Fallen Death (The Trihune Series Book 3) (19 page)

His gaze fell to their joined fingers and stayed. “I was raised in Africa. In a small village.”

“Africa? You don’t have an accent.” She set her glass on the coffee table, faced him.

“I haven’t lived there for many, many years.” At her silence, he continued. “I never knew my father. Since I was old enough to remember, I’d been told he was
ibi
. Evil. He’d been a wanderer. Not part of our village. My mother had been by the stream washing clothes when he passed. She’d been alone. He raped her. Brutally.”

Asjhone’s fingers tightened around his, but she didn’t speak.

“My mother wished she’d killed me the moment she’d learned I was growing inside her belly.”

Asjhone sucked in a breath.

“I received the marks on my face when I was five. I’d been caught playing with the other children. See, it was forbidden. I was allowed to live in the village. Sleep there. Eat the leftovers. But I was not to speak or talk to anyone, except my mother, who didn’t want anything to do with me. I was the son of a rapist. Poison. The sins of my father, the elders believed, had been passed down to me through his seed. Punishment was swift if I disobeyed. A strapping. No food. Extra chores. It didn’t take long to learn it was better if I was never seen or heard.

“I’d often follow the other children from a distance. Watch them play. Wonder at their games. Their laughter. One day I got too close. A round rock they’d been playing with landed near my feet. I picked it up. Threw it to them. The boy that caught it smiled, beckoned me closer. One of the women saw this interaction. Told the elders.

“The boy said he didn’t know who I was. He was lying, of course. Everyone in the village knew. But the boy’s father was part of the council.

“The elders decided I should be marked to avoid further mistakes. Everyone would know upon sight who and what I was.

“Four large cuts were made on each cheek with a sharp blade. Then in order to prevent it from healing properly, and, thus, perhaps fool others, a powder was pushed into the wounds. It burned my skin.” He paused. Resisted the urge to touch his cheeks. “The powder was successful.”

“That’s . . . barbaric. They . . . How. . . To a child? Where was your mother?”

He hesitated, shook his head, continued speaking. “For a while, I believed them. I was evil. Deserved punishment. Wasn’t I half my father? Was his blood, not my blood? It took many years to realize I was my own person. Made my own decisions. Lived my own consequences. I could choose to be good. To make right choices.

“And, though what they did was extreme, I
had
done wrong. I knew I wasn’t supposed to play with those children. I did it anyway.”

Asjhone slid off the couch, knelt in front of him. Ducked her head, until he met her gaze. There were tears in her eyes. One slipped down her cheek. “You think you deserved that punishment?”

He shrugged, frowned, wiped the tear from her face. “I’ve come to peace with my past. I didn’t say this for your sympathy or concern. I said it to ease your worry over your son. He’s a good boy, Asjhone. You’re a great mother. He’ll grow up to be kind and gentle just like you. He’ll make mistakes, everyone does, but in his heart,” he placed a hand over his chest, “he’ll be good. And that’s what’s important.”

She rose, lifted her robe before placing a knee on either side of his legs. On his lap, she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugged him tight. He held on just as strong, listened to her quiet sniffles, sometimes felt the wetness on her cheek where it rested against his neck. After a while she pushed back, stared into his eyes, then her gaze moved to his cheeks before placing her lips upon every scar.

A lump grew in his throat with every soft, gentle sweep of her mouth. “I love you.” He spoke the words without thinking and froze, waiting for her reaction.

Her slow growing smile restarted his heart. “I hadn’t planned it. Was afraid to wish for it. But, I love you, too.”

He cupped her head, brought her closer. An inch before their lips met, Asjhone paused.

“Will you come to my bedroom?” Her words were spoken quietly. The scent of jasmine and chocolate thickened the air.

His dick stirred at just the thought of getting to taste her again. “Yes.” Then stood, not letting go of her. She giggled, wrapped her legs around his waist, tightened her grip around his neck. The laugh was light, carefree and held none of her earlier melancholy.

New favorite.

Inside the bedroom, he set her down and closed the door. At her glance, said, “I will hear Keandre if he calls out.”

She considered for a moment, then, “Okay.”

