Hell Breaks Loose (Devil's Rock #2)(56)

Fuck that. Right now she wanted him and he wanted her. He wasn’t going to deprive himself anymore. He’d had eleven years of deprivation. It was time to feast. He would take her and her f*ck-me eyes and her warm sweet-smelling skin and have something to remember when he was back in hell.





Nineteen




Grace tensed when Reid paused to stare at her. She fought down the tide of lust that urged her to fling herself at him and beg him to keep doing all the crazy-hot things he was doing with his mouth and hands.

This guy’s hands and mouth were nothing short of magic.

But they’d started things before that got cut short, so she held her breath and waited, watching him, ready for this to end like all the other times. She took a deep breath, hoping that it helped to cool the maelstrom raging inside her.

She lowered a hand to grip the edge of the counter, prepared to slide down and touch the floor, but his hands went to her waist again. He pulled her in close. “Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded.

She blinked up at him. His bossy tone didn’t invite argument, but still she hesitated. A moment ago she was holding a knife to his throat, and then he had turned it on her—proving if he wanted to hurt her he could—and now she was shirtless with breasts that were aching and raw from his mouth and the scratch of his five o’clock shadow.

He yanked her legs up, urging her to lock them around his waist. “You’re thinking too much,” he growled, slanting his mouth over hers, his tongue diving inside her mouth. “Stop,” he hissed into her.

She locked her ankles around him, losing herself in the hot persuasion of his mouth, hardly even aware when he lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom. He followed her down on the bed.

She felt drunk, dizzy from the play of his mouth and tongue. She did exactly what he said. Easily. There was no thinking when he slid down her body, his teeth and tongue blazing a trail between her breasts, over her rib cage, and down her navel. His hands seized the waistband of her boxers and deftly slid them down her hips. This time he didn’t waste time with underwear. He took those off, too, in one swift yank.

Then he was there, his big shoulders wedged between her thighs, his hands spreading her wide for him.

“I’ve dreamed of this, too,” he breathed against her core.

She slid her fingers along his scalp. “You’ve been dreaming of me a lot, then. I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

He looked up at her, his hazel eyes gleaming hotly from where he crouched between her legs. “Since the moment I saw you I pretty much thought about a thousand dirty things I would like to do to you.”

Her breath caught. A thousand? And yet he had held back. Denying himself. Denying her. “Then we’ve been wasting a lot of time.”

He slowly grinned then, darkly and with wicked intent. She held her breath, bracing herself as he disappeared between her thighs. The first brush of his tongue against her pulled a soft sigh from her lips. Then he grew more aggressive, stroking her deep and hard with the velvet of his tongue.

She gripped his head with both hands, writhing and twisting under him. She cried out and muttered incoherent pleas. She was close. So close.

He lifted up, his green-gold eyes feral like a lion as he prowled up her body. “The next time you come it will be with me inside you.” Her heart stammered inside her chest as he uttered this.

He hopped off the bed. She sat up, bewildered, watching as he bounded to his bag on the chair. He returned quickly, assuring her he wasn’t gone for good—in case his avowal hadn’t convinced her of that already. Before rejoining her on the bed, he dropped his sweatpants.

She sat up higher, eager for another look at him. The first night she had seen him naked felt like a long time ago. Even though the image of him had imprinted itself on her retinas, the memory still did not do justice to this sight of him. He had a warrior’s body and it made everything inside her melt and turn to goo. Her sex throbbed, almost hurting in her need to be filled with him.

He slid right back in between her thighs, his own rock-solid thighs rubbing against hers. It was shocking for a moment, the sensation of a man against her. It had been too long. And never really a man. Never someone that looked like he was forged by some mythical god to fight epic wars. His hands found her everywhere, her breasts, her stomach and hips. Touching, stroking. She was bombarded with sensations, release rising up inside her again.

“I could touch you all night,” he growled as his hands slid under her, cupping her cheeks, lifting her like she was weightless underwater.

“Please,” she choked. “End it.”

There was a crinkle of wrapper and a sharp tear of foil. He had a condom. At least one of them was still living in reality and thinking. She hadn’t even thought that far. That’s how lost she was.

She propped up on her elbows, hungry to touch him. “Let me.”

He hesitated and then turned the condom over to her. It was purely selfish. She wanted to know him, feel him with her fingers before she took him into her body.

She positioned the condom over the tip of him and eased it down, rolling it over his length with shaking fingers. He was big and hard and it made her girl parts clench in anticipation.

Once he was fully encased, she closed her fingers over him. Wrapping him in her palm, she pumped several times, watching his face, enjoying the way the lines and hollows seemed to grow more stark, torment-ridden. The good kind of torment. The kind she knew so well at his hands and now she was able to inflict on him.