Archangel of Mercy (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-eight

S
HE
didn’t answer right away. He wrapped his hand around his engorged cock, a brutal grip, but it did nothing to ease the need thundering in his veins. She watched him, mesmerized, as if she had never witnessed such a thing before, and air hissed between his teeth.

He reached out with his free hand but before he could wind his fingers in her hair and drag her toward him, she gripped his wrist.

“Stop that.” Her gaze was still transfixed between his thighs, and he squeezed his sensitive glans, enjoying not only the physical sensation but Aurora’s reaction.

“Why? You got a better offer for me?”

She slid her fingers from his wrist to his elbow. Rivers of fire ignited beneath his skin, burning through his blood, and a fractured thought occurred to him.
Since when had his forearm been such an uninhibited erogenous zone?

“If you don’t stop”—she finally looked up at him, her eyes dark with passion, her cheeks flushed with arousal and never had he seen such a bewitching sight—“you’ll never know.”

His grip tightened around his shaft and shallow breaths seared his lungs. He was torn between the need to pull her into his arms and thrust his cock deep inside and the rapidly diminishing
want
to know what she had in mind for him.

“Tell me.”

One hand gripped his biceps and her other flattened against his chest. He collapsed back onto the chair, his gaze never leaving hers.

“I thought I’d start off here.” She feathered a kiss across his lips, her breath warm and enticing. Without conscious thought he wound his arm around her, trailed his fingers across the smooth skin of her back, the curve of her waist, and cradled her delectable ass. Her eyes widened but she didn’t protest.

Instead her hands curled over his shoulders to brace her weight. She nibbled kisses along his jaw, the tip of her tongue flicking his flesh between every teasing kiss. He molded the rounded curve of her ass and she answered his unspoken demand by sinking against him as her mouth fastened on his throat.

Her teeth claimed his flesh and erotic darts of pleasure thundered through his blood. Even through her bra—
why the hell was she still wearing her bra
—her erect nipples grazed his chest. He pumped his cock, pressing her closer, wanting to feel her skin against his.

“No.” Her jagged whisper inflamed him further. So did the touch of her hand as she slid between their bodies and covered his. “I want to make you come, Gabe. By myself.”

He nearly came right then. It took monumental effort to loosen his grip and let her thread her fingers through his and drag his hand to her waist. How easy it would be to push her to her knees. But it wouldn’t be the same as her doing it in her own sweet time.

If that was even what she had in mind.

Her fingernails scraped over his chest, raked across his nipples, scored threads of fire over his abdomen. Finally she sank onto her knees between his thighs. His heart thudded in erratic arousal against his ribs, as if this was the first time a woman had ever been on her knees before him instead of times without number.

But it was the first time with Aurora.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes, an intoxicating combination of innocence and wanton seductress. Her rich chestnut hair tumbled around her shoulders, and he fought the desperate urge to plunge his fingers through those silken curls, to hold her close, to force her to his will.

He gripped the chair arms once again. An unlikely implement of torture.

“Where did I hurt you?” Her breathless words fanned his erection as she took him in her hand as if afraid he might break. He gritted his teeth against the order burning his tongue for her to
grip
. If she wanted to touch him as if he was made of spun glass, then he would suffer it. “Was it here?” The fingers of her free hand dusted his length and an agonized growl rumbled through his chest.

“Yes.” Not that he could recall now. His entire body throbbed with ecstatic anticipation, which was a sensation he’d not experienced in . . . eternity.

He watched, mesmerized, as she bent over him, her hair caressing the insides of his thighs. Her wet mouth brushed against his rigid length, her lips fastening, her tongue teasing. She sucked and kissed and licked and his hands were in her hair, cradling her head.
Wanting more.

She pulled back, panting, and despite his inclinations he relaxed his hard grip on her. She looked up at him, her head resting on his thigh, her lips parted in blatant invitation, his cock in her hand. And he damn near forgot how to breathe.

“I thought”—each word was an erratic gasp—“I might use my mouth on you. Do you like oral sex, Gabe?”

Was she serious? And did she seriously expect him to
answer
her?

