The Stone Warriors: Damian (17 page)

He sucked in a breath against the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. So much had happened since his release, so many new things to learn, people to remember . . . not to mention keeping himself and Cassandra alive. He felt as if this quiet moment sitting next to the pool was the first chance he’d had to truly appreciate his long-delayed freedom. There had been entire decades, centuries even, when he’d been trapped within that statue, that he’d despaired of ever seeing the curse lifted. Times when he’d thought he would go mad, and had tormented himself with thinking up ways to end his existence.

But Sotiris had planned well. He’d been no more capable of killing himself, than he’d been of freeing himself. Thank the gods that Cassandra had come along when she had. He was even grateful that she’d been shot, as selfish as that seemed. Because if she hadn’t been, if blood hadn’t been dripping over her hand, she could have gripped his stone arm all night long, and his curse still wouldn’t have been lifted.

The glass door opened behind him. “Hey,” Cassandra said. “You okay out here?”

He glanced up as she came around his chair. She was wearing skin-tight pants of some stretchy fabric that emphasized the elegant strength in her long legs, and over that, a long-sleeved sweater that kept slipping from her uninjured shoulder. And she wasn’t wearing a bra. He’d seen plenty of bras during his tenure on the roof, and he knew they could be lovely adornments to a woman’s breasts. But nothing was sexier than the sway of Cassandra’s full, naked breasts beneath the silky sweater.

He watched silently as she took the chair across from him and leaned back to take a sip from the glass she carried. “Good choice on the wine.”

He nodded. “This house fairly screams of my old friend Nico. He also had excellent taste.”

She took another small sip. “I’m no connoisseur, but this is delicious.”

He smiled at her enjoyment, then gave a somber nod in her direction. “Your arm?”

“Still sore, but it’s better,” she said cheerfully. “
Much
better than I expected. You did a good job of cleaning it out. I put a new bandage on. A lot smaller,” she added with a chuckle.

He nodded, then turned his attention back to the seemingly endless emptiness around them. Cassandra didn’t say anything for several minutes, then asked, “Does it bother you? The wide-open space, I mean?”

Damian looked at her in surprise. “On the contrary. It’s a balm to my very soul,” he said somberly. “Every single sensation—from the moisture in the air to the sounds all around me—is brighter, sharper, richer than anything I could have imagined, even in my darkest hours of entrapment. Sometimes I think I finally died within the tomb Sotiris crafted for me, and that this is Elysium.”

She tilted her head curiously. “Elysium. The Roman version of heaven. But from what Nick’s told me, and what you’ve said yourself, you guys predate Rome by a whole lot of years.”

He shrugged. “Elysium, Valhalla, nirvana, heaven . . . it doesn’t matter what you call it. They’re all the same.”

She studied him a moment longer. “But you know this isn’t heaven, that you’re alive, right? Because I’m definitely alive, and you’re here with me.”

He grinned and scooted forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, hands dangling between his legs, the wine held loosely in his fingers. “Are you sure of that, Cassandra?”

She laughed. He could have told her that her laugh was one of those sounds that was pure sweetness to his ears. “I’m sure,” she told him. “And I’m hungry. How about you?”

“Ravenous,” he growled and was rewarded with a hot blush that stole over her chest and neck to color her cheeks. He loved the way she blushed like a virgin, but fucked like a siren.

“Damn it. You do that to me every time. I’m going inside to the put the steaks on before this gets any worse.” She stood and started to walk past him, but then stopped. “Would you rather eat out here?”

A rush of warmth filled his chest. She was so busy convincing herself she didn’t care, that she forgot not to do it. She’d taken to heart his comments about being free to breathe the fresh air, but her concern wasn’t necessary. He’d been teasing her, saying he didn’t know if he really was alive and free. But he was certain of both. Just as he was certain no one would ever imprison him again. He’d happily die first. But because he knew it down to the depths of his soul, and because he was a man, not a needy child, he didn’t require constant reinforcement of the truth. And besides, it was too cool out here for Cassandra.

“We should sit inside,” he told her. “It’s the civilized thing to do.”

“Okay, let’s be civilized.” She winked. “Until after dinner anyway.”

