“Did you say before you begin?” Had she just gulped?
“I did.” Roc sank a finger into her wet heat, wrenching a groan from them both as her inner walls squeezed him. His heart tripped as he slipped in to the second knuckle. “So hard on the outside. So soft on the inside.” So slick and inviting.
With his next inward plunge, she rocked with him. Divine. He added a second finger, driving both as deep as he could get them without stealing her virginity. Preparing her?
No, no. He wouldn’t go too far. Nothing mattered more than the blessing and the weapon. But the sight before him...the gripping heat... Glorious. Only want more.
Taliyah’s honed and toned body was angled for his pleasure, her arms stretched and spread above her. White hair lay in tangles on the pillows. She remained partly suspended in the air, with her legs remaining spread as far as they could go. Her breasts bounced every time one of them moved.
Made for me.
Again, he used his thumb to torment her bundle of nerves. She quickly soaked his hand. “Yesss, Taya.” He circled, circled, circled, applying more and more pressure. “You love this.”
A choked sound escaped her. “I do. I do love it,” she admitted. Then she added, “Almost...almost ready to spill my secrets. Promise! Whatever you do, don’t stop this torture.”
Viper. “You love the way my heat overtakes you. How I warm you inside and out.”
“I do, I do, I do,” she repeated. “Mmm. It’s good, Roc. It’s so good.” As he worked his fingers deeper, harder, she cried, “Yes, yes! Don’t you dare stop. You promised.” She planted her heels and lifted her lower body off the pillows, attempting to force him deeper.
She needs more of me. “What would you do to get another finger inside you?” He plunged and circled her clitoris. Plunged. Circled. Stardust glittered, shimmering in the firelight. “Do you need to be filled?”
She gasped. She groaned. “Yes. Filled. Another finger.” She watched him, as if she couldn’t not watch him, her teeth bared. So fierce. So wanton. So perfect. “Give it to me.”
“Will anyone’s fingers do?” The question left him without thought, and he didn’t have to ponder why. He hadn’t forgotten her boasts about Hades. Still, he worked those two fingers in and out. In, out. In...he used them like scissors, reminding her of the prize—more. “Or do you need mine, and only mine?”
“I need nothing!”
Possessive instincts surged, torching layers of his control. “You need me, and I’ll prove it.” Chest rumbling, he fed her a third finger, then pressed the pad of his thumb against her clitoris.
Incoherent words left her as she bowed up and threw back her head, those drenched inner walls clenching as the orgasm ripped through. Her breasts bobbed; those pink-as-coral nipples puckered, begging for his mouth. The onyx piercing looked wicked against her pale skin.
Sweat beaded his brow, and strain caught him in a vise grip. He didn’t touch her as she came down from the high. He stroked himself slowly, waiting. An act that required every ounce of his remaining control.
Finally, she sagged over the mattress and pillows and offered him a wicked smile. “I almost hate to break it to you, baby, but I’m not talking. You’re going to have to try again.”
How many males had she slain with such a smile?
“If you need help keeping up,” she added, “just imagine me clad in more stardust and deeper satisfaction.”
Curse her! Now he could do nothing but imagine. “Go ahead. Keep teasing. See what it gets you.”
“You mean another orgasm? Taste what you’ve done to me, warlord.” A command disguised by a throaty entreaty.
He shouldn’t obey. He should deliver her second climax another way. Following the advice of your prisoner never ended well. But not taste her? Impossible. “Think I’ll work my way down first.”
She trembled as he settled in for another kiss. With his big body resting between her legs, his shaft had a direct line to her sex. The bliss of it. Of her. He rocked his way to heaven, to hell, making her come a second time. But he didn’t stop kissing her, their tongues dueling. He continued to rock, thrusting against her, driving her pleasure ever higher—overseeing his own torment.
“Yes!” she cried. “Work your way down, Roc. Give me more.”
“You’ll hunger for me every time you desire a male.” He would make sure of it. He must. He wouldn’t be the only one to suffer.
A warlord hyperfocused on his goal, he ran her earlobe between his teeth and tongued the tendon running between her neck and shoulder. He laved, kneaded and sucked on her breasts, her nipples and her navel. Anywhere he put his trembling hands, he left a trail of stardust behind. His claim.
Her breaths grew more labored. Her frostberry scent strengthened, fusing with the stardust, becoming their scent.