Archangel's Blade (Guild Hunter #4)(85)

Pushing upward into the merciless knowledge of that mouth, she was rewarded with his tongue swirling around her nipple, doing things to her that she hadn’t known were possible. Squeezing her thighs around his powerful body, she watched him lift his head. Lick his lips. And move to her neglected breast.

A kiss of teeth.

Not until you give me an unmistakable verbal invitation . . .

Chanting that promise in her mind, she rode out the spike of fear to drown in the rush of pleasure. “Don’t stop,” she said when he raised his head.

He leaned forward to press a kiss just below the hollow of her throat in answer, eyes of sin and darkness holding a look of satisfaction he made no attempt to hide. “Can you reach the honey?”

Twisting slightly, she grabbed the squeeze bottle of honey he’d put out with the fruit and handed it to him, knowing full well she was giving him a weapon with which to torment her further.

He flicked open the cap and, continuing to maintain the intimate eye contact, leaned forward to lick her nipple—just once, just enough to tantalize, to have her sucking in a breath—before upending the bottle and squeezing the sticky liquid not onto her body as she’d expected, but into his hand. He flicked the top closed after he was done, and gave it to her.

She managed to put it somewhere on the table without ever taking her eyes from him.

Dipping a single finger into the thick golden liquid, he lifted it to her lips to trace her with honey sweetness. She sucked his finger into her mouth, swirled her tongue around it as she’d done to his cock in the car. Those sexy eyes told her exactly what he wanted to do to her, but the heat was a slow-burning ember, Dmitri’s fuse apparently very long.

Lucky her.

“Keep doing that,” he murmured in a voice that was the most opulent fur over her skin, “and I’ll have you kneeling between my legs sucking on something much harder.”

She caught his finger between her teeth, a sensual punishment for words that might as well have come from some uncivilized barbarian. “Floor would be tough on the knees,” she said after releasing him, feeling hotly, gloriously female. “Next time I suck you, I want to be kneeling on a nice comfy sofa.”

“I live to grant your wishes.” Finger glistening from her mouth, he dipped it back in the honey and painted both her nipples with a precise, near-delicate touch, before beginning to create an intricate curving pattern on the slopes of her breasts. “Don’t move.”

It was pure torture to sit motionless as he caressed her with long, slow, sticky motions of his finger, his body big and hard and aroused beneath her, his erection so very close that she had fantasies of ripping off his pants and mounting him, his thick flesh pushing into her in rigid demand.

Dmitri’s eyes glittered as they met hers and she wondered what he saw. But all he said was, “Be a good girl, Honor, or I’ll have to punish you.”

A big, rough hand spanking her with erotic heat between her thighs, his fingers becoming slick with her need as she tugged against the bonds that tied her to the bed . . . and allowed her no room to defend herself.

She shuddered as the fantasy formed full-blown in her mind. “Maybe I”—she swallowed as he painted a line down to her navel, drawing a curving design a half inch above the low waistband of her jeans—“would enjoy your version of punishment.”

“Hmm.” He ran his finger back up. “It wouldn’t be punishment then, would it?” A sensual threat from a dangerous creature who knew how to play every facet of a woman’s body. “Now, come here.” Curving his hand around her body, he pressed his palm onto her back.

She gasped as the honey met her skin. “I’m all sticky.”

“Come make me sticky.”

Having no objection to pasting herself against his body, she crushed her breasts to his chest. “We’re going to make an awful mess.” She couldn’t help but claim his mouth, that beautiful, sexy mouth that was becoming her most sinful indulgence.

He let her take him, let her suck on his tongue and ride her body against his cock, but the material of her jeans was thick and she couldn’t feel him like she wanted. When his hands clenched on her thighs, it was a silent demand. Breaking the kiss, she separated their honey-coated bodies with a husky moan and rose to her feet to undo her belt, throw it to the side.

Then, as Dmitri watched, she flicked open the button at the waistband of her jeans and pushed down the zipper to reveal the front of her red panties. Urging her forward with his hands on her hips, Dmitri reached in to trace the tiny black bow, the intimate touch making her want to beg him to move that hand lower, rub harder. Except—“What if I—”

He kissed her navel, right above her panties, the kiss hot and wet.

Her toes curled, and the only reason she remained upright was because of his hold.

“Then,” he said, answering the question he hadn’t let her complete, “we try again. We try all night because I have every intention of taking what’s mine.”

She ran her fingers through the heavy black silk of his hair. “Possessive much?”

The smile he gave her was lethal in its impact. She’d known from the start that she was perilously vulnerable to him, but it was at that moment that she realized she could deny him nothing. It was a terrible weakness, but one that was fused so very deep into her psyche, she knew there was no fighting it, no ignoring it.