He was at her side. Had her robe untied and parted in the next instance. Then sucked in a breath. Her beauty hadn’t been forgotten. It was imprinted on his brain, but somehow she still managed to steal his breath.

“This,” he had to pause, swallow. “This is what you’d been wearing underneath your robe the whole time?” He was unable to raise his gaze from her perfection.

She chuckled. A bit embarrassment. Some amusement. A lot of pleasure.

Definite favorite.

Then she closed off his view, wrapping the garment back around her.

He gave a low growl.

She inhaled sharply. And he would’ve thought he’d scared her until her scent bloomed again. Her hand rested on his chest. “Stop. This isn’t why I brought you in here.”

The letdown was huge. All the plans he’d been making since he rose from the couch came to an abrupt halt. His cock almost wept its disappointment. “It’s not?” He couldn’t contain the whine in his voice. Finally lifted his gaze, resisting the urge to untie her robe.

“I want to do something for you.” She cupped his cheek.

His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“I want to pleasure you, like you did me a few days ago.”

Asjhone’s mouth around him . . . A shudder ran through him. Followed by panic, but he pushed that aside. “You want to pleasure me?” His voice was low.

Her chest rose faster. “Yes,” she breathed.

“Good.” He untied her robe and had it sailing across the room before she could protest.

Nothing. She’d been wearing absolutely nothing underneath her robe.

“Wait—”

He picked her up, laid her on the bed. Two seconds later was in between her legs.

“Sarid—oh.”

The long, slow lick up her center was just the appetizer. And he planned to order seconds of that before even getting to the main course.

“This isn’t what—”

He dug into his feast. Licking. Sucking. Eating up every moan and pant she gave.

“How do you turn me on so fast?” she groaned, hands fisting the sheet underneath her.

His hand glided over her belly to cup her breast. Lightly pinch her nipple. She arched her back. And, damn, if that didn’t make him conflicted as to where to put his mouth next.

Stay where he was? Or head north?

Her muscles tensed. “I’m going to come,” she gasped, pushing her hips off of the bed.

Decision made. He’d postpone his visit for a bit.

Letting go of her breast, he slid his fingers inside her warm heat. Moved them out. In. Continued pleasuring her with his hand and mouth until she cried out, her walls tightening around his fingers. Once was never enough, though. With his tongue and fingers he made her come three more times before she pushed him away.

“Enough.” The word had no strength behind it, but he complied, remembering his earlier dilemma.

Her body was lax, arms and legs spread, eyes closed. He made his way up, kissing and gently biting until he reached his destination. Nipples already hard, he sucked one into his mouth. Swirled his tongue around it.

She cupped his head. “I’m mad at you,” she moaned.

With a soft pop, he let go of his prize. “You’re mad?”

One lid lifted. Her expression mock-stern. “Yes. This wasn’t what I had in mind.”

His shoulders relaxed. “But you wanted to pleasure me, yes?”

Her lips pursed. “You know what I wanted.”

“Hearing you say my name in that way you do when you come.” He closed his eyes. Inhaled deep. “Pleasures me to no end.”

Eyes softened for only a moment, before determination formed. She reached down. Stroked him through his jeans.

He sucked in a breath.

Her hand squeezed gently. Then moved up and down again. “But what if I want the same thing?”

Their eyes locked. His breath became unstable. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

“Will you let me?” she asked after a moment, her hand never pausing its rhythm. “I’ll stop any time you’re uncomfortable.”

“I . . .”

She stroked faster. He groaned.

“Please,” she whispered and brushed her lips against his. Swept her tongue along his lower lip. “Please.”

Pressure was building. Both in his cock and in his chest. His last conversation with the pastor flowed through his head. Trust yourself. Trust the Creator.

He checked in with the demon. Nothing. Like he’d thought, the demon was soothed by Asjhone’s touch.

Nerves began to rise. Only a small amount due to fear and what could happen.

A strangled moan escaped when Asjhone’s thumb rubbed the spot where the head of his erection pressed against the denim. “Yes,” he managed. “Yes.”

She stilled, then ripped her hand away. He couldn’t stop the groan at its absence. Her lower lip was in between her teeth. Deep lines in the middle of her forehead.

