“Really making this hard,” he gritted as a thousand hot shivers raced through him, cranking his need up, pushing him to the edge before he had even gotten her naked.
She smiled saucily, lifted her left foot and ran it down his crotch. “Already seems pretty hard to me.”
Daimon caught her foot to stop her, glanced at it and stilled. When he had removed her boots, her toes had been black, but now they were a delicate pink again. He dropped his head and kissed each toe.
“Didn’t know you had a fetish.” Cass’s sultry voice teased his senses, keeping his need at a boil.
He lowered her foot and finished removing her leathers, and paused as he tossed them over his shoulder, drinking in the sight of her stretched out on his bed wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of black lace shorts.
Daimon reached for them.
Cass planted her feet against his chest. “Ah-ah… I think it’s your turn to lose some clothing.”
He was quick to stand and obey that order, tugged his top off and dropped it by his feet, swiftly following it with his jeans. He kicked them off and stood before her, battling another wave of nerves.
Her eyes drifted over him, her pupils dilating as her gaze traversed his chest and then his stomach, and finally settled on his trunks.
“And the rest.” She waggled her right foot at his underwear, her eyes remaining locked on it.
He swallowed, ran his fingers along the waistband and then shoved them down and stepped out of them.
Cass moaned as he straightened, her teeth teasing her lower lip as she frowned at him. “Exquisite.”
He definitely hadn’t been called that before.
She crooked a finger at him before slipping it between her lips to suck it. He groaned as she popped it free of her lips and trailed it between her breasts, over the flat plane of her stomach to her navel and then lower. She traced the waist of her panties, her eyes dark and beckoning him.
Gods, there was a thousand things he wanted to do with her.
But he knew where he wanted to start.
He caught her ankles and spread her legs, leaned over her and pressed his mouth to her flesh through the lace of her panties. She gasped and bucked up, her hand flying to his head, fingers twining in his hair as her breaths came faster.
Daimon groaned and laved her, tasting her sweetness, aching with need that rode him hard, had him wanting to rush.
He tore another gasp from her as he ripped her flimsy underwear away, as his mouth met bare flesh and he stroked his tongue hard over her pert bead.
“Gods,” she muttered and clutched him, hips rocking in a sensual way.
And he discovered he loved that about her, loved the fact she participated in everything, didn’t just lay there and let him do the work. She rode his tongue, moaning things in Russian that cranked the heat in his veins up another ten degrees.
Daimon stroked his fingers over her soft slick flesh as he suckled her bead, groaned against her as he felt how wet she was, how ready for him. His cock kicked against the blue covers and he lowered his hips and rubbed against them, needing some relief.
Cass cried out when he eased two fingers into her, her heat gripping them tightly as she clenched, ripping another low moan from him. He pumped her as he rubbed his length against the mattress, his breaths coming faster in time with hers.
She suddenly stilled and wriggled, shifting up the bed and pulling away from him.
Had he done something wrong?
He lifted his head to look at her, sure that he had.
She did look angry.
But then her face softened.
“You keep doing that, and I won’t get you inside me and I need you inside me, Daimon.” She jerked her chin towards him and heat scalded his cheeks when he realised she was talking about him rubbing the covers.
“Been a while,” he muttered. “Got a bit carried away.”
She smiled softly. “Been a while for me too.”
But probably nowhere near as long as it had been for him.
She patted the covers beside her.
He crawled up the bed to her but rather than going where she wanted, he prowled towards her instead. Her smile gained a wicked edge again as he forced her backwards, as she hit the bedclothes beneath him and he covered her again.
She skimmed her hand down his arm as he kissed her, savouring the way her tongue tangled with his, how their breath mingled. A groan leaked from him when she took hold of his hand and placed it between her thighs, stroked herself with him before her fingers trailed away.
He kept stroking her, lost in how slick she was.
So lost he didn’t notice her hand moving until it suddenly wrapped around his cock.
He barked out a moan and gritted his teeth, shuddered as bliss rolled through him. Her hand was hot on his flesh, gliding up and down it, sending lightning striking along his nerves with every stroke.
“Gods,” he uttered and pressed his forehead to hers, unable to focus on kissing her as she stroked him, as her fingers closed around his shaft to squeeze it.
He was about to tell her to stop when she flipped him and rose over him, her hands pinning his shoulders to the mattress and her lips descending on his. She moaned in time with him as she brought her hips down, as her slick heat pressed against his hard shaft.
Daimon swallowed hard.
Fought the urge to roll her over and bury himself in her.
Because he had the feeling his little sorceress wanted to be in charge.
And gods, he was fine with that.
She stroked her right hand down his chest. His heart drummed hard against it, and he tensed as she reached his stomach.
“Relax,” she murmured against his lips.
Easy for her to say.
He breathed through the panic, through the spike in arousal, and focused on kissing her. It worked until she gripped his cock.
He reached for it too, needing to rush this part, before he lost his nerve.
