The Darkest Kiss (Lords of the Underworld #2)(77)

Her fingers slid over the head of his penis with each upward slide, squeezing and teasing. "Anya," he panted.

"Mmm, I see what you mean about the name thing." As she spoke, her other hand pulled at his testicles. "I like it. Say mine again."

"Anya, I'm going to...going to..."

"Do it. Come for me. I want to see."

His hips lifted. "Don't stop. Don't stop."

"I won't. Give me," she purred. Her hand went so far down on his shaft, he couldn't hold the pleasure back a moment more.

He tensed, hot seed shooting from his shaft and onto the ropes of his stomach. He roared and roared and roared. "Anya!"

"More." Her hand continued to ride him. "Everything. Every drop."

His muscles were tensing, relaxing, tensing, relaxing. His hips were as far off the bed as possible, his heels digging into the mattress. He would have thought it impossible, but he spurted again, his mind shooting into a winking black hole that sucked him under with wave after wave of pleasure.

"Good, so good," she praised.

Finally spent, he collapsed. She cleaned him off with a towel before crawling up his body and settling into his side. He wound his arms around her, holding her captive. Ask her about the key.

No. Not now.

A lifetime is more important than a single moment.

True. He opened his mouth to demand she tell him about the key, but the words refused to form as she snuggled closer, closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.

No, nothing is more important than this moment. A short while later he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

NOT EVEN A DAY HAS PASSED, and I've already fallen into bed with him, Anya thought, burrowing deeper into Lucien's body while he slept.

She'd tried to resist, tried to keep him at a distance. But he'd just been so damned passionate, possessive and irresistible. His jealousy toward William...Gods, she could have had an orgasm just watching Lucien struggle with it.

She'd tried to pretend Lucien meant nothing to her, saying horrible things she'd had to rip out of her mouth just in case Cronus the Voyeur had been watching, but she'd been unable to walk away when Lucien told her to choose her place of pleasure.

After what had happened in this bed, she no longer knew what to do about Cronus or how to throw him off the scent of her true desire for Lucien. There'd be no denying it now. Part of her was glad. She couldn't hurt Lucien again, she just couldn't. Over the past week he had somehow become important to her - someone to cherish.

Lucien stirred in her arms, grumbling, before he bolted upright and frowned.

She frowned back. "What's wrong?"

"I'm being summoned," he said groggily.

He didn't wait for her response; he simply disappeared. Panic infused her as half an hour dragged by and he failed to return. Had souls summoned him or had Cronus? Should she go looking for him? Where the hell should she even start -

Suddenly Lucien appeared, healthy and whole, and curled beside her. His delicious heat surrounded her as he closed his eyes and sighed. "Foolish souls," he muttered. He didn't sound groggy anymore; he sounded sorrowful. A bit upset. "Why do they fight?"

Relieved, she relaxed against him and traced hearts all over his chest. The few times she'd watched him do his escort duties, he had finished in minutes. She'd wanted to know what had taken him so long tonight, and now she could guess. There'd been a lot of dead people. "Give me a little warning next time, and I'll go with you."

He opened his eyes to study her. "Why would you want to visit hell?"

So you won't have to bear the burden alone, she thought, but said only, "Could be fun."

"Not fun, I promise you." He traced a path up and down her arm, and she saw a cut healing on his wrist.

Had one of the spirits injured him? If so, they were lucky they were already dead. "Just take me. Okay? Please, please, please with a cherry on top of me. I want to go."

His palm settled over her breast, and he kissed the mark he'd left on her neck. "Take you. Mmm, I like the sound of that." His cock swelled and pressed against her clitoris.

Moaning, she opened her legs. "That's not what I meant, but I like where your head's at. Literally."

He chuckled and proceeded to "take her" over the edge of satisfaction. Only later did she realize he had never answered her.

PARIS SLOWLY CRACKED OPEN his eyelids. They were heavy, as if boulders held them down. His mouth was dry and stale, as if something had died inside it, and his skin was itchy. His ankles and wrists were encased in something cold and heavy.

What the hell was wrong with him? Where was he? He didn't remember agreeing to play bondage games with...whatever her name was.

"Good. You're finally awake."

He recognized that sweetly innocent voice, yet couldn't match it to a face. He frowned. White lights pulsed in front of him, and he blinked against them as his eyes watered. Last thing he remembered, he'd been kissing a woman. Her warm hazel gaze and brown hair finally flashed across his consciousness. Freckles, a plain face.

He'd been kissing this woman - what was her name? - and then he'd blacked out. Right?

"Paris," she said, her voice laced with steel now. Suddenly she was crouching in front of him.

The plain face he'd just envisioned was here in the flesh. He scrubbed a shaky hand over his own face, trying to orient himself further. Chains rattled, pulling at his arm. Had she...surely not. She didn't have the strength to take him down.