by Larissa Ione
He closed his fingers around her wrist. “I can’t.”
“I know.” She stroked the back of his hand until he loosened his grip. “But what if I kiss my way down? Slowly. Would you let me take you in my mouth?”
He made a strangled noise and stood still—frozen, in fact, as she stripped him of his shirt. But when she kissed his left pec, lightly, gently, his head fell back and his hands grasped her shoulders. He held her as though he’d fall over if he let go. As though he didn’t want to let go.
She kissed her way lower, reveling in the taste of his skin, his masculine flavor, something she’d never truly tasted before. Not like this. She sank to her knees and used her tongue to trace his navel.
“Serena—” He tried to step back, but he was backed against the wall. Beneath the surface of his skin, he quivered.
“Shh.” She gripped his hips with firm but gentle pressure. “Please. Let me do this for you.” She looked up at him, and her heart skipped a beat at the uncertainty in his eyes.
For a long moment, they remained still, until he nodded slowly. He didn’t relax, though, tensed even harder as she unbuttoned his pants. At his sides, his hands clenched into fists, and though he rose full and thick from the opening in his jeans, she somehow felt like this was torture for him rather than pleasure.
How odd that here she was, the virgin, and yet she was having to gentle him, to ease him into this most intimate of encounters.
Her gaze dropped back down to that male part of him, and she couldn’t contain a quick, appreciative noise of admiration. Oh… my. She’d seen and touched guys before, but none had been so beautiful.
Tentatively, she dragged a finger down his shaft, following a pulsing vein that ran the dusky length to where the base flared wide. His entire body jerked, and she heard the click of teeth as he snapped them together. Feeling a little breathless, she closed her fist around him and stroked, her palm moving slowly from tip to base and back.
“I like how you feel,” she whispered, and his moan drifted down to her, a soft sound of approval that flowed over her like syrup. “You’re like satin over marble.”
She added her other hand now, using one to concentrate motion at the tip, and the other to stroke the length of his shaft. He sucked air through his teeth, but as she worked him, he relaxed, began rolling his hips toward her, subtle thrusts into her hands.
A milky bead formed at the tip. Mouth watering, she leaned in, but his body went two-by-four stiff, so she dropped her head to kiss his inner thigh. Slowly, she worked her way up, still stroking, still holding him with the reverence he deserved.
“Serena,” he rasped, his hands closing on her shoulders once more. “This… I don’t know…”
Before he could protest further, she took him into her mouth.
His entire body surged forward. She gripped his hips, holding him steady. He tasted rich and earthy, the dramatic, luxurious notes much like fine Black Sea salt. Cupping his heavy sac, she licked the head of him, flicking her tongue back and forth over the little slit.
“Oh… man,” he breathed, and then he held his breath when she took him so deep he scraped the back of her throat.
His shaft was thick, hot, and it pulsed when she applied simultaneous suction and tongue action. His groans accompanied deep arches of his back as he began to get into it, and she wished she’d done this sooner, could have given him more moments of pleasure to take him away from his tragic future.
But no, she couldn’t think on that. Not now. This was about him, and she wasn’t going to be sad right this second. There was time for that later.
Gently, she squeezed his sac, and he shouted with pleasure. Though she didn’t have experience with this, she knew instinctively to suck, to stroke, to lick… and she learned quickly where he was the most sensitive.
His hands came down to pet her hair, his fingers tender, his touch firm. It struck her then that she’d felt guilty about taking pleasure from him and giving none back… but as she measured his responses, listened, touched, tasted, she realized that giving pleasure was as much a gift as taking.
Chapter 19
Wraith’s heart pounded so hard he was pretty sure it was going to explode. Hell, he was going to explode. He had never allowed a female go down on him. Too intimate, too dangerous, especially when most of your sex partners had teeth like needles.
But what Serena was doing was… extraordinary.
The warm, wet depths of her mouth took all of him, and though he knew she was unskilled, he couldn’t imagine anything better than this. He could feel the care in her touch, could see it in the way she watched him for every reaction.
The sight of her pink tongue slipping out to swirl around the head of his cock had him clenching his hands into fists.
Serena did something amazing with her teeth, and he hissed with pleasure. His cock pulsed, dangerously close to release. His vision grew sharp and his fangs began to descend, and he knew his eyes had gone gold. Closing them, he kicked his head back against the wall and concentrated on the slow sweeps of her tongue back and forth on the sensitive ridge of his glans and on the twisting action she’d added to each stroke of her fist from his balls to where her mouth capped the head.
Oh, yeah, he was close….
She moaned, a low purr that vibrated her lips and made him cry out. He pulled in a ragged breath and palmed the wall behind him, partly to keep himself upright and partly to keep from grabbing her head and thrusting as the last of his control slipped away.
“Serena,” he gasped. “Gods, that feels good… oh, yeah… just like that.” He panted, hips jerking so hard he couldn’t control it anymore. “I’m going to come… fuck.”
His orgasm blasted through him, more powerful than any he’d ever experienced. It shot up his spine and blasted fireworks in his brain. Serena kept licking and sucking and dragging her thumb along the seam between his balls, adding layers to his climax and keeping it going in sharp, pulsing bursts.
