Demon Chained (Shadowfae Chronicles) (28 page)

His hungry gaze travelled over me, up and down. "Take your shirt off."

I fumbled for the buttons.

He dragged the silk aside, and devoured me with his eyes. "Beautiful."

He sat up, and inhaled my scent, a sweep of hair and lips across my skin, and I burned. God, I longed for those lips on me, my flesh in his mouth. "Kiss me, Tam. Please— oh!"

He swept my breast with his tongue, slick and warm, and sucked my nipple deep into the dark wet heat of his mouth. My inner muscles melted. Yes. Nothing ever felt this wonderful. He sucked harder, flicking his tongue over my nipple. I quivered, heat rising in my belly. I closed my eyes, pressure clenching my thighs tighter and tighter, and tingles erupted in my sex, spreading. My fingers clawed his hair, shaking. Oh, my. No way. I can't, not just from that . . .

Delicately, he crushed my nipple in his teeth, pressing his thigh between my legs, and delight split me apart. Raw pleasure raked through me, dragging sensation all the way to my fingertips. "Oh, fuck." I pressed into his mouth, onto his body, searching for more. The last shakes wrung from me, hard and unforgiving. I dragged in a broken breath. "Uh. Sorry. I didn't mean to . . ."

"Don't ever apologize for that." He kissed me, and tiny aftershocks rippled along my skin, such sweet pain. He watched me, his eyes drunk and greedy. "You're so wild and free. You come like a goddess. I want to see it again."

No problem, sweetheart. Already my body yearned for more surprises. I stretched up in his lap, pleasured but far from sated. Sweat trickled down my chest, cool in the summer breeze, and damp hair stuck to my cheeks. I wanted more of him, everything of him, in me, on me, over me.

He traced his fingertips up my thighs. My muscles sparkled under his touch. He delved into the creases at the tops of my thighs, exploring my shapes through the thin wet silk. I could feel him under me, so hard and ready, and I shuddered, afire. God, I wanted him to fuck me. I wasn't talking about foreplay or making love. I wanted his cock, rammed up tight inside me until I couldn't breathe. I wanted to know what he was like, his smell, his words, the sound he made when he came, the taste of his liquid. I wanted to know what that dirty-sexy body felt like.

His thumbs crept closer to my center, maddeningly slow. I gripped his wrist to hurry him but he shook me off. "My way, witch. Undo those pants."

I scrabbled the knotted sash undone and pulled it until my pants loosened. Still he stroked me through the fabric, tracing tingles along the sensitive curves of my flesh. "Show me. Don't get up. Just take them off."

The thought of being naked in front of him while he was still dressed ignited fresh flames deep inside. Swiftly I tugged my pants over my butt, straining upwards to get the heated silk over my thighs and then sitting back to drag my knees free. Finally I freed my feet of sandals and silk, and tossed them away. Rough grass prickled my toes, and fresh breeze tickled me. A smile tempted my lips. I loved being naked outdoors. Screwing outdoors was even better.

He licked his lips. "Come here."

I nearly swooned. I wanted him to lick me, oh yes, feel that clever tongue on my clit, feel the way my desire excited him. Fucking could wait. I scrambled up his body, pebbles digging into my knees. His hair slid warm on my thighs, and gently he parted my flesh and slid his tongue in. One stroke, and blood misted before my eyes. God, it felt insanely good, the heat, the slickness, the hot pressure of his breath. He teased my clit, sweeping it into his mouth and sucking the tender little bud out of hiding, then flicking his tongue over and over it.

My muscles clenched, and tension coiled in my belly, deep and hard and so good I moaned. Desperation gripped me along with desire. "No. I want you to feel this. Let me go down on you."

Yeah, I was begging. I didn't care. I wanted this so badly. This was how we fit, how it was supposed to be. I wriggled around, trying to turn, and after a moment he relaxed his hands and let me.

I scrambled around and straddled him, my pulse skipping in anticipation. Straight away he parted my thighs and licked me, tracing my shapes, teasing over and around me but not quite dipping inside, and it felt so good I ripped up fistfuls of grass, my legs shaking. I fumbled his jeans open, springing his cock free, the raw and musky smell of Tam. Mmm. I liked his cock. Thick, straight, hard. Very hard, in fact, slippery with a spill of moisture.

