The Nymph King (Atlantis #3)(66)

It was too astonishing to believe and yet, it was everything she'd ever wanted to hear. People just didn't say things like that to her. Tears stung her eyes, and she scrubbed them away. She'd always prided herself on her independence, on her lack of need for another's approval. But until this moment, she hadn't realized how incredible approval could actually be. How powerful it could make her feel.

I have to be cold, she reminded herself - how many times would she be forced to issue the reminder to herself? I have to be heartless. But as her gaze slid over Valerian, she couldn't force herself to rebuke him.

He was poised above her, his big, hard body illuminated by a golden glow of light. Muscles bunched, strength and arousal exuded from him in mouthwatering waves. His stomach was ripped and hard. His penis stretched toward her center, so thick, so hard, reaching for her. The heavy weight of his testicles was surrounded by a sprinkling of golden hair.

The sight of him, this god of beauty and sex, made her breathless. "You - " she cleared her throat " - aren't bad-looking, either," she said. She'd never given a man a compliment before; she always shoved them out of her life as quickly as they entered.

His lips twitched. "I am glad you do not find me ugly, for you are everything I've ever needed."

Inch by agonizing inch, he lowered his head. A gasp of anticipation caught in her windpipe. His mouth closed over her nipple, surrounding it with moist heat. When his tongue flicked back and forth against the pearled bud, her hand tangled in his hair, holding his head in place. He kneaded her other breast with his hand, and the double sensation had her hips writhing.

"Did I not promise you it would feel terrible?"

"Awful, just awful. Don't stop." Wait. She'd meant to tell him to stop. Things were getting out of hand.

"You make me feel feverish, as if my very life depends on you." He sucked hard, and she groaned at the pleasure/pain of it, then he licked away the sting and she moaned at the heady bliss. "When a nymph makes love, he becomes completely absorbed in the act, ferocious and bestial. Nothing else matters except his woman."

Need him the way he seems to need you, she thought, yearning, and something cracked inside her. Something crumbled. The last vestiges of her resistance? Fear? Doubt? They were suddenly gone, replaced by a need to know him, all of him. In that moment he became more important to her than breathing.

Growling, she wrapped her legs around his waist, locked her ankles and jerked him on top of her. All of his weight - blissful. She savored, reveled in the exquisite press of him. Basked in her first true taste of capitulation. No more denying her needs, no more ignoring her secret wants.

"Shaye?" he said, his voice hoarse. He closed his eyes in sweet surrender, his expression entranced, shocked, awed.

"Valerian."

He nipped at her collarbone, licked up and down her neck. His hand worked at the waist of her pants. His fingers glided past them, under her panties, and through her fine tuft of pubic hair.

She nearly screamed as she arched her hips to urge him further.

"Most women think this is the most pleasure-receptive place on their bodies." His fingers pinched her clitoris lightly. He was sweating, trying to go slowly when she wanted him fast.

With that one touch, she almost reached the gates of paradise. So close to climax... so close... "They'd be right," she managed on a pant.

"No, they are wrong." He slid a finger through her damp folds and into the very heat of her. "Small," he said, strained. "Tight. Wonderful."

Had she thought she'd neared paradise before? Not even close. Her feminine walls clamped around him, holding him captive. In and out he moved. Slowly. Sheer torture. She gasped and gasped and gasped.

"Some women think this rhythm is the cause of their desire."

"Are they... wrong, too?" Holy hell, she was on fire. Her cells were traveling through her bloodstream at full speed, scorching everything in their path.

"Oh, yes. They are wrong."

He continued sliding those fingers into her, and her stomach coiled, tensed; her leg muscles quivered around him. Orgasm teetered on the sweet brink of arrival. "Valerian," she beseeched.

"Oh, how I like my name on your lips." His thumb brushed her clitoris.

Her head thrashed from side to side. She burned, so hot, nearing explosion. "Show me the most pleasure-receptive place on a woman's body." She had to come. Had to... would die... soon...

"For a kiss," he said, wanting to bargain even now. "I'll give you the world for a single kiss."

Without hesitation, she meshed her lips into his. The moment his tongue collided with hers, his taste filled her mouth. The exquisite sensations between her legs intensified. She unlocked her ankles, letting her knees fall apart and onto the bed, spreading her wide open for whatever he might do.

Lost in passion, that was Shaye. She was exactly what she'd feared: a slave to it, desperate for it. But she didn't care. The kiss was hard and hot and only became harder and hotter. Tongues battled, teeth clashed. Valerian's fingers continued to pump her, as frantic and insatiable as the kiss.

But then, suddenly, he stopped. Stopped the kiss, stopped the motion of his fingers. Her body throbbed, and a sob nearly burst from her lips.

"What are you doing?" she moaned. She tangled her hands in his hair and tried to force his mouth back to hers. Finally she'd allowed herself to enjoy a man, and he stopped?