Darling Beast (Maiden Lane #7)(63)

Big. He was a big man.

She gasped, holding her legs wider, higher, trying to give him more room.

His eyes were closed, his upper lip hitched in a snarl, almost as if he were in pain.

Or great pleasure.

He thrust again, hard, and the entire length of his erection filled her.

She made a sound, restless, wanting.

He opened his eyes, looking down at her with concern. “Are you all right?”

She was stretched and so delightfully full of him. She twined her arms over his shoulders, digging her nails into his back. “Yes. Move.”

And he did.

He pulled nearly out and then pressed in again, over and over, each time a little faster, a little harder, until he was pounding into her.

His back was slick with sweat and her hands slid against him as her fingers moved restlessly over him. She trailed her nails down, scoring him, probably hurting him, and she no longer cared. She reached his buttocks, muscled and rounded, and grasped him, pulling him tightly into her.

He propped himself on his elbows and screwed his hips into hers, his cock deep in her. And as he did so, he watched her, a bead of sweat slipping down the side of his dear face. He pushed a lock of her hair off her face and brought his mouth crashing down on hers, open and wet and not entirely in control.

But his hips kept moving, plundering her, owning her, making her climb those heights again.

She groaned into his mouth, animal and wild, and felt the slip of his hard chest against her nipples.

This man.

Whatever his name.

This man.

She broke, shuddering nearly violently, throwing back her head, wailing her release as he slammed into her one more time and withdrew, suddenly and awfully.

She stared up at him, shocked, as cold air caressed her entrance and hot semen spilled on her belly.

He shook with his release, moaning as if in pain, and another splash hit her thigh. He slumped against her, a heavy weight, but she couldn’t push him away.

Instead she stroked his cooling back, staring at the ceiling and wondering what she’d just done.

APOLLO WOKE TO the feel of soft flesh under his palm. He stroked upward, cupping a silky breast in his hand, and smiled without opening his eyes.

This, this must be paradise.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and he realized for the first time that she was awake as well.

He opened his eyes. It was a small room that she and the other actress had been given, with only one bed that apparently they had been expected to share. A candle still guttered on the bedside table, throwing a flickering yellow light across her face.

He couldn’t read it. “I think it’s I who should be thanking you.”

“Not for that.” She turned her face to his suddenly, her mouth curled wryly. “Thank you for not spilling inside of me.”

A delicate tint colored her cheekbones.

He remembered Indio. Obviously some man had once not bothered to pull out at the crucial moment.

Apollo bent to kiss her shoulder and then took a corner of the sheet to tenderly wipe his seed off her belly and thighs. “May I stay?”

She sighed. “Yes, unless Moll returns before morning. I’d”—she licked her lips—“I’d like for you to stay.”

He smiled against her shoulder, ridiculously pleased.

Her hand reached up and he felt her fingers in his hair. “So they’re your family?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to delve into the matter now—his blue blood seemed to dismay her. “Yes.”

She moved as if she were looking at him. “Are they all you have left?”

His head was on her shoulder and he concentrated on tracing around one rose-tinted nipple. “Besides my sister, yes.”

“She knew you were in the garden?”

“Artemis?” He finally cocked his head back so he could see her expression. She had a tiny frown between her brows. “Yes. She brought me food and clothes and other things when she could. It’s how Trevillion found me.”

“Found you?”

He sighed, abandoning the nipple with regret. “Trevillion was looking for me. He knew Artemis was my sister and he followed her until she led him to me one day. The day you saw us fight.”

“But…” The frown had grown deeper. “Why was he looking for you in the first place?”

His jaw clenched as a sudden shiver shook his frame. The fire had died down in the grate and the room was drafty. He got up, padding to the fireplace.

“Apollo?”

He closed his eyes. She’d stopped calling him Caliban and he didn’t want that. Didn’t want his past to rise up between them again.

He glanced over his shoulder to see that she’d sat up and pulled the coverlet over her breasts like a barrier between them. There was no help for it, then—it always came back to that wretched night. The night his life had been destroyed.

“Trevillion was the soldier who arrested me for the murders.”

Chapter Fourteen

From that day forth Ariadne found more and more skeletons, and for each one she stopped and respectfully prayed and scattered dust. As she neared the center of the labyrinth, she wondered what horrors awaited her there. But when, on the seventh day, the tall stone walls revealed their heart, she discovered something entirely unexpected…

—From The Minotaur