I'd like to tease. I really would. But the things he was doing with his tongue demanded retaliation. I gripped the base of his cock and slid my mouth down hard.

He groaned, and jerked in my mouth, pressing against my palate. The taste of him spread, salty and rich, and I ran my tongue over the silken skin, savoring him. I did like going down on a man. I liked the way they went wild for it, lost control even though they were the ones with their flesh in your mouth. But something about Tam made it hotter than ever. The fact that we were pleasuring each other in a park, where anyone could see us, and I was naked, breeze teasing my skin. The strangeness of his body, fragrant and odd but glorious.

I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock and sucked, and he shuddered under me and pulled back. "Jesus, don't do that. It's not clean, you can't . . . oh, shit."

I sucked harder, pulling sweet liquid from him with my tongue, and my mouth burst bright with sensation. Damn, he tasted fine. So dark and delicious, full of flesh tones and salt, not sour or ugly but beautiful.

He groaned, and swiped his hot tongue down to torture my clit, and at the same time eased a finger inside me.

At last. Sensation exploded along my spine, into my core, and my sex swelled even tighter. I released his cock to cry out. "Oh, God, stop."

He just pushed deeper.

My nerves shredded. I was so tense, so tight. His finger felt huge, parting my clenched muscles. "Stop. I can't . . ." But he kissed me softly, his mouth gentle and hot on my flesh, and gradually the painful tension worked out of me, only to have pleasure take its place. Deep, slow pleasure, easing through my body, sparkling like a hot fairy drug. My muscles lost their memory, drowned in bliss. I couldn't move. I couldn't think of anything beyond how good he felt.

If he didn't stop soon, I'd fall apart again. I longed for connection, longed to carve so many years of neglect and frustration out of my memory and throw them in the garbage where they belonged. Just for an hour or two, before I had to go. But not like this. I wanted to see his face, watch him as he pleasured me, take his mouth with mine and scream my pleasure down his throat.

I tried to talk, and I must at least have whimpered some incoherent protest, because he withdrew and licked back down over my sex, savoring me. "Turn around, precious girl. Let's feel you."

My limbs shuddered, aching and useless, but I forced them to move and scrambled around to face him. I sat up on him, drinking in the sight of him, locking it in my memory to keep. His cock teased my thighs, still wet from my mouth. I wanted to ride him, force him into me, feel his flesh sliding inside me.

He lifted up on his elbows and dragged his torn shirt off, flipping that black-soaked hair over his dusky shoulders. My mouth watered. He was delicious. I'd seen him naked before, but it didn't stop me reveling in the sight, his scarred skin, the sensuous ink carving up his arm, the bleeding wounds that only accentuated the fine smoothness of his skin, the dark stains of blood and shadow that dragged my eyes to tasty curves I longed to lick.

My nipples tweaked tighter in the warm air, and I reached out, but he caught my hand, a dark smile flitting across his face. "Bad girl." He pressed my hand back into my lap. "Touch for me. I want to see."

My sex twitched, impatient. "But—"

"Touch. But don't come unless I say."

I smirked. So he wanted a show? I'd give him one. I closed my eyes, and let one finger slide gently between my folds, tracing around the sensitive cluster of nerves. My finger felt cool, hard, invasive after his tongue. "Mmm." I shifted to get better access, and his cock slid against my thigh, tempting. I liked the powerful feeling of him watching me. I imagined him getting off on it, transfixed.

I let my head fall back, showing off my breasts, and stroked my clit so he could see me enjoy it. It swelled, greedy under my touch, and roots of pleasure wriggled deep into my body. "Oh, God. Yeah. That's so good." I used my other hand to spread myself open wider, give him something to look at. I let my eyelids slit open, so I could see him drink me in, and my pulse jerked, hard.

He wasn't watching my fingers. He watched my face, his eyes clear and dark and fiery with fascination.

Our gazes locked, and my heart fluttered. Oh, my. Trouble, Jewel. Big trouble.

