Oh, God, she couldn’t take the yearning.
She couldn’t walk away from this moment, or from how he made her feel.
Nor would she lie to him by pretending she could deny what was happening between them now.
“Yes,” she gasped. Then took a breath and pushed the words out again. “Sorin, yes…I want this. I want you. I need you…inside me.”
Triumph flashed across his face like lightning—quicksilver, white-hot. Jagged and powerful.
Then, on a savage curse, his mouth crushed down on hers.
CHAPTER NINE
He didn’t realize how thorough Ashayla’s conquest of him was until he’d been holding her in shaking arms, demanding her submission. Christ, pleading for it.
When she said the words out loud—that sweet, breathless admission that she wanted him, needed him inside her—Sorin nearly roared his pleasure.
Claiming her mouth with his, he let his passion for her take the reins.
He shifted his weight off her so he could let his hands roam freely over her warm, creamy skin. From her delicate throat to the hard-peaked nipples of her sumptuous breasts. Then down the soft plane of her abdomen to the tantalizing rise of her mound and its trim little nest of gossamer curls.
Sorin groaned as her silky wetness met his questing fingertips. “So ready for me,” he murmured roughly against her mouth. Her juices slicked his fingers as he teased her cleft and clit. Her breath deepened, and the warm peaches-and-cream scent of her arousal filled his head, more potent than any drug. “I have to taste you, Asha.”
He moved down the delectable length of her body, pausing to lavish her breasts with hungry kisses, drawing on her nipple with his tongue and teeth until she was writhing beneath him, her spine arching into him in a demand for more.
Her eager response set his pulse on fire. Need drummed wildly in his veins, Ashayla’s desire calling to the demon in him like no other woman had done before.
On a wordless growl, Sorin tore his mouth away from her breasts to trace a line of kisses down her soft belly, then over each generous flare of her hip bones.
She gasped as he delved lower still, then cried out when he cleaved his tongue into the satiny folds of her sex. “Mmm,” he moaned against her tender flesh. “Peaches and cream…I want to lap up every last drop of you, my sweet Asha.”
His palms on the tender insides of her thighs, he spread her open to him even more, feasting his eyes on her carnal beauty before lowering his head to her again. Hungrily, mercilessly, he licked her, suckled her, drew her deep into his mouth. She quivered and writhed, then bucked and shuddered as he drove her toward climax.
“Sorin,” she moaned, her body tensing under his sensual assault. “Oh, fuck, Sorin…please…I can’t hold on much longer.”
He wasn’t sure he could last long either. The taste of her, the scent of her, the searing, silken feel of her against his mouth as she rode his tongue with erotic abandon…all of it had his heart rate pounding, his cock on fire, ready to explode.
But he wanted her pleasure first, before he buried himself in her and filled her with the full measure of his desire. She sucked in a thready breath as he pushed his tongue inside her tight entrance. Her hands came down on his head, fingers clutching at his hair as she moaned his name and held his mouth to her as the first shock wave of her climax rippled through her and into him.
Sorin drank it down, that pure, potent power of her release.
He was Incubus, and this moment was the thing he lived for. The surge of energy that fed him, sustained him, the way mundane food and drink never fully could.
That it was Ashayla’s orgasm pouring into him now only made their connection all the more intense. It felt sacred to him, more priceless than any treasure he could ever hope to possess.
She was sacred to him. In a way he was scarcely prepared to admit, even to himself.
And that fact shook him to his core.
His hands were reverent on her as he stroked her swollen bud, gentling her back down to Earth. When he could wait no longer, he let go of her hips, then slowly rose onto his knees between her parted thighs.
His cock stood proud, the thick staff blood-engorged, ready to burst. She reached down to stroke him and he closed his eyes, a pleasured hiss leaking out of him. Then Ashayla scrambled up from where she lay, moving toward him, her hands still working him, nearly undoing him.
