Fury on Fire (Devil's Rock #3)(56)

He continued to taste her, drowning his face in her. She should be mortified . . . if it didn’t feel so amazingly good. She started to shake and rock against his questing tongue. He settled deeper between her thighs, adjusting his hands under her ass and lifting her higher for him.

It was wicked the way he feasted on her. She screamed and cried out . . . and now she understood what he meant about making women scream. He hadn’t been lying. No woman could hold silent while he did this to her.

Her fingers tightened in his hair as he increased his mouth’s pressure, his tongue playing with her until she was senseless, tears leaking from her eyes as he launched her into another orgasm. She cried out, pushing into his mouth wantonly.

Then he added his hand to the mix. As he thrummed his tongue over her clit, he slid a finger inside her wet channel, pushing deep and hard, curling inward. He started a rhythm, pushing and pulling in and out of her body. She released a muffled shriek, convulsing all around him, coming apart yet again, her channel tightening around his finger.

He lifted himself up. She still shook in the aftereffects, clinging to his head. His gleaming eyes locked onto hers in the darkness.

She wasn’t the only one shaking. His hands trembled where they clutched her hips. And there was still his erection, hard as a rock against her sex. She shifted, bumping her swollen sex against him.

“North,” she pleaded. Her hand trailed down his chest, searching for him. He stopped her from touching him, hopping off her and landing on his feet outside of the bed.

“I told you this would happen my way. I’m not f*cking you.”

She stiffened. “What about you?” Was it so easy for him to turn away from her? She’d felt his erection. She knew he wanted her.

“I’ll survive.” Turning, he headed into her bathroom and shut the door behind him. Soon she heard water running.

She dropped back on the bed, tugging her tank down to her waist. She needed to find her shorts but her limbs felt like jelly.

He’d pleasured her, but a part of her still felt empty and dissatisfied . . . and hurt. It was that same part that wanted to follow him into the bathroom and tempt him into finishing this the way she wanted it to end. He gave it to every other girl. Why not her?

Was he not tempted? Was his control so great, so unbreakable? She wanted to please him and herself. She wanted to feel him thrusting inside of her. It was more than a physical ache. She frowned. And that, she realized, was the most dangerous thing of all.





TWENTY-ONE




This was not good.

He took the coldest shower he could tolerate. He didn’t shut off the water until his dick had gone limp. By the time he emerged she was asleep again. She hadn’t bothered to put her shorts back on and he got an unfettered view of her beautiful ass (which woke his dick back up) before he turned the bathroom light off.

He dared to get back in bed with her. He had promised to stay the night, after all.

North shifted uneasily as Faith slept beside him, her breathing slow and even. She rolled close and flung an arm over him. Fucking misery. He could feel the hammer of her heart against his side and all of him pulled tight as a wire about to pop free.

Not good. How he came to be in this position, this role of comfort giver, he couldn’t fathom. He didn’t do this.

In prison, after Knox and Reid left, he kept his head down. He never played hero. A guy would get himself killed at the Rock trying to be a hero. He’d learned to turn a blind eye. To look away and ignore the cries for help. He’d gotten really good at that—he’d killed his humanity to survive. And yet now here he was . . . rescuing women and giving comfort and solace. Pleasuring her but taking none for himself.

Oh, he’d enjoyed it. He could still taste her sweetness on his tongue. But his cock ached. His balls burned from lack of release.

What he should do was roll her over and do what he’d been fantasizing about since he first spotted her getting out of her car.

She wouldn’t resist. She was too vulnerable right now. And the way she had screamed and responded to him, he knew he aroused her. Traumatized or not, he could have her climaxing and clawing his back in no time.

Dawn tinged the sky, lightening the room as his conscience (what was left of it) battled against his willpower. He closed his eyes tightly, forcing himself not to look at that ass, at the * his mouth knew so well now. His cock wanted to know it, too.

He couldn’t take her. Not like this. There was some humanity left to him, after all, he supposed.

With a muffled curse, he climbed out of the bed, moving stealthily, careful not to look at her, not to wake her as he slipped from her bed.

“North?” Her voice sounded fuzzy and still half asleep.

He hesitated at her door before turning to face her.

She sat up, rubbing at one eye. He wished it was still dark so that he didn’t have to see her like this. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“It’s morning now.”

“Barely.”

“You asked me to stay the night. I did.”

She stiffened, dropping her hand. “I’m sorry it was such a chore for you.”

“That’s okay. You had a rough night. You needed someone with you.”

She nodded stiffly. He knew he’d made it sound like he didn’t want to be here with her, but that was for the best.