by Laura Kaye
Hand in her hair, he pressed against her, laid her back onto the soft skin of the sofa. He settled atop her, his hips cradled between her thighs, his big body embraced by feminine curves. Small hands clutched at his shoulders and neck, made him feel claimed, wanted. Needed. He never knew how fulfilling humanity could be, but human connection offered such sweet satisfaction. Now that he had it, he couldn’t imagine going without.
Small moans and whimpers rose up from Megan’s throat. The sounds ricocheted through Owen’s body, made him hard and impatient where he rocked against her. Her hands locked behind his neck, she held her breath, clenched her eyes shut.
She was still kissing him, but something felt off.
Owen pulled back to find tears streaming from her eyes. His heart dropped into his stomach. “Have I hurt you?”
She slapped a hand over her mouth, shook her head. Watery blue eyes peered up at him. Full of grief.
Mind reeling with concern and confusion, he stroked her cheek. The need to ease her rocked through him. “Please, Megan.”
“Too good to be true. Knew it,” she rushed in a tear-strained voice.
Owen frowned, tried but failed to follow her logic. “I don’t—”
She dropped her hand, wiped at the tears on one side. “If you’re a god, you can’t stay. You’ll have to go. Sometime. And I’ll—”
He shook his head. “I want to stay, Megan.” Perhaps the biggest understatement he’d ever uttered. Not only did he want her, he wanted what a life with her could offer—loving companionship, a satisfying conclusion to the empty endlessness of immortality. Not even the loss of his powers outweighed the myriad benefits of humanity.
She pushed against him, but he held fast. “Please don’t. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I couldn’t—”
He cupped her face, leaned right over her, and forced her eyes to meet his. “You need only choose me, Megan, and I will stay forever.”
She frowned, batted away more tears. “Choose you. How?”
He had the benefit of John’s memories, days of studying her, an eternity of aloneness that she’d cured with her compassion and playfulness and kindness. He loved her already. Though the possibility existed she might never feel that way, Owen took a deep breath and asked for the same in return. “Want me. Need me. Love me. Your love can hold me here, with you. Forever.”
Chapter Thirteen
Megan reached up and stroked the hard line of Owen’s jaw. The desire reshaping his darkly beautiful face stole her breath.
Want him. No problem. How she’d missed the warm weight of a man atop her, and Owen’s body was more perfect and tempting than any she’d ever seen.
Need him. God, she really did. Her body wept for him—and not because of his body alone. She found his kind words and caring nature just as attractive. The way he made her feel—light and buoyant, like she could handle anything—was utterly appealing.
Love him. Her heart stuttered, then pounded against her chest. The room spun around her. Despite their short acquaintance, there was no denying her deep affection for Owen Winters. But love? They’d only just met.
More than that, there had been a time she thought she’d never love again. How could she? John’s death, her guilt, had shattered her ability to trust love. Once, she’d given her whole self over to loving, and the loss of it had shattered her.
But now?
The men in her life wanted her to be happy, wanted her to let go of the pain. Wanted her to embrace life. To live.
John couldn’t. But she could.
Owen’s mouth dropped open when she dragged her exploring fingers across the deep red of his bottom lip. So soft.
For now, she’d start with what she knew. “I do want you, Owen. And I need you.” She swallowed. “So much.”
A deep sound of satisfaction rumbled low in his throat and ricocheted down her body. Those soft lips found hers, already open, waiting for his touch. With his kiss, he possessed her. His scent—winter spice and male—filled her senses. His body covered her. She could live on the cool, sweet taste of his tongue. And, God, his little moans and grunts reverberated right down to the wet heat between her legs.
He trailed open-mouthed kisses over her cheek to her ear, sucked her lobe between his lips and flicked it with his tongue. She gasped as goose bumps erupted everywhere and she offered her neck to his exploration.
“I want you, Megan. Be mine. Gods.”
