The Centaur Queen (The Dark Queens #7)(36)

I gasped.

I cried out.

My back bowed when he finally plunged his tongue deep inside my mouth, demanding my tongue in return. I gave it to him. I gave him everything, every part of me. I raked my nails down his back sharply, causing him to hiss and kiss me even harder, hungrier. I gasped when his callused palm kneaded my left breast, stroking and gliding over my sensitive skin. I keened when his mouth broke from mine, missing the sweet taste of him until his warm mouth closed over my hard nipple and he tugged.

“Gods be merciful!” I sobbed. He’d not even penetrated me yet, and I felt the orgasm rising, felt myself drawing ever closer to the cliff’s edge of oblivion. The combination of his touch and his music drove me higher and higher to the peak of something dangerously alluring and terribly frightening.

“Oh, Tymanon. My Tymanon,” he murmured huskily, sweetly.

I hooked my legs tight around his middle, using the strength of my thighs to shove him down into that spot I so desperately needed him to touch.

The first brush of velvet and steel between the swollen wetness of my desire sent me toppling. I cried out, clinging to his neck, jerking and twitching as I rode the wave of an orgasm the likes of which I’d believed to be myth before.

Swallowing my cries with his kiss, Petra plunged deep inside me, drawing out my own pleasure even more. Blackness consumed my mind. Pleasure so full and overwhelming lit up my senses, and I felt scalded by it.

Sharp bursts of growls came from his chest, the sound rolling and terribly, terribly exciting. Shaking through my pleasure, I looked at him, astonished at the tight control he seemed to be keeping on himself. When he looked at me, I blinked. His eyes were no longer green, but now glowed with something that looked like flame.

“Petra?” I gasped, feeling hot and cold and scared but also dangerously thrilled by his sudden change.

“Kiss me, álogo,” he said in a guttural growl, and I was helpless to resist.

His kiss was hard, brutal, and darkly thrilling. Was he holding back from me? Was there more than this pleasure? But he was rocking hard within me, bringing me to the heights of pleasure once again, obliterating my thoughts. I was a creature of the now only.

Two more quick thrusts and Petra howled, joining me in that second little death.

*

We lay wrapped in one another’s arms for several hours after that, touching and gliding our hands over one another, but not having sex again. The sun was mere hours away from rising. Soon we’d be in Gnósi proper. We should be resting, but I couldn’t turn off my mind.

I loved him.

Gods, I loved a satyr. I was in deep, deep trouble, and yet I couldn’t muster up an ounce of care. I was happy, content in a way I’d never known before. I knew I’d pleased him, and yet a part of me couldn’t help but wonder whether I’d measured up to his nymphs or whether he found me lacking.

I’d read that satyrs made intense, passionate love verging nearly on the violent. None of what had happened last night had been violent. In fact, it had been soft, and gentle, and infinitely tender.

“You have gone stiff in my arms, álogo. Where have you gone, my lovely mare?”

I sighed as his warm fingers brushed a lock of hair off my shoulders. He kissed my neck right at the spot where it met my collarbone, causing me to break out in a wash of goosebumps.

“Mm.” I threaded my foot between his legs, using my toes to caress his strong calf, loving the feel of his downy hairs. I was becoming positively addicted to my goat.

Oh, who was I kidding? I was obsessed. I wanted more, all of him. I wanted everything, and that thought scared me senseless.

He poked my waist, causing me to giggle and slap at his hand. “Stop that.”

I felt his smirk on my neck. “Then answer me, or I’ll tickle you ruthlessly.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” I mock gasped.

“Just try me, Ty.” He bit down on the vein at the side of my neck, causing me to hiss. His bite wasn’t hard, but it had been enough to let me know he was there.

Grasping my right breast, he squeezed a couple of times before saying, “I love your body, the taste of you, the feel of you, and these gorgeous heart-shaped freckles of yours. You’ve ruined me, female.”

I giggled, feeling stupidly giddy. I was glad I wasn’t the only one. I hadn’t known what to think after making love to Petra. Would this madness suddenly wear off, and I’d realize I’d been lusting after a satyr and desperately needed my head checked? But it was just the opposite. My lust was consuming me.

Biting my bottom lip, I shook my head. “I was just thinking, beloved.”

“Mm. I like to hear you say that. Thinking about what?”

Not wanting to tell him just how far gone on him I was, I said, “Myra.” Which was true. I had been thinking about his sister in a very abstract kind of way.

He leaned back, and I glanced over my shoulder, giggling at the confused dip of his brow.

“My sister? Here I am, fondling your breast and admitting my undying devotion to you, and you think of my sister?” He snorted and rolled over, tossing a hand over his eyes in dramatic fashion. “I should be offended.”

Chuckling, I rolled over too, following him like iron shavings to his magnet, needing to touch him in someway. Plucking a dandelion that bloomed beside his head, I traced it down the smooth, tight lines of his chest, causing him to suck in his breath sharply.