Gradually he came back down to earth, his muscles twitching as they unlocked. He willed his fangs to retreat back into his gums, and as his vision and hearing came back online, he heard what sounded like panting.
Oh, shit.
“Don’t swallow,” he barked, but it was too late. Serena was still on her knees, her fingers digging into his thighs, her eyes glazed over and her face flushed. The scent of lust billowed up like a cloud from her, slamming into him and revving his libido all over again.
“Josh,” she whispered, throwing her head back in ecstasy as she ran her hands up and down his legs. “What… what’s happening?”
Shit, shit, shit. Seminus demon ejaculate was a powerful aphrodisiac. His brothers had talked endlessly about the effects, but he hadn’t paid much attention.
Now he wished he had.
Serena dragged her hand down her chest, hissing a little when her thumb brushed one breast. “This is good… so good…”
“Ah… someone must have slipped something in your drink at dinner. Just relax.” Relax. Great freaking idea, given how she was peeling out of her clothes and touching herself.
In less time than it took to leap through a Harrowgate, she was naked and rubbing against Wraith like a Trillah demon in heat, practically purring, and all the while nipping at the skin of his shoulders and neck. He’d never let any female bite him. Ever.
But when she took his flesh between her teeth, pain popped along his nerve endings, along with a rush of pleasure so intense he wished she’d bite harder. Draw blood. Take nourishment from him so she could thrive.
Except she wasn’t a vampire, and if she were, he sure as hell wouldn’t be here with her.
“Touch me, Josh,” she said against his throat. She laid her hand over his and pushed it between their bodies, between her legs. “There… yes, oh, yes.”
Man, he felt like a virgin himself, all nervous and freaked out, and he had no idea why.
“Jesus, you’re wet,” he rasped. His fingers delved into her cream, and that
was all it took. She cried out, her body undulating wildly as she crested.
“M-more,” she whispered, even before she’d come down, and he dragged his fingers up through her slit, barely skimming her swollen knot of nerves. Again she cried out, bucking and riding his hand, over and over until he lost count of her orgasms.
And then she was climbing him, so fast he barely had time to grab her butt to support her as she locked her legs around his waist.
“Make love to me.” She pinched his earlobe between her teeth and rocked her sex against his. “I want to feel you inside me.”
The slide of his shaft through her slick slit made him groan. Seminus demons could, technically, only release inside a female, but he could dip just the head of his penis inside her, being careful not to break her hymen, and then he could pull out and—
What the fuck? The point of all of this was to break her damned hymen and take the fucking charm.
Serena writhed against him, growling and nipping, irritated at not getting what her body wanted. The friction brought her off again, though, which eased her lust temporarily. Like, for a couple of seconds. But it was long enough for him to get her on her back on the bed.
She wrapped her legs around him and arched her spine, tilting her hips so he damned near slipped inside her.
“Hold on, baby. Just hold on.” Somehow he managed to shed his jeans, even with her clawing at him. When he mounted her once more, settling between her legs, she sighed and pulled him down on top of her.
“You feel so good.” She brushed her lips across his. “So right.”
He moved against her, loving how they fit together. “What about the consequences?” He couldn’t believe he was asking that when he should just dive inside, but for some reason, he wanted to know where her head was, that she was going to be at least a little okay with this later.
As she lay dying.
Pain stabbed him like a stake through the heart. And it had nothing to do with the poison.
“Don’t care.” Her moan rattled through him as she wrapped her hand around his cock and guided him to her entrance. “All that matters… is you. Being with you.” She kissed him, hard and deep.
When she let him go, they were both panting and the tip of his shaft was rubbing in her honey. One punch of his hips and he’d be home.
“I think… I think I love you.”
Wraith groaned. “It’s the aphrodisiac talking, Serena.”
“Shh.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “Just make love to me. Do you want that?”
“Gods, yes,” he murmured, because at this moment, he’d never wanted anything more, charm or no. “This might hurt a little.”
“It’s okay. I trust you.”
He slipped his hand beneath her to tilt her hips. Instinct guided her, had her clamping her thighs around his hips even tighter. The head of him started to ease inside…
I think I love you.
Her words clanged around in his skull so hard it hurt. Sweat popped out on his brow.
I trust you.
Emotion clogged his throat and cut off his breath. Only Shade had ever really trusted him and even then, the trust had limits.
“Please, Josh.”
I trust you.
Serena was flame against him, her body scorching him on the outside, her trust and love warming him on the inside, a place that had been a dark, cold cavern for as long as he could remember. She was beautiful inside and out, and she didn’t deserve what he was about to do to her. Not without a guarantee that she would survive afterward.
His brothers would never forgive him, but he couldn’t take her life.
“I can’t,” he panted, rearing back. “No.”
“But—”
“I can’t give you what you want, Serena. I’ll never be able to. Not like that.” Gods, he was a fool, a fool who had just signed three death warrants. “I’ll make you feel good, though. I promise you that.”
