Dark Skye (Immortals After Dark #15)(79)

Did she mean . . . his heart?

He’d been confused before. Now? He didn’t know how he should react, what he should say.

She continued lower, sending his mind into turmoil. Her hair had begun to dry in silken curls around her face and shoulders. When the winds made locks dance over his skin, he could perceive each tendril.

Enchantress . . .

He felt like he was watching some kind of mystery being played out, something he’d known occurred—without any idea of the inner workings.

Hands shaking, he grasped her head, barely checking the urge to guide her down to his aching member.

Yet then she descended to . . . his thigh? He jerked in surprise when she pressed more loving kisses along the length of that scar.

As in the dream she’d described, he wanted more. He’d never thought she could convey affection with this act.

She kissed his damaged ankle and calf, sources of grueling pain for him. In the beginning, he’d wanted her to suffer guilt, to regret.

No longer.

There were a thousand things he wanted to tell her. “Melanthe . . .” But he fell silent when she moved to his erection, taking hold of him.

His shaft pulsated in her soft grip. Moisture glistened across the crown. Would she mind that? When she was about to kiss him there? To his way of thinking, it seemed almost impolite to her. He was shocked at how little dominion he had over his body. He was literally in her hands—

She daubed the hot bead with her tongue.

A dumbfounded breath escaped him. With a shudder, he gave her another drop.

Her lips curled, as if he’d pleased her. Not impolite? Erotic. She liked it. She used that bead to thumb the head in mind-numbing circles. “Does this make you feel good?”

“Lanthe, you know it does.” She was teasing him? Now?

He stared down at the seductive curve of her red lips. He wished he could read her mind.

Because he feared he was about to lose his.

She rubbed him until his head swam, lust firing inside him. His claws dug deep into his palms when visions arose . . .

Of thrusting into her mouth. Of lifting her by her hips and planting her on his throbbing shaft.

Of tossing her to the ground so he could cover her, shoving deep within her tight, wet sheath.

Not visions. Impulses. Gods help them if he lost control.

Suddenly he felt her tongue—against his sensitive sac. “Unh!” His knees fell wide, allowing her free rein to do as she would.

She gave a light suck to one of his testicles, then the other, nearly ending everything! He didn’t breathe as she rose up over his shaft.

With her hand wrapped around the base, she guided the head toward her mouth to run the tip across her red lips. Then came her moist little tongue to circle the flared head. He couldn’t stop an astonished grunt.

Yet then he frowned to feel pain sear over his arm, as if the skin was burning. When he glanced at it, there was nothing, soon forgotten.

She tongued the crown, darting flicks to the underside, making him growl her name. He’d barely recovered from that new delight when she closed her lips over him—with sublime suction.

“Gods almighty.” His hips shot up. Her mouth slid even farther down. . . .

The only thing that could make this better would be if she was straddling his own tongue at the same time.

When she glanced up then, she caught him licking his lips for more of her taste. Her brows drew together. Moaning around him, she took his length even more aggressively. Deeper.

Finally a deep he craved.

As his restraint deteriorated, he cupped her face to give shallow thrusts between her lips. He lifted one wing, using a flare to cup her ass. When he rubbed those supple curves, she shivered.

His heavy testicles tightened as his body prepared to release. No way he could hold back. “Don’t stop, Melanthe! I need more of this.” More of her shimmering eyes, her teasing lips. “Close, sweet. So close.” His head tipped back, eyes sliding shut.

Wait. She’d stopped? He faced her again.

She’d taken away that hot wet suction! “Melanthe?!”

She leaned forward to kiss his navel, leaving him racked with need and confusion. Yet then he felt her plump breasts pillowing each side of his erection. Desperate for the contact he’d lost, he rolled his hips. His shaft glided along her cleavage. “Good gods.”

Another rock of his hips, and he grew nigh once more. “I’ll release like this . . . between your perfect breasts . . .”

She tilted her head, gauging his expression. Then, with a sensual grin, she dragged her chest down his body to return to her kiss, adding the stimulation of her hand.

With her fist pumping the base of his dampened shaft, she sucked him with greedy, spine-tingling pulls.

“Ahhh!” Nothing could feel this good. Nothing, nothing . . . “I’m about to come!”

As she sucked and pumped, she cupped his testicles with her free hand, giving them an electrifying squeeze that brought him right over the edge.

Pleasure erupted. He threw back his head and roared—a sound that could never be contained.

Against her clever tongue, his length pulsed again and again, his back bowing in time.

She wrung every last shudder from him, forcing him to ride that pleasure . . . over and over. . . . A culmination so heart-stopping, it was almost fearsome.

He gave her only a drop or two of seed, but she hungrily drew on him for more. As if she’d been waiting forever to take him into her.