His mouth was on me, his tongue delving deep. His lips closed over the bundle of nerves. My hips jerked off the tub, but he folded his arm around them, forcing me back.
He…devoured me. Licking. Tasting. Sucking.Feasting. For someone with little to no experience, he sure knew what to do.
Or maybe it was simply that he couldn’t do it wrong.
That I was just that aroused byhimbecause it washismouth on me,histongue inside me.
Either way, he was magnificent. We were. My head fell back as I gave in to him. His finger replaced his tongue, first just one and then another, thrusting deep as he sucked on that throbbing piece of flesh. My head pitched forward, eyes wide and fixed on his bent head, on the strands of hair splayed across my thighs. Tension tightened and curled as I rode his fingers, his mouth—
I cried out as he lifted his head. His glossy lips were parted, his fingers still buried inside me, moving slowly.
“When I was talking about tasting you,” he said, “it wasn’t just your pussy.”
I jerked. “W-what?”
His head snapped down. The graze of his fangs was an icy-hot fire and then he struck, sinking into the skin just above the sensitive joining of nerves. The shock of the bite dragged a scream from me. Pain-tinged waves of pleasure swept over me. My legs stiffened. My hips tried to lift, but he held me there, his fingers plunging in and out of me, his mouth moving over my clit, sucking on the nub of flesh—sucking on the blood running from the punctures above. The sensation…
“It’s too much,” I gasped, my hands slipping on the ledge. I squirmed desperately, pressing my knees into his shoulders, wanting to move away. Needing to be closer. “I—I can’t take it. Please,Ash—”
His growl rumbled through me, in me. He sucked harder, deeper, and the coils spun and spun. A quake hit me. I gripped a fistful of hair. I was coming apart.
Pleasure took me, and I fell into it without hesitation, shamelessly. I broke, shattering into silk-adorned shards of bliss. My entire body shook, the release leaving me limp as my hand slipped from his hair. If it had not been for Nyktos’s hold on me,I surely would’ve fallen.
I moaned as he tugged on my skin one last time—one last pull of my blood as he eased his fingers from me. The warm, wet slide of his tongue along the very center of me and then over his bite was bliss. I shuddered, nearly going limp.
He lifted his head, gently easing my legs into the water. Stunning wisps of essence swirled in his eyes. Neither of us spoke for several moments, and I closed my eyes before I saw any hint of the regret that was sure to form in his features. That might make me a coward, but what I’d just experienced had been wonderful. And at no point during any of that did I think about anything other than how I felt and how I was making Nyktos feel. I had just been myself. Not the Consort. Not an assassin or a weapon. Not a monster.
And I didn’t want anything to ruin that.
Not when his hands were still on me, the feel of his skin a little less cool and welcome against my hips.
“Stay here,” Nyktos said roughly, the water splashing as he rose. “Please.”
I nodded, palms braced against the ledge of the tub. He stepped out of the water. There were sounds of him undressing, of wet, heavy clothing hitting the floor. I still couldn’t believe that he’d climbed into the tub fully dressed. A tired smile tugged at my lips.
“Beautiful,” Nyktos murmured.
“What?” My eyes opened as I lifted my head. He stood by the tub, a towel knotted around his waist.
“You. Your smile,” he said. “You’re beautiful, Sera.”
Cheeks warming, I opened my mouth but couldn’t find words as he turned, reaching for another towel. It was then that I realized I’d called himAsh.
Oh, gods.
He returned to the side of the tub, his lashes lowered, but I could feel his gaze on me—on my face. Was he counting the freckles to see if they’d changed? Then his stare moved to the swells of my breasts, the curve of my hips. “Stand?”
Hoping my legs wouldn’t fail me, I did as he asked, facing the small window across from the tub. From behind, he wrapped me in the fluffy, soft towel, arms and all. Before I could thank him, he lifted me from the tub into his arms and against his chest.
Shock hit me in waves, nearly as powerful as the release had been. The show of strength was quickly lost in the act itself. I was stunned into complete silence as he carried me from the bathing chamber and to his bed. He laid me down in the center, my hair no longer soaked but still thoroughly wet. He shucked off the towel at his waist, and I caught a glimpse of the ink along the inside of his lean hips and his semi-hard arousal before he too climbed into the bed beside me.
I lay there in my towel cocoon, covered from my shoulders to my thighs, utterly confused. It wasn’t nighttime when he kept me within arm’s reach. This was different. Yes, we had enjoyed each other. Sure, frustration and maybe a little anger had spawned it, but there had been no pretense. What we had shared wasn’t a consequence of desire-fueled feeding, but I wasn’t naïve enough to think it meant that the past or the future had suddenly changed. Nyktos wanted me then and now, that much was clear.
But what wasn’t clear wasthis.
Just like it hadn’t been clear when we’d had sex before and he’d wanted me to stay in his bed. Did he think it had to be this way after? Nyktos was a…a quick learner, naturally following what his body liked and paying attention to how I responded to what he did, but he had been a virgin. His experience was limited here. Hell,myexperience was limited to getting off and getting going, but I knew enough to know that when he brought me to his bed at night, it was different thanthis.
“You’re quiet,” Nyktos said. I peeked over at him. He lay on his back, nude as the day he was born, an arm thrust behind his head and the other on his chest as he stared at the ceiling. “You’re never quiet.”