He managed a primitive grunt. His cock jerked within her light grasp.

“Except,” she added, and he glared at her, unable to believe she was still talking at a moment like this. “I’m not sure my mouth is
big
enough.”

“Your mouth is plenty big enough.”

“A girl could take that the wrong way.” Then she slowly, deliberately, licked the tip of her tongue across his gleaming slit.

“Aurora.” It was a warning. But it was also an entreaty. He, who never asked for anything much less begged. “For gods’ sakes, let me in.”

Her hand tightened around him, exquisite agony, and her other hand cradled his aching balls. She shuffled unsteadily between his thighs as if she was in discomfort, and he faintly recalled she was kneeling on hard, unforgiving stone. And then he forgot about everything as her mouth enslaved him.

Silken heat enveloped the head of his cock and he reared upward, instinctively, the need to penetrate pounding through his senses. She sucked hard, her teeth grazing his flesh, and he plunged both hands through her hair, twisting her curls around his fingers, forcing her along his rigid length.

Gods, it was exquisite. Her head nestled between his thighs, her hot breath erratic against his shaft. The erotic feel of her mouth surrounding him, her tongue cushioning him, her teeth claiming him.
Her nails digging into the hard muscles of his thigh
.

A strangled groan scraped his throat and he eased his grip on her head. Instantly she slid up a couple of inches, the friction a new kind of sensual torture. And then she gripped him, her fingers tightening around his cock, and it took all his willpower not to shove himself down her tempting throat and empty into her.

Panting with restrained exertion, he wound her hair around his fists. He watched, transfixed, as she worked the head of his cock with her mouth and tongue. Sucking him so hard his vision blurred and senses shattered. And still she tortured him with her fingers, as she trailed over his rock-hard balls, cradled them in the palm of her hand and then, shockingly, squeezed.

Fuck. It was too much. He couldn’t hold back any longer. And while the image of her on her knees worshipping his cock was blowing his sanity, he wanted to feel her come around him as he pumped into her tight sheath.

Aurora could barely breathe, barely think as Gabe filled her mouth and filled her hands. He tasted of sex, of sin, of primal desire and forbidden delights. Already her jaw ached, yet she’d only taken the tip of him into her. Tremors flooded her womb as she recalled how he had thrust deep, choking her, and yet a secret part of her hadn’t wanted him to pull back.

He gripped her jaw. Her hair was tangled around his hands and she tried to relax, waiting for the thrust.
Wanting
it. But instead of holding her head still for his further invasion he withdrew.

His cock, wet from her mouth, mesmerized her, and raw, jagged desire speared through her sensitized sheath. But he didn’t give her the chance to admire any longer as he gripped her forearms and hauled her to her feet.

“Finished?” The word was breathless, incoherent. Her jaw didn’t feel as if it quite belonged to her and a decadent smile curved her lips at the thought.

“No.” There was a savage glow in his eyes as if he was on the outer edges of control, and her pulses hammered.

God, he was beautiful. Unblemished bronze flesh molded his strong, perfectly defined musculature and his golden hair brushed his shoulders. He lifted her roughly in his arms and for one surreal moment she imagined him unfurling his glorious wings, enveloping her in the magical cocoon of softness and strength, the scent of arousal and devotion intoxicating her senses.

It was just a fantasy. But it felt so real. As if she was remembering another time . . .

Mephisto
. Disappointment cascaded, even as Gabe hoisted her onto the table. She was only recalling the feel of Mephisto’s wings and superimposing the sensation with Gabe.

Except it wasn’t that at all. And it had nothing to do with Mephisto. It was fading like a distant dream but the fleeting sensation had been so visceral, as if . . .

It was a memory
.

Gabe palmed her bottom and balanced her on the edge of the table. His gaze scorched her, his touch inflamed, yet goose bumps prickled her skin.

“You can’t,” he panted, “be cold.”

She clamped her legs around his waist. She was so desperate to feel his wings her mind was conjuring tricks. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t need his wings because right now she had
him
. And he was all that mattered.