He closed his hand around hers and positioned the blunt tip, groaned with her as it brushed through her soft flesh and nudged inside. The moment he began to inch inside her, he released his length and seized her hips, pushed her down onto it. A sweet cry left her lips, the sound drugging, his new addiction.
Together with the way she rotated her hips on him, swirling them in a maddening way.
He tipped his head back into the mattress, clutched her hips and pumped into her, lost in a thousand colliding sensations. She planted her hands to his chest, scalding him with her touch and kissed him again as she began to move on him, bouncing in time with his thrusts. Her breath stuttered against his lips, breasts brushing his chest each time he plunged into her, her soft cries guiding him.
Daimon pressed his heels into the bed and bent his knees, pumping her harder, losing himself as need built inside him, pushing him to the edge. He reached for release with every thrust, each downward plunge Cass made to take him back into her, every gasping moan that she breathed against his lips between kisses.
She murmured things in Russian again.
Demanding things.
Things that had him smiling as he gripped her hips, as he gave her exactly what she wanted, stroking her with the entire length of his cock on each long fast thrust.
She tensed, her moans growing more desperate, and his balls drew up as she gripped him, as she tightened around him and had stars winking across his vision. Good gods.
Cass broke away from his lips, feverishly kissed and nipped at his shoulder, and then pushed back. She threw her head back as she planted her hands against his chest, her black hair spilling like a waterfall down her back as she rode him harder. Her face twisted, bliss painted across it, and he groaned as he watched her.
As he watched his length entering her over and over again.
The dark possessive side of him snarled that she was his now.
He wouldn’t let anyone take her from him.
He grasped her hips and thrust harder into her, pos
sessing her, losing himself to that darker side of his blood. She moaned louder, her face screwing up, lips parting as she tilted her head back.
“Oh gods,” she whispered.
And then screamed.
Her entire body tensed and then pulsed around him, her thighs quivering against his hips as she struggled for breath.
Daimon roared as he followed her, as seed boiled up his shaft and he sank it deep into her, spilling himself so hard his vision tunnelled. He held her on him as his length pulsed and throbbed, clutched her there long after he was done and couldn’t convince himself to release her.
He stared at her, keeping her on him, feeling himself inside her—connected to her.
Mine.
The darker side of his blood snarled that word and he felt it in every inch of him.
She was his.
And he was never letting her go.
Eventually, Cass sagged against his chest, her warm breaths skating across his skin, and he wrapped his arms around her, heart thundering, body tingling as he struggled to come down.
He felt her smile against his chest.
Smiled too when she patted it and whispered.
“Gold medal.”
Chapter 23
Cass lazed at Daimon’s side, sheltered in his arms, her legs tangled with his and her fingers maddening him as they traced circles on his chest, teasing his bare skin with her warmth. A little smile curled her lips as her hand drifted lower, the satisfied edge to her pale blue eyes hitting him hard.
But not as hard as the fact he was holding her like this, sharing a quiet moment that felt intimate.
Life-altering for them both.
He lifted his hand and brushed two fingers through her wavy raven hair, clearing a lock from her face so he could see it better. Gods, she was beautiful. More so now her make-up had been washed away, revealing her natural beauty. Stunning ice-blue eyes that glittered with faint silver stars. Long black lashes framing them. A subtly sloping nose he wanted to drop a kiss on. Full rosy lips that begged him to kiss her there instead.
He had never seen a woman as beautiful, as bewitching as her.
He smiled slightly.
Maybe that was his feelings doing the talking, placing her on that high pedestal for him to worship. He was sure all his brothers would say the same about their women.
She leaned back and he didn’t stop her, not when her fingers kept gliding downwards and arousal tightened his body, had his muscles tensing in a way that was sure to keep her eyes on his body and her mind on another round of lovemaking.
Her tempting lips pursed as her eyes dropped, following her hand. Her fingers encircled his navel. Her gaze flicked up to meet his.
“Is this your favour mark?” She traced one of the wavy beams of ink that arced towards his left hip.
The last time she had asked him that, he hadn’t answered her.
He nodded and glanced down, bit back a groan as he watched her slip her hand lower, to follow the beam that reached down towards his groin.
“Who is it from?” She teased the pointed tip of the beam, far too close to his stirring cock for him to focus on delivering an answer to that question. She seemed to sense it, because she dragged her hand back up and circled his navel, a lazy swirl that kept his blood at a low boil. “Who?”
He swallowed, shunned the hungers that rode him, and looked back into her eyes. “Apollo.”
“Apollo,” she repeated, her voice low and thoughtful. “Odd that a god of the sun would favour a god of something aligned with winter.”
It wasn’t the first time someone had said such a thing to him, and he shut it out, refusing to allow Penelope into this moment. He had loved her, but now that he was looking back, that love had been slow to come, had only manifested after he had discovered she had fallen pregnant.
And gods, that made him feel like a dick.
He had wanted to stand by her, and he would have spent the rest of his life devoted to her and their family if she hadn’t been taken from him, but the love he had felt for her was nothing like the feelings he had for Cass.
