Dark Skye (Immortals After Dark #15)(49)

—For the first time in my adult life, there was no plan, only impulses.— Thronos’s hand suddenly covered hers. His was hot, rough with callouses.

She glanced up at him. Thick dark hair tumbled over his forehead, almost reaching his vivid eyes. Their color was the same as the ore that had spilled from the mountain.

Molten silver lit by fire.

His shirt clung to his broad shoulders and brawny chest. His normally clenched jaw was relaxed, the grim line of his lips softened, allowing her a glimpse of his true mien: masculine, compelling, sigh-worthy.

Her heart thudded. Irresistible warlord.

His face was flushed with excitement, as if he’d just discovered flirting.

Oh, wait. He probably had.

—What would you have allowed me in the temple, Melanthe?—

She felt like she was punch-drunk, losing any inhibitions she might have had with this male. By the way he stared at her eyes, she knew they were metallic, colored with her desire. —I honestly don’t know.—

He scowled when she pulled her hand away.

—If I based my decision on physical attraction alone, then . . . — She turned her hand palm up and parted her fingers for his.

A breath left him. His hand shot to hers, fingers entwining.

They fit . . . perfectly.

—You would have received me? Parted your thighs for me?— He pressed the heel of his palm into hers, tightening his grip so sensually.

She bit her bottom lip. —It’s not based just on physical attraction, is it?— How could the mere contact of their hands make her this aroused? Her nipples stiffened, her sex growing wet.

Averting her gaze from his, she turned toward the couple. The Volar cast his demoness a look of open adoration. Gripping her breasts, he bucked his hips, bouncing the thrilled female.

Did Thronos realize he’d begun rubbing the palm of his hand against Lanthe’s in time with the Volar’s thrusts? Their palms were hot with friction, and Thronos’s every movement sent pleasure rippling through her body.

She exhaled a tremulous breath. Could he make her come like this? A completely new meaning for the term hand job. . . .

She would catch him staring at her as she watched; then she’d gaze up at him as his flickering eyes took in the scene. Since they were communicating telepathically, it was easy to slip into his thoughts.

He was reluctantly enjoying this spying because she obviously did, but also because it was a wicked secret between them—something they were doing together. He wanted more secrets between them. She hid a grin when she caught another of his thoughts. He was wondering how much more his swollen shaft could pain him: There has to be a limit.

Oh, there was! Would they discover it together?

When the demoness took the Volar’s horns in hand, Thronos sounded like he’d stifled a groan. —You did that to me earlier.—

—Would you like me to do it again?—

Hesitation. Then: —I can’t lie. I’d want that very much. Your soft palms on me, handling me.—

Even out of the corner of her eye, she saw his engorged member pulse in his breeches. Her sex clenched in reaction.

When the Volar ripped down the demoness’s peasant blouse to suckle a breast, Lanthe’s lids went heavy, her own breasts swelling in the molded cups of her top.

Thronos moved his hand on hers faster. —I would do that to you at every opportunity. I’d kill to do it now.—

She turned to him, found his spellbinding eyes filled with promise. Somehow he was beguiling her. The virgin was seducing the seductress!

If he had this power over her and made a move to claim her, how could she resist him? During this time, that could spell disaster!

Pregnant with Thronos Talos’s babe? The idea was too insane even to contemplate.

When the demoness cried out, she and Thronos both turned to the couple.

The Volar had positioned his female on her hands and knees, lifting her skirts. He’d taken her tenderly for as long as he’d been able to, but now his demon nature was clearly at the fore. With one animalistic shove, he entered her from behind, eliciting a lusty moan. After each thrust, he used his wings to draw his body back so he could plunge forward again. And again.

—I could take you thus.—

She barely bit back a whimper. —If you ever looked at me like he looks at her, I’d consider it.—

Though the two below were groaning and moaning in abandon, their pace hitting its crescendo, Lanthe faced Thronos.

She felt light-headed with arousal, desiring him more than she’d ever thought possible.

—I’ve got to kiss you, Melanthe.—

Irresistible. Was she nodding?

At least here, they couldn’t do anything more than kiss. Things couldn’t get out of hand.

Our first real kiss. His lips were inches from hers. . . .

A yell in Demonish sounded. She gasped. A pair of armored sentries had spotted them.





TWENTY-THREE


Come on!” Thronos snatched Melanthe into his arms, charging toward the rock bridge and the exit he’d scented.

“My sword!” She was reaching back for it.

“No time,” he snapped as he ran, bursting outside. Was this a continuation of the same mountainside path they’d hidden upon earlier? With more scavenging dragons? Can’t take to the air till I’m sure.