He licked and sucked down her neck. She shivered and grabbed onto the firmness of his sculpted biceps. He nipped at the tendon where neck met shoulder. A moan exploded from her, loud and wanton, but couldn’t be helped. She threaded her fingers into his silky black hair and held him to her. “Again,” she rasped. He teased her with his teeth, then his tongue and lips. “God, Owen.”
She chuckled even as she whimpered at the spine-tingling nips and bites.
“What’s so funny?” His warm breath caressed her bare skin.
“Sorry, it’s just…” She covered her mouth with her hand, humor-induced tears now gathering at the corners of her eyes.
He pulled her hand away. “Never hide your smile from me.” He pressed kisses to her knuckles, then pinned her wrist beside her shoulder.
She finally reined in her amusement. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I said, ‘God, Owen,’ and then”—the chuckles threatened again—“it hit me that, you know, you really are a god, and all.”
A playful smirk framed Owen’s face. “Are you amused by my godhood?”
She nodded. He thrust his hips into hers, rocking the ridge of his impressive erection against her right where she craved him. Her lips dropped open as she sucked in a breath.
His mismatched eyes blazed. “Still amused?”
She nodded and pressed up against him. Wrapped one leg around his waist and dug her heel into his firm ass.
He grunted and ground down on her, just as she hoped he would. Then his mouth crushed against hers again, their tongue intertwining. He drew away with little kisses on the corner of her lips. “I like you amused. Smiling. Laughing. I want to make you feel that way.”
His words wrapped around her heart, mending, binding. She cupped his cheek in her palm. “Sweet, sweet man.” She took a deep breath and a leap of faith. “Make love to me.”
“Gods, yes.” In a flash, he’d pushed up from the couch, lifted her in his arms, and crossed the room.
Butterflies took flight in her stomach. His humor, his gentle kindness, his raw sexuality, his masculine beauty—he appealed to every part of her mind and body. And, maybe, just maybe, her heart.
He settled her on the edge of the bed so she sat facing his bare, sculpted chest. Her mouth needed a taste. She leaned forward and rained kisses across the warm skin over his sternum, the light covering of chest hair tickling her lips. Grabbing the sides of his waist, she pulled him forward until he stood flush between her thighs. Her tongue curled around his nipple. His grunt and the grip of his big hand in her hair felt like triumph. She sucked the erect nub into her mouth, savored the needy sounds he uttered as she tormented him with her tongue, then her teeth.
Hands tugged at her fleece. She leaned back just long enough to let him remove it and the T-shirt beneath. She shivered, her body no longer familiar with a male’s gaze upon her nakedness. God, all at once she was as nervous as a virgin. Scared to see his reaction, her gaze fell into her lap.
His fingers traced fire down the sky blue strap of her bra, over the curve of lace atop her breast. Her heart took off at a sprint, her mouth fell open to accommodate the rush of breaths. Tipping up her chin, he forced her to meet his gaze. “I have never stood before such beauty.” He caressed her sore cheek with the back of his hand and his eyes flared, that mysterious light flashing behind the blue and brown.
Megan sucked in a breath. His words emboldened her. His m
agic enthralled her. She reached behind her back and unfastened the clasp, then dropped the blue lace to the floor. So much intensity flickered behind his eyes she wondered how she’d ever thought him just a man. He was glorious in his otherworldliness. Powerful. She took his hand and placed it on her right breast.
His other hand joined, cupped her left breast. His mouth dropped open as he massaged her, dragged teasing fingers over and under. Every time he touched her nipples, she felt it low in her stomach. A big hand pressed over her heart, pushing her to lie back on the unmade bed. Then he was on her.
Open-mouthed kisses fell over the curves of her breasts. He licked and sucked at her nipples, sending spikes of pleasure down her spine until she was writhing. Her hands tangled in his hair, holding, tugging. He made the same satisfied sounds as when he’d had the ice cream that first time. No, better—louder, more urgent.