When she bent over him and took him into her mouth, Sorin’s head fell back on a curse. Maybe it was a prayer. He didn’t know, and didn’t much care. So long as she was fastened to his cock, licking and sucking and driving him mad, he had no control over his words or his thoughts or his body.
Everything belonged to her.
Pleasure knotted at the base of his spine as her mouth covered him, took him in all the way to his root.
Fuck. Her lips were so soft, her tongue so hot and frenzied.
Sensation rocked him, fire licking across all of his nerve endings.
He grabbed a fistful of her long platinum hair, winding it around his hand, a lifeline as her mouth sent him even further adrift with heat and unbearable ecstasy.
She sucked him harder then, deeper, and each time the head of his cock hit the back of her open throat, his climax ratcheted tighter. Christ, he couldn’t take it much longer. He was going to burst.
As much as it killed him to drag her sweet lips from his flesh, Sorin ground out a curse and urged her head up.
“I want to be inside you, Asha,” he uttered, his voice dry gravel in his throat. “Ah, fuck…I need it. I need it now.”
Her answering smile as she reclined back and parted her legs to him was sly, more wicked than he thought a Nephilim’s could be. He’d never seen anything sexier in his life.
He wanted to take a moment to admire the gift she was giving him, but there was no time for indulgence. There was only desire. Only the need for this woman.
My woman, a startling voice demanded in the back of his mind.
Asha was his tonight. And the triumph Sorin felt over that had nothing at all to do with their wager or the treasure room prize at stake.
She was his until morning.
For now, that was enough.
He prowled over her, his cock jutting heavy between his legs, aching for her. He stroked her inner thighs, but that was all the patience he could summon. Her slick juices bathed him as he guided himself to her entrance. She was so tight, so hot and wet.
Sorin uttered her name hoarsely as he began to push inside. Then on a roar that sounded more demon than man, he slowly sheathed himself to the hilt.
~
Ashayla clutched Sorin to her as he drove deep, impaling her with the full length and breadth of his passion. His tempo was savage, unbridled…as powerful as a storm.
And she couldn’t get enough of him.
“I can’t go slowly right now,” he ground out tightly against her mouth as he kissed her. “Not this first time.”
“No,” she agreed, breathless and wanton. “I don’t want slow right now either.”
His big body pinned her to the mattress, tremendous muscles flexing with every movement, every possessive thrust. She ran her fingertips over his broad back and shoulders, down the narrowed width of his torso. As he slammed into her with wild, relentless abandon, she gripped his ass, reveling in the solid strength of him. The sheer, erotic power of the Incubus in her arms.
She’d already come once, but the beginnings of another intense climax rolled up on her fast and hard. “Oh, God,” she whispered breathlessly. “You feel so good inside me. Don’t stop, Sorin…I want this too much…I need all of you now…”
He muttered something dark in a language she didn’t recognize—Romanian or demon, she didn’t know. But the raw, primal sound of it fueled her desire even more. Sorin’s strokes took on a fiercer rhythm, an urgent pounding that pushed her higher and higher, toward the crest of a steep, churning wave.
“Sorin!” she gasped as the first quake shook her. “O
h, my God…oh fuck, yes…”
Her orgasm ripped through her, electrifying her senses, shattering her from the inside. She screamed with the pleasure of it, utterly lost. Gloriously adrift with him still riding her, coaxing her toward the next peak. Completely at his mercy and his command.
She’d never known it could be like this. So pure and open, so beautifully intense. The pleasure was so wrenching, hot tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.
Sorin swept them away on his thumbs, cradling her face as he braced himself above her on his elbows. He made a quiet growling noise as he stared into her bleary gaze, his expression smug with masculine pride.
“You’re mine, Asha. Mine.” He punctuated the command with a deep roll of his hips, one she felt all the way to her womb. All the way to the center of her heart. “Say it.”
“Yes,” she admitted breathlessly. “Yours. Oh God, Sorin…it’s true.”
How she would ever move on to anyone else after being with him, she had no idea. The thought alone repulsed her.
There was only him now.
