Demon From the Dark (24 page)

           
Strangely, her hurting wrist was nearly forgotten--

           
Without warning, he seized her, tucking her under his arm against his hip, and headed back for the pool.

           
"Drop me, demon! Now!"

           
Instead, he carted her right back into the water, setting her on her feet beneath one of the cascades. As she sputtered, he ripped free the T-shirt she wore.

           
"This is your bright idea?" Surprisingly unafraid of him, she struck his chest with the bottom of one fist. "Way to get back in my good graces, asshole!"

           
Without even acknowledging her useless hits, he patiently held up his finger. His eyes were flickering back to the steady blue.

           
"One moment? Forget it, don't wanna stay." At his unbending look, she said, "Listen, I'm sorry for whatever happened to you, because evidently, damage was done. But I'm not your spank moppet or whipping girl, or anything like that--" She squinted at his hand. "Um, where are your claws?" He'd bitten them away. How thoroughly was he planning on touching her?

           
He bent to drag down her thong.

           
Carrow's rebellion? Chin raised, she said, "I'm not stepping out of it."

           
Not a problem for Slaine; he briefly lifted her and removed it, tossing it by her bra.

           
Then he took one of the cloths, lathering it with the soap, his mien resolute.

           
"I-I haven't said yes to any--"

           
He pressed the cloth to her chest, softly rubbing her with easy strokes. Despite herself she was intrigued by this unexpected side of him. Amazingly, she found herself relaxing.

           
With one hand, he unhurriedly scrubbed. With his other he covered one shoulder, his palm warm over her skin. So lightly, he pressed his thumb against her muscle there, massaging.

           
When she moaned, he must have taken this as a sign of her surrender, because masculine satisfaction surged through him--fueling her power once more.

           
The cloth was momentarily forgotten as he used the backs of his fingers to skim her cheek, her jawline, then the length of her neck and lower.

           
With decisive action, he'd hunted, he'd warred, and he'd protected her. Now he was tentative as he traced the lines of her shoulders, his eyes following his every movement. No man had ever looked at her as he did--like she was the best thing in the world.

           
He caressed the pads of his fingers over her collarbone so tenderly that she was staggered by his gentleness. Such a killer, such a warrior, yet look at what he was capable of.

           
He murmured to her in Demonish. She didn't understand the words, but she recognized the tone--wonderment. For the first time in her life, Carrow felt
treasured
. And, gods, that was a heady feeling.
I could get addicted to this.

           
From her collarbone, he smoothed his forefinger down ... down. Just as he was about to reach her nipple, when she was trembling for that contact, he let out a shuddering breath and circled the peak.

           
She bit her lip.
No, touch me there, demon!

           
Instead he returned the cloth to her chest, seeming determined to wash her as she'd done him.

           
But when she arched her back while whispering,
"Please, demon,"
he groaned, dipping the cloth over her breasts, across her achy nipples.

           
She gave a cry, earning another lash of satisfaction from him, power pouring from him to her, enabling her magic again.

           
As her eyes slid shut, she hazily debated:
Heal my wrist, or force the demon to release me?

           
Beneath the cloth, his sneaky thumb swept over her nipple. "Oh, Malkom,
yes.
"

           
Her wrist? Good as new.

Chapter 18

           
Determined to wash all of her body, Malkom somehow dragged his hands away from her breasts.

           
He would minister to her for as long as she had to him. Even if this meant denying his swollen shaft or ignoring the breasts that she offered up.

           
When she arched her back ... and they begged for his attention.

           
So he ran the cloth from her chest to one of her shoulders, rubbing and massaging down to her fingertips. Her other arm received the same attention. He paused at both of her hands, fascinated by how small and fragile they were, comparing their size to his own hands.

           
Everything about her body was utterly feminine. Her thighs were shapely, her backside generous, her hips flaring out from a tiny waist. He marveled at every sweep of creamy skin, every womanly swell and dip.

           
He was exploring her--and for some reason, she was allowing him to fully.

           
Among all his other discoveries, he'd noticed that she had no hair on her legs or under her arms. Aside from her long mane atop her head, and the intriguing patch betwixt her legs, her body was bare.

           
But he loved how smooth her skin was, how her body was so different from his.

           
Next came her back. He turned her around, tugging her hair forward over one shoulder. He was tempted to press his mouth against her nape but feared he would alarm her after his earlier bites.

           
Instead, he worked both the cloth and his bare hand in circular motions from her neck down to the curves of her backside, as if polishing a treasure.

           
He turned her to face him once more, laying a palm over one of her generous hips to pin her as he ran the cloth upward from her knees. She was shaking under his hand.

           
"Do not stop me, Carrow," he told her in Demonish, his voice rough. "I will not hurt you again."

           
The demon certainly had been thorough, washing every inch of her from the navel up--and occasionally lower. He'd even slipped the side of his hand between her cheeks, making her start in alarm, but he'd merely continued his task.