He kissed his way down her body and dove between her legs, used his mouth to punish her for making him burn like this. His punishment made her come over and over, until she couldn’t move, lay limp on the bed.
Shaking with a combination of extreme arousal, exhaustion, and not a little fear, he crawled up beside her and pulled her into his arms until her breathing eased into sleep. He thanked his lucky stars he’d shot up with the anti-libido drug before dinner, because although he was experiencing some serious blue balls despite the earlier release, he wasn’t in crippling pain. This would ease off eventually. He winced as he adjusted himself. Hopefully, it would ease off soon.
He didn’t know how long they lay like that, her sleeping peacefully and him feeling the chill of death take hold, but when she began to stir, the sky outside the window had lightened. A muffled beeping came from his pants on the floor. He stifled a groan and dug his phone out of the pocket.
No cure.
The text on the screen from the demoness sat like a hot coal in his gut. There truly was no hope now. He lifted his other wrist, which felt way too heavy, checked his watch.
And knew what he had to do.
Carefully, he eased out of the tangle of their naked bodies and dressed. Every joint, every muscle screamed in agony, and he had a feeling that, this time, no amount of medication was going to help.
“Hey,” she mumbled. “What are you doing?”
He jammed his foot into a boot, and when he didn’t answer, because he didn’t know what to say, she sat up and brought her hand down on his shoulder. He jerked away.
“The train will be pulling into Cairo in half an hour. I’m getting off. Going home.”
She blinked, her groggy gaze unfocused. “I don’t understand. Why?”
“We almost had sex.”
“No, we didn’t.”
She didn’t remember. He wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or not.
“Yeah, we did.”
She rubbed her eyes. “Even if we almost did… we didn’t. So… why are you leaving?”
A shudder wracked his body as he exhaled. He bent to pick up the wooden top that had fallen to the floor. “I’m leaving because I’m afraid that eventually, we will, and I can’t be responsible for killing you.”
“What?” She came to her feet, tugged the bed sheet to her chest, as if that would hide anything. Her body, her curves, every freaking detail was imprinted on his brain. “You think I’m not strong enough to resist you? You think you have to play martyr and keep yourself away from me so I won’t weaken in your presence and force you to have sex with me or something?”
“Ah… no. I’m not exactly the martyr type—”
“So you just don’t want to have sex with me?”
He opened his mouth, but before he could deny that particular question, she slammed her palm into his chest. Hard.
“Answer me!” she shouted. She was coming down from the effects of the aphrodisiac. He recognized the signs of a drug crash, had lived them himself.
“I can’t risk your life, Serena. I won’t. And I’m not strong enough to promise that I can be near you and not want you.”
“Get out!” She was coming down hard, practically spitting fire and completely irrational. She pointed at the door. “Get out and… and go to hell!”
“That,” he croaked, “is only a matter of time.” He opened the door and paused at the threshold. “I’ll make sure someone will get on in Cairo to take you the rest of the way home.”
He fled, steeling himself against her voice, calling out his name. He tore through so many cars he lost count, elbowing people aside, until he reached the cargo car.
Weak from the poison, shaken by what had just happened, and battling the intense desire to return to Serena, he collapsed onto a crate. An ache in his chest tugged at him, and he knew that if he gave into it, it would take him straight back to Serena.
Maybe he didn’t have to leave. Maybe he could stay with her until the last possible minute, spend his final days—hours, probably—with someone who gave him a r
eason to live.
Right, because she’d no doubt love to care for him as he lay dying.
He wanted to stay with her, but for the first time in his life, he was going to do the right thing, not the selfish thing. He wouldn’t make her watch him die. He’d go home, and she’d remember him as he was, not as some frail, failing shell.
He glanced at his watch again. Half an hour. He’d call Tayla, have her meet the train in Cairo and take care of Serena. Then he’d find a Harrowgate and be back at the hospital before things got really bad.
His brothers would take care of him like they always had, if they forgave him for signing their death warrants, that is.
Chapter 20
Serena sat in her compartment, wondering what had just happened. Josh had left her because she might have sex with him? Why would he think that?
Last night she’d wanted to pleasure him as he’d done to her, and then… then… what? She blinked against the flood of fuzzy memories.
Make love to me.
Oh, God. She’d said that. She’d really said that. She’d been all over him, begging him for sex. Humiliation made her skin crawl and her face burn. What had he said, that someone must have slipped a Mickey into her drink at dinner?
Her clothes from last night lay scattered all over the tiny room, evidence of her lapse of control. Stomach turning over, she got dressed, cursed the wrinkles in her olive skirt and cream blouse. She looked like she’d been pulled out of a suitcase.
I want to feel you inside me.
Mortified, she groaned and sank down on the bed again. Everything came back to her, clear as crystal. She remembered how Josh had taken care of her but hadn’t taken advantage of her hyper-horny state. He could have, but he didn’t.
He’d wanted to save her life.
And how had she thanked him? By going into a rage, yelling at a dying man when he said he was leaving.
Leaving. Fear flickered in her chest. He’d said he was dying, but she wouldn’t lose a single minute with him. And maybe… maybe The Aegis could help. Maybe Val knew of some curative magic or artifacts.