The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(45)
Author: Gena Showalter

They were a little fuller than a handful, with rosy-tipped ni**les begging to be sampled. He couldn’t hold back a moment longer. Everything inside him cracked, needing contact. Beyond desperate.

He sucked one hard bud into his mouth, surrounding it with hot, wet intensity. Ashlyn moaned. She threw back her head and arched toward him, a plea for more. He let his tongue dabble, flicking back and forth, then sampled the other one, giving it the same treatment.

His blood burned for more, but he set her back on her feet and pushed her toward the sink. Soon. Without a word, he handed her the toothbrush he’d acquired for her earlier and claimed his own. He wanted to be perfect for her.

She appeared dazed, wobbly, as she stared at it in confusion. Slowly her cheeks pinkened in embarrassment. Why? They brushed their teeth and used the mouthwash in silence. Afterward, Ashlyn stood in front of the mirror, gripping the sink as if she didn’t know what to do next and was afraid to ask.

"Off," he said, pinching the top of her panties. "Please."

She appeared nervous as she slid them over her hips and stepped out of them.

Gods. He nearly crumpled to the floor in a blubbering, thankful heap. A small triangle of honey-colored hair, deliciously rounded thighs. Nostrils flaring at the beauty of her, he once again picked her up. This time, however, he placed her inside the tub and pulled the curtain around them. She gasped when the water hit her, and then she groaned in ecstasy as the heat pounded gently at her skin. He wished he had caused that groan.

Soon, he promised himself again. Soon.

He stepped in behind her. She was already soaked, hair plastered to the elegant slope of her back. Her bottom was perfectly curved, full enough to overflow in his hands. He liked that, liked that she wasn’t skin and bones.

"So lovely," he said, but doubt suddenly filled him. Should he turn her around, or hold her like this? Should he lay her down or let her stand? His first shower with a woman, and he wasn’t exactly sure of the best way to go about it.

Mine. Do… everything.

As instinct and thousands of years of fantasies took over, he closed all hint of distance between them and rubbed his erection in the crevice of her ass. She gave a shuddering gasp. He reached around her and grabbed the pine-scented bar of soap he used every morning to wash away the lingering effects of his midnight trials.

She tried to turn around, to face him, but he locked her in place by resting his chin on top of her head. At first she stiffened. Gradually, though, she relaxed against him. He was already on edge and didn’t want to push himself too far. Yet. He barely had a hold on the spirit as it was; it seemed to want to jump out of his body and touch her itself.

"You were made for sex, weren’t you?" he purred into her ear. He laved the delicate shell with his tongue.

"I guess we’ll find out," she replied on a trembling breath.

She’d been made for him, really. More perfect Bait could not have been chosen. If she’d been sent to distract him, she was succeeding. If she’d been sent to learn about him and his friends, well, she’d succeeded in that, too. He’d told her more than he’d ever told another.

If she’d been sent to punish him, well, she’d done that, too. He’d never been more ashamed of himself. He should be anywhere but here right now, should be doing anything else. Instead, he was here. Was going to make love with Ashlyn. And he didn’t care about the consequences.

Arms still banded around her shoulders, he lathered his hands. He set the soap on its perch and began the slow – really slow – process of cleaning her from head to toe. His soapy fingers snaked around her ni**les, along the soft curve of her hips, on the sweet roundness of her belly.

She gave another of those groans, the sound eager and this time just for him. Her head fell onto his shoulder in open invitation, an action that said, Do with me what you will.

"Do you like having someone clean you?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Are you still dirty?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Everywhere," was the raspy answer.

He almost smiled. Almost. His desire was too dark for humor. Except blended with the darkness was wonder and awe.

His touch was rougher than he’d intended as he soaped her arms. She didn’t seem to mind. He could see that she’d  closed her eyes and was nibbling on her bottom lip, breathy little sighs emerging every few seconds.

"Have you ever showered with a man before?" Soap in hand, he dropped to his knees.

She stilled. Whispered, "No."

He was glad. They would discover the pleasures of it together. Even before the demon had become part of him, he had not shown much tenderness to females. He had taken them quickly even then. They had been a pleasant convenience, nothing more. Something he’d wanted but had not needed.

After the curse, affection became more unthinkable. He’d always feared the spirit would show itself if he lingered over a female. Only then had he realized how precious time was, how he should have enjoyed his life when he’d had the chance.

He’d never been more afraid of the spirit than he was right now, but he didn’t let it stop him from lingering this time, from savoring. Enjoying. He was too hard, too rough for most to handle, but he vowed not to be that way with Ashlyn.

I will control myself, whatever it takes. I will control the spirit. He kissed the curve of Ashlyn’s lower back, then licked his way up several of her vertebra.

"Hmm," she gasped. "I – I like that."

He liked it, too.

He liked everything about her.

After soaping her calves and thighs and biting the inside of his cheek to keep from biting her, he washed the suds from his hands. Unable to resist a moment more, he inserted two fingers into the very heat of her.

"Oh. Oh!" She jumped away from his erotic touch, but quickly leaned back against him, spreading her legs wider, silently asking for more.

The lather had been slick, and now, so was she. He stroked her, gently pinched her swollen core. A shiver rocked her. "Like it still?" he asked. Tension beat through him.

Take her. Take her now.

"Love it. I love it," she chanted.

He pumped deep, as deep as he could go. She gasped out his name.

"Tight," he said through clenched teeth. He almost thought he felt… No, surely not. "Hot."

"Good. Feels good."

Any moment now, he would be consumed by flames – flames hotter than the ones he battled in hell. He was shaking, more than before. He was hard, achingly hard. He was poised and ready for attack.

If he reacted this strongly to filling her with his fingers, what would he do when he filled her with his cock?