with a trembling hand. Gaze transfixed, he stroked between her legs.

“Yes!” She arched into his touch.

“You’re aroused.” His jaw slackened, and he flipped his attention to her face. “For me.”

Shivers of exhilaration coursed through her. “You promised me more, Brochan,” she said, wondering if she sounded drunk to him.

“Is this what you seek, goddess?” He sank a finger deep into her core.

“Yes!” she cried. “That!”

In, out. “Will any lover do?”

Someone certainly loved the sensual power he wielded. Good thing she loved it too. “Only you. You make me feel so good.” She trembled with every inward glide. “Don’t you dare stop.”

“I’d rather die again.” He bared his teeth at her. “Did you think of me while I was gone, goddess?” Thrust in. Out. “Did you dream of me?”

She knew what he wanted to hear…knew he sought a confession…knew she shouldn’t…she…argh! Can’t think. “Yes!”

“I thought of you too, and I’m going to do everything I imagined.” In. Out. “You’re going to scream and beg.”

Beg? Viola? No! Absolutely not. But…maybe? “Tell me what you imagined,” she commanded between rasping breaths. “And I might allow you to do them…”

Would he beg for her?

“Allow me?” He chuckled—and added a second finger. “You are mere minutes away from the satisfaction you seek. You’ll let me do anything I desire.”

He wasn’t wrong. Her head spun. Even as concerns rose, they burned to ash. Pressure mounted, pleasure threatening to sharpen into pain. She thrashed, lost in the throes.

“Say it,” he demanded.

“Yes, yes! Anything.”

“And what if I do stop touching you, hmm?” His white-hot gaze worked in tandem with his fingers. He was a male on the cusp of bliss and agony, totally focused on her. “Will you beg me then?”

“I…I’ll finish myself?” A question when it should have been a statement. Could she finish herself? Her body yearned for his wild need and his reverent caresses.

Another hiss. “Understand me, goddess. You will not take what belongs to me. Not ever again.”

Her climax belonged to him? Why do I love this so much? She arched into his touch, gasping, “How about this? Stop, and I won’t finish you.”

“This isn’t about me,” he growled, his frustration a sudden, frantic pulse against her skin.

Wait. He planned to deny himself? To hide the ferocity of his need for her? Oh, no, no, no.

Though nearly mindless, she linked an arm around his neck, holding his face mere inches from her. With her free hand, she tore at his fly. He went predator-still. Sunlight bathed him, his blue skin glinting. His incredible scent filled her head, her lungs, branding her as surely as his touch.

Their gazes met. She gripped the base of his length.

He sucked in a breath. “What are you doing, Viola?”

“Finishing you. Be a good captor and let me?”

Strain etched every line of his magnificent face, fury and desire warring in his eyes. His inhalations shallowed, but still he shook his head. “Only you.”

He denies me? Eyes narrowing, she clutched the upper part of his wing with her free hand. Her claws curled against the rigid arch, ensuring the captive became the captor. Then…

She stroked him.

Just like that, his resistance frayed. With a snarl, he wrenched down and kissed her. Harder than before. Faster. Victory had never been sweeter. He branded her—owned her. Like a living flame, she burned for him.

Reaching between them, he clasped her wrist. He squeezed until she released her prize, then raised and pinned her arm over her head. Heartbeat. Heartbeat. Appearing strained, he removed his hand from her core.

A protest died on her tongue when he ground against her. Flesh to flesh. Male to female without penetration. She gasped.

And that was only the beginning.

He mimicked the motions of sex, grinding, thrusting, driving her into madness.

The kiss stretched on and on. They devoured each other, exchanging breath and passion. All the while, he caressed her with his free hand, his touch remaining gentle. The juxtaposition only maddened her further, pressure and pleasure coiling together, threatening to shatter.

Broken gasps bled into ragged moans. So good, so good, so good. Want him.

Need him.

Too much? Never had she craved like this, roiling inside. All because of a warrior who desired her but didn’t like her.

Qualms reignited, but she was too far gone to care. “Brochan. I…you…we…”

With ruthless precision, he worked himself against her. As they both shuddered with need, steam curled from their bodies, filling the little space between them until…

The pressure broke.

Viola hurled over the edge with a scream at the same time he threw back his head and roared. They clung to each other, lost…

But finally found?

Chapter Nine

Elation and shame beat through Brochan. He’d made a goddess climax. He’d made Viola climax, the most complicated goddess of all. He’d reveled in her cries of abandon and feared he might never be the same.