Those feelings made him see that what he had thought was love had been something born of obligation and a need to take responsibility rather than born of his heart.
If she hadn’t fallen pregnant, he would have drifted apart from her soon enough, moving on to another woman.
He hated thinking about her in that way, but it was the truth.
He had loved her, but he hadn’t been in love with her.
He stared at Cass, balancing on a precipice that felt dangerous, a fall in all directions.
Before a question could arise from his heart, he focused on what they had been talking about, using it to keep thoughts about his feelings at bay.
“According to my parents, Apollo saw the creativity in me, the ability to love art and music, and to create art too, and that was the reason he chose to give me his favour.” He looked down at his navel, at the sun that was a shade darker than his skin right now, all calm wavy beams. When his mood faltered, it darkened to black and the beams grew pointed and jagged.
“You are good at sculpture.” She pushed herself up on her left elbow and looked towards the door of the bedroom. “I noticed the marble statues in the garden.”
All his work.
“You got me.” He didn’t miss the look that flitted across her face, one that said she did have him, and in more than the way he had meant it.
He also didn’t miss the troubled edge that her eyes gained following it.
She had promised no talking about tomorrow, and he was trying not to think about it. It wasn’t going to happen. Not if he had any say in it. Cass was his and he was going to fight to keep her. He was going to do all in his power to convince her that this was where she wanted to be.
In his arms.
He tightened those arms around her and kissed her, savouring the softness of her lips against his, how she opened for him and teased his tongue with hers as she leaned into his kiss, seeking more.
Daimon groaned as she pressed her body against his, her warmth seeping into him, her softness enticing him. He lowered his hands, one claiming the small of her back as the other cupped her bare backside beneath the covers. He eased her closer, relished her sweet moan as her hips rocked forwards to meet his.
He broke away from her lips and kissed along her jaw, trailed his mouth down her throat and peppered it with kisses as he held her, kept her pinned against him, filled with a need to clutch her tighter and never let her go.
“This is nice,” she whispered and arched her head back, giving him better access to her throat. “I could get used to this… Waking in your arms. Being worshipped by you… Worshipping you.”
He groaned again and nuzzled her neck. “I could get used to this too… and it’s more than nice.”
She sighed and skimmed her hands up his shoulders and neck and claimed his cheeks. She pulled him away from her throat and kissed him again, soft ones that roused feelings in him, sensations of warmth and lightness he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
They were too much.
He pulled back and pressed his forehead to hers, needing a moment to get his unruly emotions back under control, before he did something that made him look like a fool.
Like tearing up.
Cass stroked his cheeks, her eyes fixed on his, the soft look in them saying it was too late and she already knew he was fighting emotions that were too powerful for him to handle.
He stared at her.
This had to last more than today, more than tomorrow. It had to last forever. He didn’t want to give her up, never wanted to be apart from her.
He had to convince her that duty wasn’t everything. Sometimes, it didn’t make you happy. Sometimes, it was a torment, one that it was better to turn your back on. He was testament to that. He had hated every moment he had been in this world, trapped here within his ice, separated from everyone he loved by fear of hurting them.
He st
ared deeper into her eyes, trying to see her true feelings about what her coven wanted her to do, hoping to catch a glimpse of them. She had ignored their summons on repeated occasions if the letter was to be believed. That had to mean she had her reservations about going through with this tradition, fulfilling her duty to the coven.
It had to.
He needed to get her to admit the real reason she had been avoiding returning to the coven.
Something vibrated.
His phone.
He frowned as he drew back from Cass, torn between saying what was on his mind, trying to get that confession from her, and answering it.
It could only be one of his brothers, and the last thing he needed was whoever was on the other end of the line stepping to his house and finding him tangled in the sheets with Cass.
Maybe he could wait for the call to end and then fire off a message to them.
He rolled and leaned over the edge of the bed, fished his jeans from the floor and pulled his phone from the pocket. He grimaced as a glowering picture of Ares filled the screen and he saw the notification at the top telling him he had nine missed calls and a lot of text messages.
Daimon twisted onto his back and sighed as his head hit the pillows.
“Ares,” he said as Cass gave him a curious look.
“Answer it.” She nudged his shoulder and he reached for her, but she evaded him, scooting to the edge of the bed to stand and tease him with her nakedness. “I’ll shower while you speak to him.”
Daimon groaned. “That’s not helping.”
He wanted to be in the shower with her, washing her, worshipping her.
She cast a pointed look at his hips beneath the covers. “It isn’t?”
He ignored the hard-on he was sporting and thoughts of forgetting his brother’s call and showering with Cass instead, and answered his phone.
“What’s up?” He gunned for casual and instantly regretted it when Ares’s voice boomed down the line.
“What’s up? What’s up! I’ll tell you what’s up, little brother,” Ares barked and Daimon flinched. “You go AWOL, Cass goes AWOL too, and then Cal tells me she went off to Antarctica, so I’m guessing she went after you, and then we don’t hear from either of you for hours. Hours.”
Daimon: Guardians of Hades Series Book 6 Page 21