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He parted the bra’s cups gradually, deliberately, as if he were indeed unwrapping a gift. At the sight of her breasts, he ran his lower lip between his teeth. “More perfect than I remembered.”

Her heartbeat turned frenzied when he hooked his index fingers into her miniscule panties and tugged. Rational thoughts faded when he pocketed the undergarment. His second pair that day.

“A banquet of need,” he praised, peering at her tuft of sable curls as though dazed. “My banquet. Look at how much you desire me.” He reached out and slicked an index finger through her wetness.

Upon first contact, a rapturous lightning strike whipped over Ophelia. Her spine bowed, and she cried out.

A growl rose from her companion. “My sweet little nymph is teaching me what I enjoy. Topping the list is the sound of your pleasure.” He brought that wet index finger to his mouth and sucked, his eyes closing for a moment. When his lids parted, he was staring straight at her. Hunger frothed in the depths of his irises. “There is nothing better than your taste.”

Emotionless? Hardly. This male seethed with desire.

He dipped the finger to her again—inside her. Crying out, arching, she welcomed him. But he didn’t thrust in a second time like she wanted, needed. No, he withdrew and licked himself clean, stealing another sampling.

“I want this every day, and you will give it to me.” Dip. Lick. As if she were a bowl of candy.

She should protest the “every day” thing. And she would. Just as soon as she could think. Which she would do just as soon as he stopped turning her on and on and on and on.

“Halo! Do more.”

Holding her legs open at the knees, he sank to his. His lids dropped to half-mast as he studied her aching core. Finally, when she could stand it no longer, he leaned in...close, but not close enough. His lips hovered over the spot she ached. One flick. Just one. Maybe a few dozen.

Did he fear he’d reached a point of no return with her? That he’d approached his final opportunity to retreat?

More and more desperate, she croaked, “Do it or don’t.” She almost begged him for sex, as feared. But she didn’t. And she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t, she wouldn’t, she wouldn’t. Either he wanted her enough to proceed or he didn’t. “Halo? Which is it?” The waiting was agony.

“Yes, Elia. Yes.” A hoarse sound left him, and he dove down, licking her. His eyes rolled back. “More delicious straight from the source.”

He licked again. And again. He devoured. Ophelia writhed, moaning and groaning. Though his control frayed before her eyes, right along with hers, he was a dedicated student, learning what she liked. What she responded to loudest, he repeated most.

“Can feel you swelling for me.” He did something amazing with his tongue.

Ah! She undulated faster, crying, “More, Astra!”

Halo set in like a madman finally untethered. Ophelia thrashed, getting lost in the throes. Her good sense? Gone. She wanted...she wanted! So, so, so, so badly. Nothing but climaxing mattered.

When he drove his tongue into her core, mimicking the motions of sex, she thought she saw stars. Then he brought his fingers into play, a digit penetrating her slowly.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, Halo.” She rolled her hips, trying to grind on him. Cupping her breasts. Tugging at her nipples. Her pinned wings fluttered, vibrations racing over the ridges of her spine. “More!”

“Greedy harpy. I’ll give you all the more you can handle.” Savage need darkened his expression as he plunged another finger inside her. “When I reciprocate myself, you’re going to watch me.”

What a tantalizing thought. If only she could think past...he...she... Too many years had passed since she’d experienced fingers and stretching and pressure. But never had she experienced sexual banter, challenge and fevered commands at the same time. Never had she been with an ultra-intense warlord who looked like he’d found his new favorite toy.

“You think I’m a decadent treat, Immortal?” she asked between panting breaths.

“Never sampled anything better, nymph,” he growled against her slick flesh.

Nails scraping through his silken hair, hips rising to meet his seeking tongue. “Don’t stop. Need this. Need this so much.”

No, no. She didn’t need anything. She... Can’t think. Was this...was she lust-drunk? Her mind was fogged, every fragmented thought branching into another. More. Don’t stop. Give me. Need. No. Want. Yes, yes, yes!

He sucked on her at the same time he plunged those fingers deep and...bliss! Pressure broke, pleasure flooding her entire body.

“It’s even sweeter now,” he said, growing more frenzied with every swipe. Driving her from satisfied to desperate in a blink.

Not enough. So empty. “Maybe...maybe let’s have sex, after all. Okay? All right?” The words left her, her newfound strength and confidence no match for this deluge of rapture. Won’t beg, won’t beg, won’t beg. “We can play just the tip. What do you think? That’s a good plan, isn’t it? Just the tip? I’ll make you feel so good.”


Tags: Gena Showalter Rise of the Warlords Fantasy