He leaned down and kissed her cheek, ear, neck. In a guttural voice he said, “How bad do you want my cock inside you right now, Willow?” Willow moaned, her hips rocking against his hand. He sent a mental picture straight into her mind making her core clench as she remembered the way his cock felt inside her. Full and deep, filling.
“More than anything!” She pushed against his hand but he let up on the pressure, pushing her into a rhythm of his choosing. His light but aggressive palming.
“How bad do you want my mouth on you? Licking your pussy and sliding my fingers inside your pussy?”
Willow’s moan bubbled out of her as her body shivered hard with a small orgasm. She released a soft cry as the pulses swept through her.
Breathing hard, her throat hoarse she said, “Please do it, please.”
Lyonis gave a rough curse then gripped her thong and tore it from her body. Willow never heard the cloth rip, only heard the choir of hallelujah’s singing in her head.
He cupped her sex again, skin to skin. She wet his hand in an instant. Willow couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore as his fingers slipped over her wet sex, petting.
“More.”
He laughed, but the sound was choked. He listened though because he slipped his fingers around her wet clit and rubbed her in soft circles. Willow moans couldn’t be stopped. He robbed her of breath with his touch, brought forth such pleasure that her hips raised off the bed and strained towards him.
Shivers wracked through her as her core clenched with a rising explosion. But just as she was about to fly apart he removed his hand slipped two fingers inside her. Willow panted, shook her head side to side as he thrust lazily inside her.
“Please,” she begged.
He didn’t answer her, but used his free hand to shape a breast, and pinch her hard nipple. It felt amazing, made her shiver and her skin tighten like a bowstring, but it didn’t bring any release. Willow groaned with frustration and reached up to yank on his hair.
With a growl, he slapped her hand away and slid between her legs. Oh, yes! Willow panted and thrust her hips at his face. Lyonis didn’t linger, he closed his lips around hers and sucked her into his mouth. The slippery sensation of wet tongue on wet sex drove her wild. She made sound she never made before as he licked through her folds and found her clit.
The fingers inside her pumped faster as his tongue worked magic flicks over her. Willow didn’t last; didn’t have a chance to. Her skin burned hot until she exploded into a million little pieces. Blind, crying, her body seized tight around his fingers, jerked against his mouth as her orgasm tore from her body.
He petted her back down to earth. His tongue licking up her cream and tasting her with languid strokes. His fingers plunged in once more than retreated to pet her thigh.
“Lyonis.” Her voice was a mere croak over the scratchiness in her throat. She felt lighter than air as if she were floating above the bed instead of laying on it. Thoughts refused to form; words failed her as she laid there. Finally he pulled back, kissed her breast once then laid beside her.
It was minutes before she could open her eyes. The lines around his eyes were even more pronounced, his erection straining and dark with color from his unspent passion.
She reached for him. “Let me.” But again he slapped her hands away, and gave her a hard kiss.
“Go to sleep, Willow. We’ll finish this later.”
Willow wanted to protest, the sight of his swollen cock teased her senses, but then a yawn left her and she gave into his wishes.
Curling up beside him, she wrapped herself around him. Sleep enveloped her with happy, warm arms and before it consumed her, she whispered something that would change everything.
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I’ll be your mate.”
And then she fell into the deepest sleep of her life.
Chapter 22
Draven climbed out of the shower and pulled on his clothes. It had only been a few days since he’d had sex with Lucinda, but it felt like months. What was worse he didn’t know if it was because he missed being with her so much or because he was afraid of what would happen next.
He tried telling himself that it wasn’t uncommon for frimars to sleep with their host. What they did wasn’t unusual, but for him it was. She wasn’t just anyone to him. She wasn’t some woman he could use and set away until he was ready again. Was he happy about that? Not in the least. But he wasn’t going to lie to himself. He wanted her still. If anything, being with her made her consume his thoughts more.
He wanted to take her in every position possible, taste her between her legs until she screamed his name, and feel her wet mouth sink down his cock. God he was a mess.
He wiped away the fog on the mirror to see his blurry reflection. Half-demon, his mind whispered. But she didn’t care about that. She didn’t care about where he came from. She said she wasn’t like Charlotte, maybe she wasn’t. What if she wasn’t?
Draven looked away from his shadowed reflection and scrubbed a hand down his face. He’d known Lucinda since she was taken in as Tyrian’s frimar hundreds of years ago. For the longest time, as in four hundred years, she never said much to him. Or anyone else for that matter. She mostly kept to her room, but every now and then she’d come out and wander the hallways. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t watch her sometimes. It was the way she moved. She seemed to float gracefully wherever she went. It had to be those damn gowns she wore, no one could move like that.
Draven tied his wet hair back from his face. Closing his eyes, he took a moment to prepare himself. She was waiting out there for him and he still didn’t know what to say or what to do.
He took her twice that night, right there against that door he had to leave through every day. If that wasn’t a hell of a reminder then he didn’t know what was.
He opened the door and went into the bedroom. The sight of her took his breath away. She sat in an ugly plaid chair in the corner of the room. A single lamp lit the room in a soft, hazy glow. Her feet were pulled up under her nightgown which covered her from head to foot. The gown was a white flimsy thing with wide straps over her shoulders. He knew if she stood the gown would cover her feet and was probably too wide for her; it’d billow around her and yet he’d never seen anything sexier. There must surely be something wrong with him, because the sight of her in that gown had his cock swelling.
She looked up at him with a smile on her face. “I hope you had a nice shower.” He nodded once then went to sit at a chair by the fireplace, anything so he wouldn’t have to look at her. No sooner than he sat did he hear soft footsteps trailing after him.
He stiffened as she took a seat at his feet. She entranced him; did she know that? The fire glowed around her, showing the bare skin under that gown. She wore nothing underneath. The outline of her breasts, her nipples, the smooth glide of her hip to thigh were as clear as if she was naked before him. Draven took a deep breath and made his eyes meet hers.
Shit, that wasn’t any better. Her eyes were excited, lips pulled into a sweet smile. Even her hair looked nice. It rested in an intricate braid over one shoulder, nearly falling to her curvy waist. He had yet to touch that thick hair, to feel it in his hands, or feel it draped over his thighs. Draven’s balls pulled tight and he wished she’d look away so he could adjust himself.
“What?” he said gruffly. Her smile changed into one that said she knew what he was thinking. He scowled down at her. If that little wench knew what he was thinking then she shouldn’t have worn that damn gown that he could shred with his pinky.