The Darkest Surrender (Lords of the Underworld #8)(73)
Author: Gena Showalter

Though he wanted to tunnel his hands up, higher, thrust his fingers inside her, he merely teased her with the possibility, his tongue never ceasing its assault, and finally, sweetly, she gripped the back of his head and held his mouth firmly against her. She was panting, sheened with perspiration.

“I need…I have to have…” She ground him where she needed him most. “Strider!” she screamed as she came.

One down, four to go.

He stood to shaky legs. Without a word, he spun her, forcing her to face the wall. His c**k rubbed against her ass and he sucked in a ragged breath. His fingers glided around, sliding under her shorts, inside her panties. Contact. Skin to hot, wet female core, and oh, sweet heaven, she felt exquisite.

A groan slipped from her. Her back arched. Her arms lifted and then her nails were scraping through his hair. He rubbed her swollen little clitoris before inserting one finger deep inside her inner sheath, moving it in and out, in and out, inserting a second finger, moving them in and out, in and out, until she once again writhed against him, desperate for release.

“Strider, I need, I need…”

“I know, baby doll.” He gave her a third finger, stretching her. With his free hand, he reached up and cupped one of her br**sts. A perfect handful. Her nipple was beaded, probably aching. He pinched. She gasped. The sound affected him, drove his own need higher. “How am I doing?”

“The best. No one better. Please.”

He couldn’t help himself, had to have concentrated contact. He jerked her hips backward, slamming the crease of her ass against his erection, the perfect cradle, and as she moaned, he slowed the thrust of his fingers. Within seconds, her hips began pumping harder, faster, urging him to keep the rhythm. He didn’t. He slowed a bit more.

Soon she couldn’t quite catch her breath, was panting shallowly, raggedly. Her skin heated another degree, almost burning through his clothes. It hurt, but damn, it hurt so good. Especially when her nails sank deep into his scalp, drawing blood. Then every muscle in her body clamped down, her bones vibrating. Again she screamed his name. This time, a second voice was layered over hers, raspier, almost purring, and he knew her Harpy was right there with her, enjoying.

Two down, three to go.

“Strider, let me…suck on you…you have to be…hurting.”

Damn, but he wanted to take her up on the decadent offer. He bit his tongue until he tasted blood. Yeah, he was hurting, but he’d hurt a hell of a lot more if he failed to do this right. “Not yet.”

“Please…”

Gods, she was going to kill him.

HE WAS GOING TO KILL HER.

Kaia’s legs were trembling, barely able to hold her up. Her blood had reached the point of boiling and she’d long since melted inside. And yet, she couldn’t get enough of Strider. He’d given her an orgasm and she’d immediately craved another. He’d given her another, and still she craved.

If she felt that way, how must he be feeling? On fire? Ready to burst? Damn it, she wanted him to enjoy their time together, not suffer through it.

Dizziness consumed her when he spun her back around. He didn’t give her a chance to speak or recover; he simply meshed their mouths together, his tongue thrusting inside the way she wanted his c**k to do. When he cupped her ass and lifted her, she had to wind her legs around his waist for balance. The moment she did, he pressed, hard, and the long, thick length of his erection hit her dead center.

She moaned. He groaned.

He never stopped feeding her that kiss. It was sweet, it was torture; it was wonderfully debauched and erotic and affected her all the way to her soul, and oh, gods above she was coming, again, before she could work her hand between them and fist his erection.

“You’re beautiful when you climax,” he said fiercely, his voice strained. “Two more times, baby doll, okay?”

He didn’t understand. How could she make him understand? The number of orgasms didn’t matter. Not with him. The fact that Strider was kissing her, Strider was touching her, Strider was pleasing her, was enough. No experience would ever be better than this.

She had to make him understand.

Kaia’s legs were boneless as she forced them to the ground. He pressed her back into the crystal wall—so cold—and cupped her br**sts, squeezing. Lines of tension branched from his mouth. His swollen, still moist mouth.

She wrapped her fingers around his wrists, applying so much pressure he would not be able to move without experiencing a twinge of pain. His gaze shot up, meeting hers. Those navy blues were glazed, hungry.

Now that she had his attention, she flung him to the side and danced in front of him, switching their positions. Her claws ripped at his jeans. The material was damp where she’d rubbed against him.

“What are—” The question ended on a hoarse moan when her fingers whispered along his flesh. His hot, needy flesh. “Kaia, don’t…you can’t—damn it, baby! Do it, please.”

She’d already moved to her knees. Now, she sucked him deep, all the way to the back of her throat. His fingers tangled in her hair. Maybe he’d meant to jerk her away from him, but as she lifted her head, sucking harder, laving her tongue over the thick vein riding the length of him, he merely massaged her scalp, gentle, tender, as if afraid to tug the strands. “Baby…sweetheart…please.” He was pumping his hips in tune with her mouth, in and out, in and out, still trying to be gentle and slow when his body clearly craved hard and fast.

Even though she enjoyed pleasuring him like this as much as he enjoyed being on the receiving end, his earlier doubts played through her mind, taking root inside her. What if the number of orgasms did, in fact, matter to his demon? Strider would be her best, hands down, no question, no matter what, but if the number mattered and she failed to have more than four before he had one, Strider would hurt. If he was hurt, he wouldn’t bed her again.

He’d remember the pain rather than the pleasure.

Oh…damn. Her point would have to be proven later.

She stopped abruptly and he groaned as if agonized. He probably was. Two more, she thought. She had to have two more climaxes before she could give him one. She felt selfish and greedy, but she couldn’t risk this. Along with proving her point, she would make this up to him later. Would give him so many orgasms he wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.

Trembling more intensely, she stood, tugged his hand from her hair and moved it down her shorts, between her legs, where she was hot and drenched. At the moment of contact, a moan parted her lips.