His eyebrow rose. “Change your mind?”

She shook her head. Pursed her lips.

He resisted the urge to lower his hips, press his cock—now pulsing with need—against her still warm heat. Instead, he lay on his side. Brushed a stray hair behind her ear. “What’s the matter then?”

“I feel like I tricked you somehow.”

“Tricked me?”

“Coerced you into saying yes. With my hand.”

It took a moment to catch up. “First you’re mad I pleasured you, because you wanted to pleasure me. Then when you do begin to pleasure me and I tell you yes I’m okay with it, you feel guilty?”

She dropped her head into her hands. “Yes,” she said, voice muffled.

He groaned. “Woman, you drive me crazy.”

With a sigh, she sat up. His gaze fell to her breasts. Didn’t realize his hand had reached up to stroke one, until she caught it, held it. “I wanted you to come to me willingly, but instead I bullied you. My hand bullied your,” she waved a hand to his crotch, “penis into it. And that’s not what I wanted. I want your mind on the same page as your—”

He placed a finger over her mouth. “Don’t say it. With that word you managed to knock,” he gestured to his zipper. “Him out completely.”

“Well, I am a nurse.”

“Yes,” he said and sat up. He threaded fingers through her hair, kissed her. “Listen. I love it when you touch me. On the cheek. My chest. Lips. And, yes, even when your hand was on my,” he flashed a grin. “Penis. I want you to pleasure me. You didn’t bully me into a decision. It was your love and patience and tenderness that swayed me. Okay?”

Her eyes searched his face. “Okay.”

“But you can only do it for a little while. I’m getting hungry again.”

She laughed. It was a different one. A naughty one. His new favorite. Her hand trailed down his shirt. “Will you take this off? Pants, too?”

Not removing his eyes from her, he stood, stripped off his shirt, then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, letting them fall to the floor.

Her gaze slowly traveled over his chest, abs, then lower. She sucked in air. “No underwear. A regular occurrence? God, I hope so.” The words were spoken under her breath, not meant for his ears, but that didn’t stop his smile. She didn’t notice, though. Had yet to lift her eyes.

He’d lied to her earlier. He was still hard. And very eager to feel her hands, barrier-free, on him. It seemed impossible, but his cock grew even more under her scrutiny.

With a shake of her head, her gaze lifted. She moved to make room for him on the bed. It was his turn to stare. Would he ever tire of looking at her?

His hand lifted of its own accord, thumbed an erect nipple—no, no he wouldn’t—then cupped as much as he could, massaging gently. She closed her eyes, head falling back. He slid his hand to the other breast.

“No. Stop it. It’s my turn.”

His lips turned up at the lack of command in her voice. He lowered his mouth to her chest, wrapped his arm around her back.

She inhaled, clutched the back of his head. “I’m serious, Sarid,” she said, pulling him closer.

He chuckled. Another quick taste of each breast, then a soft bite at her neck, and he eased back.

“How do you do that?”

He tilted his head. “What?”

“Make me want you so much?”

“Do I?”

“Oh, yes.” She placed her hand on his shoulders. Slid them down his chest, stomach. The pace was agonizingly slow. Her eyes followed their path. “With just one touch from your mouth or hand,” she continued, voice growing husky. “I’m left achy. Needy. So desperate. A fire that seems impossible to quench.”

His breaths were coming faster now, gaze following her progress. Every place she caressed was like an electric blanket. First a warm calm feeling he always received from her touch. Second, a spark followed by low building heat. “Let me put yours out,” he rasped. “I can do it. Again. And again. As many times as you want.”

She finally reached her destination. Her hands wrapped him completely. He gasped, jerked out of her grip. A relief and a torment.

Her gaze snapped to his. “What about your fire?” Her tone hadn’t changed. Still low. Throaty.

“I . . . I . . .” He swallowed thickly.

“Lay on the bed for me?”

Indecision raced through him. Was this a good idea? Demon check showed he was still in the clear. Nerves had him hoping to use the Other as an excuse. He’d faced off Fallen, fought daily with a demon, but was more frightened of the human
nheqeba
next to him.