CASEY TOOK ANOTHER sip of her delicious wine. The food had been great so far, and she was really looking forward to dessert. So when the hell was Damian going to make his move? Or maybe he was waiting for her? This was stupid. They’d already fucked once. Well, actually more than once. So why the teenaged nerves now?

“Come here,” Damian said, and lifted her hand from the table, urging her out of her chair and around the edge of the table onto his lap.

She frowned. Had she ever sat on a man’s lap before? She didn’t think so, not even her father’s.
Especially
not her father’s.

“Relax,” Damian murmured, one hand massaging up and down her back, strong fingers shaping her spine. That’s all he did for a long time. It was just the two of them in the candlelit room, the patio door open enough to admit the sounds of the night and the fresh air that Damian craved. The movement of his hand was almost hypnotic, his big body so warm. All of her muscles slowly relaxed, one at a time, and she found herself leaning into his heat. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled into his shoulder, rubbing her cheek against his jaw.

Damian made a sound low in his throat as his hand skimmed over her ribs and around to brush the underside of her breast. Casey arched her back in invitation, and he slipped his hand under her sweater to squeeze her breast gently, his thumb dragging over her nipple, rubbing back and forth until it was wildly aroused and exquisitely sensitive. The sensation was almost too much for her and she wanted to sob in relief when he freed her nipple with a gentle caress, only to switch to her other breast to give it the same achingly delicious treatment.

Every movement was so slow, so desperately erotic. She wanted it to go on forever, even as she thought she couldn’t stand another moment. The tension was nearly overwhelming. How long had it been since a man had made love to her like this? Not the quick meet in a bar, have sex, and never see each other again kind of hook-up, but like this . . . slow and seductive.

Hell, she wasn’t sure she’d
ever
experienced anything like this. Like Damian.

His lips touched her neck, warm and wet as he nibbled his way to her mouth, kissing just the corner, before gliding his tongue over the crease of her lips in both invitation and demand. Casey opened her mouth with a soft moan, meeting the spear of his tongue with the tentative touch of her own. His lips moved over hers with a luxurious slowness, as if he had all night to kiss her. She moaned again, almost embarrassed by her easy arousal, by the slick heat building between her thighs.

“Damian,” she whispered, turning into his kiss, twining her tongue around his.

He gripped the bottom of her sweater, and she lifted her arms as he tugged it over her head. She had an instant of embarrassment over her own nakedness, but that was soon lost in the wash of sensation as Damian lowered his head to one breast and sucked her nipple into his warm mouth, his tongue lashing the swollen peak, his teeth coming together in soft bites that flirted with the edge of pain, turning it into the most erotic sensation. She could have sat there all night, letting him worship her breasts.

Thankfully Damian had other plans.

He stood, slipping one arm under her legs and taking her with him, carrying her as if she weighed nothing. She rested her head on his shoulder as he climbed the stairs, trying to remember if anything had ever felt this
right
before. This wasn’t just sex anymore. She was fooling herself.

Damian must have felt her growing tension, or maybe he understood her better than she knew. Because he tightened his grip and tipped his head down to bite her cheek. “Relax, Cassandra. You’ll love dessert.”

She laughed and bit him back. “Will there be chocolate syrup?”

“Oh, baby,” he murmured, kicking the bedroom door open. He strode over and dropped her onto the bed, following her down. “We don’t need chocolate syrup. You’re going to be sticky enough when I’m finished with you.”

Casey shivered, not with the cold—who could be cold with Damian’s heat surrounding her?—but with anticipation. She watched hungrily as he moved away enough to tear off his T-shirt and toss it aside, and then grabbed the waist of her yoga pants and tugged them down her legs, snagging the silk panties she’d donned just to tease him. They were stripped off along with her pants and thrown on the floor on top of his shirt.

Feeling suddenly vulnerable in her nakedness, she opened her mouth to say something, but was stopped when he knelt between her legs, pushing her knees wider as he massaged her calves. His eyes studied her, grazing over her flesh, his regard so intense that it was like a brand, searing his mark into her wherever his gaze landed.

He kissed her, beginning with her knees, the inside of her thighs and then stretching out on top of her to kiss her lips, his tongue tangling with hers, caressing her mouth until her heart was pounding so hard, he had to feel it thumping in rhythm against his chest.