While his mouth worshipped her, his hands found the button of her jeans. Dark eyes flashed up to her, questioning.
She nodded, whispered, “It’s all right.”
With her help, he tugged the denim over her hips and off. He rested his forehead against her belly and groaned, snapped the strap of her panties lightly against her hip. He mumbled against the ticklish skin of her middle.
She squirmed and stroked his hair. “Everything okay?” she whispered.
Without warning, he leaned down and laved his tongue from her panties to her breasts. Then he captured her mouth. The kiss was demanding, possessive. The room spun and she closed her eyes.
He spoke around the edges of their kiss. “Never. Better.”
“Good,” she snuck in when his lips allowed. “Though you…” She smiled as he came at her again and again. “Still have too…” His hands dug into her hair. God, the way he took control of a kiss.
He moved onto her neck, licking, sucking. “What’s that you were saying?”
The smugness in his tone oddly aroused her, especially when it took a moment for the kiss-induced fog in her brain to clear. “Clothes. Too many clothes.”
“Mmm. Couldn’t agree more.” Fingers threaded under her panties at both hips and pulled them off.
Megan gasped, drew her legs up and closed out of surprise. She pointed, pretending outrage. “You! Not me, you!”
His self-satisfied smirk told her he’d known just what she’d meant. “Let me look at you.” Big hands stroked her knees.
She trembled, the result of her racing heart and shallow breaths. The adoration on his face gripped her, made her feel safe. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she relaxed her thighs, let them fall open.
His gaze followed her movements, alighted on her most private place like a physical caress. Her arousal spiked, coating the soft folds of her cleft.
Owen inhaled deeply, licked his lips.
His intense observation set her body on fire, had her wet, needy. After a time, she pouted. “Don’t tease me.”
He met her eyes. “Never,” he said, as he tugged at the string tie of his pants.
Megan sucked in a breath. He was naked underneath. And huge. Her hips bucked at the sight. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. He was long, thick, swollen with need, veined in ways that made her salivate. He gripped himself, stroked once, twice. Her mouth dropped open, fascinated. All at once, she understood why he’d looked at her so long.
§
Owen crawled up onto the bed between her knees. His hands dug under her hips, pushed her diagonally across the mattress until her head landed on a pillow. Then he stretched out between her legs, kissed and licked up her right thigh. Her body became a live wire, squirming, wriggling. Her anticipation was palpable. And he didn’t want to make her wait.
His gaze cut to hers, asking permission that she granted with a nod. When he dragged long, hard licks through her wetness, against the nerves at the top of her sex, she cried out, thrashed, rocked herself into his lips. He gripped her hips, held her in place.
Owen had never felt such power. He’d changed the seasons. Controlled the North Wind. Halted avalanches to save those who lived in mountains’ shadows. None of those compared with being personally responsible for another’s happiness, another’s ecstasy. He’d never had a greater purpose. Never felt as if his existence had more meaning.
And, gods, without question, he’d never felt such pleasure. Everything about being with Megan set him ablaze. She smelled of the heady combination of vanilla and femininity. Under his mouth, her soft skin pulsed with life and vitality. Her hands ignited every nerve in his body.
He craved her. His body ached for her. Between his legs, his hard-on throbbed, his balls hung heavy and tight. He was a taut rope fraying in the middle.
“Angel, let go,” he groaned against her wet, swollen lips, pulling her closer. She quivered and bucked beneath his mouth. He reached up, cupped and kneaded her breasts, sucked her clit in deep and hard.
Her body went rigid within his grasp and the muscles under his mouth quaked. “Owen!” His name ripped from her throat, morphed into a rasping moan. He wanted to roar in victory, but he was too busy devouring every bit of what her body gifted him.
Nails grasped at his shoulders. Her hand cupped under his chin, pulling him away. She gasped and squirmed. “Need you, need you,” she babbled. He crawled up her still-trembling body. She threaded her hands in his hair. “Incredible. Thank you,” she murmured before pulling him down for a deep, exploring kiss.