“I’m burning.” She wound her arms over his shoulders and buried her fingers in his glorious hair. “For my archangel.”

For a second he became absolutely still, and the look on his face was impossible to define. As if her words had been not only unexpected but had touched him in a way he hadn’t imagined.

Or maybe it was just her own imagination, looking for something that simply wasn’t there.

“Then you’d better hold on.” His words were raw with warning or promise; she couldn’t tell and didn’t care. His cock nudged her swollen pussy, a teasing, tantalizing kiss. Anticipation sizzled through every cell but still he kept her waiting.

“Gabe.” She was begging.
She didn’t care
. “For god’s sake, I need you inside me.”

His grin was pure evil, forged in heaven and honed in hell. Incoherent moans spilled from her lips but she didn’t even care about that, either. Because Gabe was torturing her in a way she had never believed possible. Slowly, inch by magnificent inch, he eased into her when she desperately craved a brutal possession.

“Now,” he said, a thread of triumph licking his voice, “who’s the impatient one?”

She gripped his waist in a vise, dug her heels into his taut butt and lifted herself from the edge of the table. The sensation of shoving herself along his erection, of feeling her body stretch to accommodate his size, sent ripples of pure lust from her clit to her womb.

“Me.” Her voice was hoarse, her heart stampeding. He filled her so completely and it felt so utterly right. “And I’m about to make you come.”

So fast she barely had time to comprehend, he pinned her to the table. Her fingers were still tangled in his hair; his hands were now imprisoning her hips. And with a thrill of dark delight she saw raw savagery gleam in his eyes.

“But I,” he growled, sounding wild and inhuman, “intend to make
you
come first.”

A couple of well-aimed thrusts was all it would take. She squirmed helplessly beneath him, but his hold was absolute.

Did it matter? She raked her fingernails over his head and felt his big body shudder. Oh, he was close. As close as she. The knowledge inflamed and she slid her legs higher, clamping around his back, jerking him closer. Her internal muscles tightened around his invading length, a mind-blowing caress of silk and flame and spirals of fire licked low and deep.

Mindlessly, she dragged her hand from his hair, scored the skin of his waist and hip with her fingernails. Feverishly, she reached for him, grasped his taut balls, and his primal groan echoed through her blood. Reality blurred as he rammed into her, brutal and savage.

He came, hard and fast, the pleasure so fierce it bordered on agony. She gripped him tight, forgot how to breathe, to think. She could only feel him inside her and see him above her. Sensation consumed, enslaved, and finally only one coherent thought filled her world.

Gabe.

—

EYES CLOSED, GABE
fought for breath. His forehead rested against Aurora’s and her orgasmic scream still echoed in his mind.

His name. She had screamed his name in the exquisite moment that she had come.

Her erratic breath panted against his mouth, her heart hammered against his chest. She was soft and warm and her legs still entrapped him in a silken embrace. Slowly he raised his head and looked at her. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted and she looked utterly enchanting.

A faint flicker of unease drifted through his mind. How many times had he taken her? Why did he still find her so irresistible? Even now, seconds after climax?

He should be craving distance. Feel suffocated by her intimate touch. But even as he probed the thoughts, attempted to ignite them, they slid away, insubstantial and unimportant.

What did it matter how he should be feeling? The truth was plain. He didn’t just want Aurora for the sex. He enjoyed her touch even when they weren’t fucking. Revelation trickled along his spine. Because it was even more than that.

He liked her company. In the short time they’d been together he’d got used to having her here, in his own private sanctuary. It was crazy, but he even liked the way she’d turned his life upside down with her innocence of his world and her incessant desire to assert her own authority.

Gods, she could have no idea just how radically she’d messed with his existence. He never lost control during sex, yet so far he had every time with Aurora.

He’d never brought a mortal to this island. Yet here he was stark naked on the terrace outside his villa, still impaled within her tempting heat.

Her eyelashes flickered. Her blue eyes were glazed. She looked sated and exhausted and guilt stabbed through him. He’d taken her again. After he’d vowed not to. But damn, all she had to do was look at him and he wanted her.