The Darkest Whisper (Lords of the Underworld #4)(40)
Author: Gena Showalter

“Oh, no you don’t. Stay with me.”

“No, I—”

“Will only feel. No thinking. That’s for later.” Slowly he backed her into the tiled wall, and the coldness made her gasp. He swallowed the sound, his mouth already on her again, taking everything she had to give and demanding more. Behind them, the shower continued to rain, battering against the porcelain.

With one hand he corralled both her wrists and pinned them above her head. With the other he cupped her breast, rolling the nipple between his knuckles. Her stomach quivered, her knees weakened. She would have fallen, but he jammed his thigh between her legs, holding her up. Except, the core of her rubbed against the rough skin of his knee and that weakened her further.

“You like?”

“Yes.” No reason to lie now. She couldn’t hide her body’s reaction.

Down, down his fingers traced, swirling around her navel. Back and forth she rocked against his leg, little breathless moans escaping her lips. More. More. More! The Harpy’s cries blended with her own, until they were a single voice inside her head.

“I’m going to bite you now.”

He didn’t give her time to accept or deny, sinking his teeth into the tender cord at the base of her neck. At the same time, he removed his thigh from between her legs and replaced it with his hand. Two fingers plunged inside her, deep, so wonderfully deep.

“Sabin!”

“Gods, darling. You’re hot. Tight.”

“I’m going to…I can’t…I shouldn’t…” So close already. From just two fingers, pumping and grinding inside her.

“Let yourself go. I won’t let anything bad happen. Swear.”

What if she—what if the Harpy—damn it! Her thoughts were fragmenting, her mind focusing only on the pleasure of having those thick fingers working her.

“Come for me.” His thumb brushed her clitoris, and there was no more fighting it. She climaxed, screaming, pumping against him, then biting him back until she tasted blood.

As she spasmed, he released her hands and grabbed onto her hips, forcing them forward, ramming her into his erection. No penetration, just friction, but damn, it was good. She sank her nails into his back, digging deep, cutting.

He hissed through his teeth, repeated the action of jamming her against him, and hissed again. She loved the sound. Needed to hear it again. And again. Soon she was moving on her own, meeting him halfway, pounding against him with all of her strength, sharp teeth back in his flesh, beads of blood coating her tongue.

“That’s the way,” he praised. “Just like that. You feel so good, so damned good.” He was babbling. To remind her of where she was, who she was with? “I wasn’t going to let things go this far. Not for me. But I’m going to explode. I know it. Shouldn’t be this good. Shouldn’t—”

Then he was kissing her again, his tongue plunging, hot seed spurting onto her stomach, his body quaking and hers erupting again just from the thought of his pleasure. They clung to each other, panting, moaning.

Finally she collapsed against him, amazed that she’d lost control. Amazed that they hadn’t had sex, yet this little shower had been world-shaking. Amazed that the Harpy hadn’t turned vicious. Amazed that the Harpy only wanted more. Most of all, she was amazed that, even though she’d just experienced two intense orgasms, she, too, still wanted more.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SABIN CARRIED GWEN to the large bed in his room and snuggled her against him. Neither of them said a word as they watched the night sky give way to dawn through the room’s only window. They lay there, naked, intertwined, each stiff and strained and lost in their own thoughts.

“What happened to sleeping on the floor?” Gwen finally asked him, breaking the silence.“I never actually fell asleep. Technically I didn’t break my word.”

“True.”

After that, silence enveloped them again. But again, neither slumbered.

He’d expected her to drift easily; there were bruises under her eyes, more prominent than ever, and he’d seen her yawn earlier. But once again, she surprised him. She pretended to sink into oblivion once or twice, but she never actually fell.

He knew why he couldn’t relax: his demon was crazed inside his mind, more desperate than ever to reach her, to hurt her. To make her question everything that had happened between them. Just as it had done to all the others before her. Women who had either left him or killed themselves.

I should leave before something like that happens. The moment he thought it, denial roared through him, sharp and cutting, as if it had teeth, and all the reasons he should stay popped into his head. One, Paris could come looking for him and stumble upon her, then seduce her. Promiscuity just couldn’t help himself. Two, a Hunter could escape from the dungeon, grab her and bolt. Three, she could begin to regret what they’d done in the shower and bolt on her own.

All excellent reasons. But they weren’t the reason he ended up settling more deeply into the feathered mattress. Gwen felt too soft and warm against him, smelled too delicious, like lemons, his favorite, and kept uttering wanton little sighs he yearned to swallow.

Already he wanted her again. Wanted all of her this time. Wanted to sink in and out of her, pounding softly, then hard and harsh, a never-ending rhythm that would bind them together. No woman had ever aroused him so thoroughly, tasted so sublime, fit his body so perfectly. And none had ever clutched him with such abandon, bit him, drawn blood and had him panting for more.

Even though he hadn’t sealed the deal, they’d both found release. He’d suspected once would never be enough, and he’d been right.

Hearing her cries in his ears had been sweeter than pumping inside another woman. And that skin…it was like a drug for the eyes. One glance, and you had to have another, and another. Looking away was painful, the desire to look again a constant urge.

She probably hates you now, probably wants nothing to do with you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she thought about her human boyfriend while you kissed her and that’s why she was so passionate. Didn’t she tell you he was in her thoughts? Clearly the human is everything she wants for her life. You are not.

Sabin’s arm tightened around Gwen, squeezing, and she expelled a pained puff of air. Instantly he forced his grip to loosen, and placed a block on his mind to silence his demon. There’d been no thoughts of the ex-boyfriend, emphasis on ex; he was sure of it, and neither Doubt nor Gwen’s own earlier words would convince him otherwise. It had been Sabin’s name Gwen had called. Doubt was surly, that was all, and lashing out at him, desperate for a target. At least, like him, Gwen could distinguish the demon from her own insecurities.