Gods, the more she tugged at his hair the more he twitched and throbbed between his legs. Her grasp made him feel claimed, her aggressive kiss, with her essence all over him, in him, made him feel accepted. He reveled in every moment.
He lowered himself onto her, groaned deep in his chest as his bareness encountered hers. When his engorged tip brushed against her wet heat, he broke the kiss and gasped.
Instinct guided his body, drew him to her like a magnet. His whole frame shuddered with the need to bury himself in her, join himself to her for all time.
He reached down, grasped his length, his own touch almost painful. Before going further, he gave Megan one last chance to stop. Desire shaped her face, held her lips in an enticing oval. Affection warmed her eyes—he wasn’t willing to call it more until she did so herself. She graced him with a small, soft smile.
It was all the encouragement he needed. He pushed forward, sank into her wet tightness inch by dizzying inch. His eyes closed at the soul-centering rightness of his body in hers. Gods, why did humans not spend every moment pleasing one another this way? When her body had accepted all of him, he paused, savored. He trembled with the effort to hold still.
She radiated beneath him. Cheeks flush, eyes open and inviting, their shared body heat wrapping them in a cocoon. She moaned and gripped his back, pulled him against her tighter. “Oh, move in me.”
He groaned. Moved. Slowly at first. The deep, dragging strokes were pleasure and pain, but totally life giving. She locked her ankles around him, her heels digging into his ass. Driving him on. “Oh, angel, you are perfect.”
She whimpered, rocked her hips, leaned up and kissed him. “You don’t have to be gentle.”
What had he ever done to deserve her, this? His chest filled with emotion until it was hard to breathe. “If I’m not gentle, I’ll never last. You feel too good.” It was true, he already felt on edge, the newness of such physical ecstasy more than he could resist. While he wasn’t a virgin, it had been eons since he’d suffered Chione’s betrayal and last been with a woman. And he’d never been with a human. Never shared a human’s emotional warmth, guileless passion.
She thrust her hips again and pressed her heels, hard. “It’s okay. Faster, Owen. Please.”
His body answered her call. He thrust faster, harder. “Aw, good gods.” The room blurred around him at the decadence of her hot, slick grip on his dick. He curled his arms under hers, gripped her shoulder
s for leverage.
Megan’s breathy moans became his whole world. She threw her head back, rasped, “Yes, yes.”
A tingling pressure formed low in his gut, pooled in his balls. His eyes rolled back in his head. Harder. Faster. Her body milked him, embraced him. She thrust and bucked under him. Fingers dug into his shoulders. The riot of sensation ricocheted down his spine, exploded.
“Fuck!” he roared. “Aw, gods. Aw, Megan.” As he pulsed inside her, his thighs went rigid, his grip on her tightened. He thrust through it, his movements drawing out the ecstasy until he thought he could go mad from too much pleasure. His heart expanded. This feeling of completeness, togetherness—this was love, this was everything.
The sharp bite of her nails in the flesh of his back drew his attention. Under him, she gasped, panting hard. “Don’t stop. Oh, please don’t stop.” She rocked and pressed herself against him.
He nearly growled. Primal satisfaction sent blood to his dick again. “Come on me.” He ground his pelvis into the top of her sex, right where he’d earlier concentrated sucking kisses.
“Owen,” she groaned. “Oh my God.”
“Mmm, that’s me.” Remembering how much she liked it earlier, Owen nipped down her neck to her shoulder, all the while circling his hips against her.
“Yesyesyes,” she ground out, then sucked in a breath. Held it.
Her slick walls tightened around him, dragging a rasped curse from his lips. Then her breath whooshed from her on a high-pitched moan. Her muscles clenched and pulsed. She dug her nails into his back. He relished the biting pain, knew it was the result of her pleasured loss of control. Would endure it for her over and over.