His kisses moved downward to her neck, her breasts, her belly, while his hands stroked every inch of her. She gasped when his broad shoulders spread her thighs and she felt the warm brush of his breath against her heated flesh. She wanted his mouth on her sex. She flexed her hips, thrusting upward, but he placed one big hand on her belly and held her down while he continued tormenting her, licking her swollen outer lips, murmuring about her waxed-bare pussy.

“Smooth as silk, my Cassandra,” he said, a moment before he slid one thick finger into her pussy, her sex so slick and wet with arousal that he’d barely begun before he added a second finger, pumping in and out, while she bucked against his hand, wanting more.

Then she felt the wet heat of his mouth surrounding her clit.

She nearly came off the bed, shocked at the intensity of sensation when he sucked her clit into his mouth, his tongue rasping over the sensitive nub, swelling it, making it throb in rhythm with his fingers as they pumped in and out of her soaking wet pussy. She twisted her fingers into his long hair, moaning softly, her knees hugging his shoulders. He was a solid presence between her legs, an immoveable force.

“Please, Damian,” she whispered, her voice catching on a sob.

His tongue swirled around her clit, pressing hard. She cried out, her hips jerking, pushing her pussy against his demanding mouth. He chuckled, his breath an aching brush against her too sensitive flesh, and then, with no warning, he sucked the rigid nub into his mouth and bit down, his teeth scraping against the aching bundle of nerves.

She came like a rocket, crying out over and over, his hold on her the only thing keeping her from bucking off the bed, she was thrashing so hard. Waves of intense sensation unlike anything she’d ever felt before rippled through her body, pulsing in time with her pounding heart. She clutched her fingers in his hair, tugging hard enough to cause pain, desperate for something, anything, to break the cycle of consuming pleasure that had taken over every inch of her body.

He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating over her throbbing clit, and she groaned his name, “Damian.” It was half worship for the man who could bring her this much pleasure, and half a plea for it to stop before she lost herself completely.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded, and she could feel the heat of his breath on her sex-slicked thighs.

She fought to obey, struggled to find the right nerves and muscles to lift her eyelids and gaze down at him. With a wicked smile, he slid his fingers out of her pussy, and slowly, deliberately licked her juices off of each thick digit. She blushed at the sight. She couldn’t help it. This was more than sex. This was lust, dark and sinful, addictive, delicious. And she wanted more.

“Fuck me,” she growled, fisting her fingers in his hair and yanking, wanting to know that he felt
something,
even if it was only pain.

Damian’s smug smile disappeared in an instant, replaced by a desire so fierce that her heart stuttered. Without warning, he pushed upright, her straining thighs closing over her bare pussy, which was suddenly bereft of his warmth. But not for long. His eyes never leaving hers, he pushed his jeans down his legs to the floor, leaving him completely naked at last. His cock jutted out, thick and long and hard as he dropped one knee to the bed. She licked her lips, and he gave an evil laugh that held nothing good, but promised all sorts of delicious bad.

“Spread your legs, Cassandra,” he ordered impatiently, and she did. Eagerly, hungrily. “Wider, darling,” he chided. “I want to see you.”

That touch of sin, the forbidden wantonness, made her blush, and she thought of resisting. But she couldn’t. She wanted him to fuck her, wanted that beautiful cock, which jerked under the weight of her gaze. She lifted her eyes at this evidence of his arousal, seeing a hunger to match her own, proof that she wasn’t the only one sinning tonight.

“Fuck me, Damian,” she whispered again.

He knelt on the bed, his rough fingers gripping her ankles as he bent her legs, pushing her knees to her chest, stretching her out even wider. Cassandra was totally exposed for an instant, brazenly on display, but then he thrust his cock into her empty pussy, gliding on the slippery cream of her climax, the juices of her renewed arousal coating her thighs. His eyes were hot with desire, black pupils all but erasing the coffee-dark brown of his irises.

He groaned as he pushed in deep. “By the gods, you’re tight. A hot, tight glove that grips my cock and won’t let go.”

He fucked her slowly at first, long smooth thrusts that went as deep as he could go, before pulling out nearly all the way, until just the tip of his cock was buried in her pussy, and then doing it again. Fucking her steadily, slowly, while his mouth was everywhere, kissing her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes. Sucking on her neck as she clung to him, her arms strong around his shoulders, her legs around his hips, ankles crossed to hold him deeper with every thrust.