She was his. Body, heart and soul.
And from the wicked gleam in his hooded gaze, the sexy smirk he gave her now, it was clear that her Incubus Master wasn’t finished with her just yet.
Rising up onto his fists, he began to move with stronger intent again. He crashed into her, battering her with increasingly harder thrusts of his hips. Ashayla loved his unchecked need. She loved how his cock filled her, stretched her tight as her tiny muscles spasmed around him with the aftershocks of her release.
Sorin gathered her to him, his hands spearing under her shoulders as he thrust again and again and again, deeper and harder and more frenzied—until a coarse shout tore from his lips and he withdrew, bathing her belly with the hot jet of his seed.
He heaved above her for a moment, breathing heavily, then he snarled a vivid curse. “It’s not enough yet. Not with you.” He took her in a possessive kiss, fucking her mouth with his tongue the way he’d just ruled her body. When he broke away, he was panting, eyes wild with unbanked desire. “I need to have you again, Asha. Now.”
He flipped her onto her stomach, at the same time lifting her hips until her ass was in the air before him, her thighs spread, sex throbbing yet still hungry for him. When he speared into her slick cleft, her spine bowed in response, a ripple of pleasure-pain coursing through her like liquid fire. So good. The feel of Sorin inside her, so demanding, so raw and consuming.
She craved this wild part of him and reveled in the fact that it was her who drove him to this mad brink of need.
On a harsh moan, Sorin held her backside in a firm grasp and pumped into her with abandon. Ashayla felt branded, claimed, possessed under his sensual barrage. She felt boneless and melting, more alive than she’d ever felt before.
She surrendered to it fully—and to Sorin as well. She couldn’t fight it, even if she tried. Her heart was full to bursting, her body taut and electric, utterly at his mercy.
Her climax broke over her the same time Sorin’s tore through him. He shouted a jagged curse and this time he didn’t withdraw. Maybe he didn’t have time. Maybe he couldn’t find the will to leave her body.
God knew, she wanted him there.
She wanted to keep him there for as long as possible…
Forever, came the reckless whisper from her heart. The thought of Sorin being in her life, part of her future, was something she could hardly imagine. So why did it chase a streak of elation into her veins—a sharp ray of hope—to picture herself with him as something more than just another conquest, a wager he’d won as easily as any other he set out to claim?
He’d given her no promises tonight. Only the one that he’d made good on—her, in his bed, begging for him to make love to her.
And despite the bliss of lying naked in his arms now as he pressed her down beneath him and rolled her into his strong embrace, Ashayla struggled to remind herself that all they had was the rest of this night.
In the morning she would be faced with returning to Chicago as the fool who’d not only failed in her promise to bring the pendant back home for Gran, but who’d also left her heart behind at the House of Ebarron too.
CHAPTER TEN
Sorin let her rest a while in his arms before his appetite overcame him again and he had to make love to Ashayla once more. He took things slowly this time, the edge of his need less sharp, yet just as deep and consuming.
More so, now that he’d had a taste of her.
His sweet, responsive, utterly intoxicating Asha.
The energy he’d drunk from her orgasms was still buzzing inside him, a living thing. Her power would sustain him for days. Yet he thirsted again.
Would always thirst for her, a fact that he could hardly begin to deny.
His blood electrified, infused with the carnal energy she’d given him, Sorin extricated himself from her languid embrace and made it his solemn mission to kiss every curve and swell and hollow of her beautiful body. She arched and flexed like a cat under his roving lips and tongue, sighing in pleasure, murmuring his name as he descended down the smooth length of her abdomen.
Pressing his mouth to her sex, he cleaved the wet seam of her pussy and lapped at the swollen bud nestled in her soft folds. She moved her hips shamelessly against him, and the wanton little moan she let out as she climaxed a moment later was the most erotic sound he’d ever heard.