           
Now he steadily rubbed up her thighs, inch by agonizing inch as he murmured to her in a husky voice. She was shivering, holding her breath, anticipating his "washing" her.

           
But it wasn't a cloth that touched her there--he'd cupped her in his hot, callused palm.

           
"Oh!"

           
Shuddering with pleasure, he rasped,
"Sife ara."
Soft female.

           
With his other hand clamped over her hip, he held her steady as his forefinger began to investigate her sex, tickling her as it tentatively roved. Between his lean hips, his shaft pulsed with excitement, his piercings glinting across his taut flesh.

           
Soon, she couldn't comprehend how he'd controlled himself for as long as he had when she'd washed him. Already, she was on the verge, wanting his mouth on hers as she climaxed. "Kiss me."

           
"Kiiiss?"

           
Caught up in the moment, she stood on her toes. Holding his face between her hands, she pressed her lips against his.

           
He froze, clearly not knowing what to do.

           
"Did I freak you out again?" she asked against his lips, their breaths mingling. His eyes were still open, his expression confounded. Damn it, she'd made a point to let him drive the boat. "Got too excited. Sorry." She began to draw away, afraid he'd start throwing fists. "Won't happen again--"

           
Like a shot, he wrapped his free palm over her nape, tugging her till their lips met.

           
Now her eyes widened, but when his lids slid shut, so did hers. She grazed her mouth over his, then again. And all the while he lazily fondled her sex.

           
Light, fleeting kisses, and flicks of her tongue followed. When she pulled back, his hooded gaze was that of a male who'd just gone to heaven.

           
She drew in once more, licking the seam of his lips. As they eagerly parted, her tongue darted inside to meet his. He groaned in surprise.

           
Though hesitant at first, he caught on swiftly. Soon his tongue twined against hers, her moans mixed with his stunned growls as his fingers played.

           
He cautiously pressed one to her opening. As soon as he'd breached her entrance, she gasped from the delicious fullness inside. But he jerked his hand away, breaking from the kiss.

           
"What? Why'd you stop?"

           
He was studying her expression. Fearing he'd hurt her?

           
"Oh, you didn't hurt me." She took his hand, kissing his palm, then easing it back between her legs. "That's it, Malkom. I should have told you it felt so nice."

           
When he returned his finger to her core, he slipped it farther within. Her sheath clamped down on it, and his eyes widened with astonishment. She could perceive that feeling of wonder emanating from him.

           
And she knew. He'd never felt a woman like this. In a hazy part of her brain, she recognized that he was a virgin, at least with women.

           
"Ah, Carrow."
The deeper he pushed in his finger, the more the heel of his palm pressed against her clitoris.

           
She began to rock against his hand. "Feels so good, demon." Getting closer ... so close. "Just a few seconds more."

           
But he withdrew his finger, leaning forward to rasp in her ear, "Sex." His erection pressed high on her belly, insistent. He gripped it in his fist, as if to position it.

           
"Malkom, no!"

           
"Yes!
Need
."

           
"No!"
Don't ruin this, please, don't ruin it.
"Demon, please."

           
Just when she was about to retreat, he said,
"Kiss,"
as he cupped her breast.

           
She exhaled a shaky breath. "Only k-kiss?"

           
In answer, he rubbed her nipple and licked his lips.

           
Carrow gazed at his mouth and had to bite back a moan.

           
Malkom had always thought that females had more control over their bodies, could master their urges. Males were the more animalistic ones.

           
Gods almighty. My woman is shaking from her need to come.

           
Of course he'd attempted to claim her!

           
She was wet, and that meant she needed him inside her. When his member hardened to take her, her sex would grow damp to better receive it.

           
He and his
ara
were both there.

           
Yet Malkom had agreed to Carrow's terms, so he would respect her wishes in this. Still, his demon instinct screamed within him to satisfy her. He intended to with his mouth, kissing her body.

           
He'd start with her soft breasts. On his way down to them, he ran his lips along her neck, nuzzling her collar to kiss the bite mark there. Just as his fangs sharpened, he noticed her sudden tension.
She fears another bite.

           
So he hastened down to one of her breasts, his tongue flicking at the moisture still dripping on them from the ceiling above. With a groan, he took one sweet nipple between his lips to suck, eyes sliding shut as it puckered to the tip of his swirling tongue.

           
When she moaned low and cupped her breast to his mouth, he commanded himself,
Last, Slaine, last! Do not come ...

           
Oh, yes, his woman loved this as much as he. Malkom would be at her breasts any chance he got. She cupped her other one for him to repeat his attentions.

           
Yet as he suckled, he scented her arousal deepening. Drawn to that part of her, he kissed lower toward her small patch of silky black curls. Her flat belly dipped as he grazed his lips over it.

           
Before when he'd felt her inside, she'd been wet like water but slippery like cream. Needing to taste her, he knelt between her legs. She let him hook her knee over his shoulder, unabashed. When he saw her sex, he knew why--she was perfect.