River of Shadows (Underworld Gods #1)(69)

The room is dark now, the candles having been blown out, and yet I’m tempted to turn around, to see him approach.

As if sensing this, he says in a thick, rough voice, “Keep still.”

And so I do, my pulse racing so fast I think it might burst. I take in a deep shaking breath, my nerves in a frenzy, and close my eyes.

The sound of his boots on the floor is ominous as they get closer and closer, and then I feel the strength of his presence behind me. I know he’s standing at the foot of the bed.

I hear the buckle being undone.

I hear his breath get deeper.

I feel his eyes as they coast over my body, leaving licks of fire in their wake, heat that starts to gather between my legs.

I swallow hard, holding my breath. Every single muscle and nerve is waiting for his touch. Will it be hard? Will it be soft?

Will it be the touch that ends me?

A low growl comes from his chest and then he’s grabbing my hips with his gloves, the leather textured this time like roughed-up serpent scales. He yanks my ass up impatiently.

“That’s better,” he murmurs, his fingers digging into my flesh. He slowly brings his hands down beneath my ass, grabbing hold of my thighs and kneading them lightly. “Who is the last man to give you release?”

I frown, confused by his question. “Um. I-I don’t remember,” I say, my words shaking.

“Then it couldn’t have been very good,” he says, his fingers now slipping between my thighs, delicate at first.

Truth is, I probably could remember if I really thought about it, but it had been awhile and at the moment my brain is complete mush. I don’t think I could tell him my name right now. I’m too focused on those roughly textured fingers slowly sliding up and up and up…

He runs his finger gently along my cleft and my breath hitches. So we’re just going there. Okay.

“When I’m done with you, little bird, you’ll forget everyone you ever let inside you. You’ll forget every climax you’ve ever had. Every tongue that’s licked your body, every finger that’s touched your skin, every cock that’s fucked your cunt. After this, there will only be me.”

I gulp. Dear lord.

Death is a dirty-talker.

“I may not be able to feel you with my bare hands,” he goes on, voice getting huskier, “but I promise my tongue will know every single inch of your body. What it feels like, what it tastes like. What it sounds like when I make you moan. I bet it sounds like music.”

His finger runs all the way up the crack of my ass and I hear the leather of his gloves crease as he adjusts his grip, parting my thighs.

Every part of me is on fire with anticipation, my breath coming short and sharp, panting like a dog in heat. There’s a possibility I might pass out.

Then he moves behind me, a rustling sound, and he places something next to me on the bed. I open my eyes, finding myself face to face with a grinning skull.

His mask. Oh my god, he’s taken off his mask!

I have to look. I have to know what he looks like, if only for a second.

But before I can even chance it, he grabs my thighs, yanks me back toward him, and buries his face between my legs.

I gasp loudly, my whole body flinching from the intrusion, but his grip holds me in firmly place.

Oh my god!

His tongue assaults me, making hard passes over me before flicking my clit over and over, causing my nerves to start spinning like a pinwheel. His tongue is long, thick and strong, moving with deft precision, sliding over the exposed part of me like he’s a panther lapping up blood. I don’t know what I was expecting from the God of Death, but I didn’t think he’d so readily devour me. Then there’s the rough scratch of his facial hair against my sensitive skin, something I never imagined him having.

Death groans, the sound vibrating through me, almost making me come, then puts his lips in motion. They feel full and soft and they suck at me, his tongue lashing with so much ferocity that I’m thrust forward, but his hands are a vice and they hold me in place. It’s messy and it’s raw and there’s no part of me that he’s not consuming.

My body doesn’t know what to do at first. It’s caught up in my mind, which is trying to remind me that this is the God of Death, that I’m his prisoner, his captive, to use at his disposal. But then the thoughts and worries start to leave my mind and my body takes over. My hormones have been whipped up into a frenzy by Death’s relentless attack and I’m starting to ache inside with the need for release. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before, to have my wants and desires take such control of me.

With another rough groan he thrusts his tongue in deep and I’m clenching around him, wanting more, suddenly feeling insatiable and greedy and out of my mind. My hands make fists in the velvet blanket, as if I’m trying to hold on or hold back, I can’t really tell.

He raises his head, breathing hard, and starts playing with me with his rough fingers, rubbing soft wet circles around my clit. “You taste better than honey,” he murmurs. “Rich and sweet enough for my morning coffee.” He pauses before flicking me. “So fucking creamy.”

Oh, mercy.

My cheeks flush. My whole body feels like it’s on fire.

I swear I hear him smile. A couple of fingers thrust inside me and I gasp, moaning, gyrating my hips against him to get more purchase. The texture of his gloves is rough and soft at once and I feel it all as his fingers drag against my sensitive spots. The ache inside me intensifies, my skin growing tight and hot.