He entered her more slowly than he thought possible, if only to savor the ripples of her orgasm that undulated around his cock as he seated himself, inch by painstaking inch. They came together a few moments later, their cries of release mingled, gazes locked and intimate, as naked and open to each other as two people could be.
Sorin gathered her close as he rolled his weight off her, content to hold her in silence as she drifted into a soft, spent doze in his arms. She was Heaven to him, or as close as a demon like him could ever hope to come to that lofty place. Yet even without the perfect fit of their bodies, without the perfect harmony of the passion they’d found tonight, Asha made his thoughts of any other woman before her fade to utter insignificance.
Where other females, human and Nephilim both, had served to feed him all his life, it was this woman who stoked all of his hungers now. There simply wouldn’t be another for him, not like this. Not like her.
How the fuck had he let it happen?
How had he let her get past his defenses? It shouldn’t have been her, this Nephilim who’d piqued his curiosity and his ire with her dauntless campaign to reclaim her grandmother’s pendant.
The defiant would-be thief who then infiltrated his domain to take her prize by force or cunning. Or by the vial of Nephilim witchery she’d tucked beneath the mattress, assuming he wouldn’t notice it was there.
He smirked at the thought. She wasn’t the only one with secrets. Sorin reflected on the terms of their deal—one Ashayla had stood no chance of winning, from the moment she’d agreed to stay behind at the roulette table after Korda Marakel was shown the door.
The Master of Ebarron had never been a cheat in anything he’d done in his life. But as he held Asha against him now, after having rocked into her silken heat, reveling at how she had purred with pleasure and sighed his name, he could feel no remorse for what he’d done.
The covert signal he’d given to his croupier at the roulette table.
The one that had ensured he’d have this night with Asha, no matter what.
She thought she was wagering on the pendant, when Sorin would have traded his entire treasury to have her for just one night.
He couldn’t hold her to their deal now. In truth, he hadn’t intended to hold her to it from the moment she confided in him about her life back home in Chicago, when he’d seen the pain her mother’s madness and addiction had caused Asha.
But he couldn’t feel sorry for the time he’d stolen with her tonight either.
Now, the hardest part of their bargain for him would be saying goodbye to her in the morni
ng, when dawn and duty called them back to their separate worlds.
As if to remind him of that eventuality, a quiet knock sounded from the door in the other room of his private chambers. Sorin eased out of bed and stepped into a pair of pants before padding out to consult with his Watchman who waited outside.
Milo’s grave expression brought Sorin immediately to attention. The captain held a secure phone in his hand. “Devlin Gravori is on the private House line for you. He says it’s urgent.”
Alarm spiked in Sorin’s blood. Although Ebarron had long been on friendly terms with Gravori House, if the other Master was calling in the middle of the night—especially when he had a pretty new mate in his bed back on his Mediterranean island citadel—the news could not be good.
Sorin put the phone to his ear. “Dev. Tell me what’s happened.”
The news was bad. About as bad as things could get for the Incubi realm, if the report Devlin Gravori had just received from another Master, Jian from the House of Xanthe, proved to be true.
“I understand,” Sorin said. “Yes. I’ll leave at once.”
~
Ashayla peeled one eye open on a sleepy groan, her face buried in a fluffy down pillow.
All around her was the spicy, erotic scent of sex and Sorin, the memory of their lovemaking clinging to her senses and to the tangled sheets on the bed. She was ready for him all over again, a pleasant, wet heat dulling the ache that still lingered from their vigorous night together.
Sighing with a mix of satisfaction and stirring desire, she reached out for him beside her.
Sorin wasn’t there.
Asha lifted her head, then sat bolt upright.
He was gone.
The bedroom was quiet. Empty.
“Sorin?” She scrambled out of his bed, wrapping the coverlet around her as she padded into the other room. “Sorin, where are—”
“Master Sorin wanted me to convey his apologies, Miss Palatine.” Milo rose from his seat in a chair near the door, politely averting his eyes from her disheveled state.
Masters of Seduction Volume 2: Books 5-8: Paranormal Romance Box Set Page 7