Intent and desire sparked alight in his eyes. He yanked me down onto him, dizzying. My breasts slid on his chest, mixing in the wonderful feel of him, but before I could savor it he tipped me off him onto my back and covered me, his blossom-scented hair cocooning my face and making a secret place just for us two.

Our thighs tangled, my wetness pressing into his bare skin, his cock slipping between my legs. The contours of his body molded to me, perfect. Warm grass crinkled under my bare back, my skin quivering so delicately from his touch that I could feel every blade.

He rubbed his cheek on mine, the friction so sweet. "Jewel," he whispered, tasting the word like he'd been longing to make those sounds for too long. "Jewel, Jewel, Jewel. You mess with my head, you know that?"

My heart overflowed. Even an inch from making love to me, he watched his imperatives. I didn't know how long we had left, but I wanted to spend it all here, close to him.

"Love me, Tam." My voice cracked. I knew he didn't. It didn't matter. I felt it, and it was real. Not just blind, lamp-spelled instinct. Real.

"Love me. Please." I wriggled, so I could feel his every curve pressing into me, and my body ached with need. God, if he didn't take me now, I'd cry. Please, let him understand that.

He cradled my head in his forearms, and lowered his mouth to mine. Our lips melted together. I drank him, tasting the inside of his mouth, so slick and hot, our essences mingling like smoke. He nudged my legs further apart, pressing against me where I was so tense it felt like the first time, nerve-wracking and terrifying and wonderful. Bumps shrank my skin, and fever burned me, deep and insatiable. I kissed him harder. Thirst raged in my throat, and only the rich, dark taste of him would do.

He slipped bloody fingers into my hair, and my scalp tingled at his touch. He caressed my temples with his thumbs and slowly, gently, carefully slid into me.

Oh, my. Just an inch at first, like he knew what I was thinking and feeling and wanting and it hurt like he'd broken me but he hadn't, he just flexed and filled me further and deeper and I drowned in our kiss and drank in his breath until he'd opened me all the way, and the deeper he went, the harder my heart thudded.

My skin sparkled, with sensation that started deep inside and spread like liquid wildfire. So tight, so full and hot and perfect. We fit, my man and I. We understood and liked each other, made each other feel good and worthwhile, and in an hour or a few minutes when the sun came up, he'd be mine no longer.

My chest constricted, suddenly too small to hold my lungs, and I tore away from our kiss, breathless.

He dropped his forehead onto mine, and his breath caressed my face, feverish with desire. "So beautiful."

He was beyond beautiful. He moved in me again, sliding his hand down to pull my thigh around him, and warm tears burst beneath my eyelids to slide down my cheek. My throat hurt. I hadn't expected to feel it this much. What would happen once my lamp was gone, the magic ripped away? Would we lose this? Would we even care about each other anymore?

His kiss brushed over my cheekbone, and he licked my tears away. "Don't think. Just this. Only this."

I couldn't reply. I couldn't swallow, or speak. The way he read my mind was too much. Already the pleasure swelled where we joined, my flesh tightening inside. His broken skin slicked on my leg, the coppery blood smell mingling with the sharp scent of us. His hair swayed softly on my shoulders, entrancing me. I loved his skin's warm grittiness where I stroked his back, filling my palms with his delicious texture, delicate skin over hard muscle.

He gasped, biting my lip until our blood mixed, and swallowed it with a groan. "God, you're perfect."

The fusion of pain and desperate pleasure took me unawares, and I cried out, the sensation shocking all the way to my foolish heart. I didn't want this. But I couldn't help it. Infatuation, hormones, the lamp's magic, call it what you want. I didn't love him—surely not—but I was
in
love with him, here, now, in this moment.

I clutched him tighter, my nails raking along his skin, and tilted my hips up to him over and over, forcing him harder, faster. Heat filtered deeper, more intense, and my muscles rippled, threatening. "God, I'm going to come. Please, let me—"

"Do it." His breathing came shorter, his muscles rigid under my hands, his movements inside me rough and hard and just the way I wanted it.

God, I adored how he made love to me. I loved how he hurt me, just a little, not too raw or painful, just enough for my pleasure and his own. My muscles convulsed around him, and the fire of my desire engulfed me like I'd never known it before. I'd never felt like this. "More. Please, just a little more—"