- The Darkest Passion
Hands seeking of their own accord, he kneaded her breasts. Fucking mistake. They were perfect, her nipples harder than he’d realized. Keep the conversation going. Pull those hands away. “I must be everything your kind despises.” After all, his evil deeds were etched over his body for the entire world to see.
“You’re both the goodness I know and the exhilaration I crave.” She wrapped her legs around him, closing any lingering hint of distance. “What’s not to like about that?”
Shit, shit, shit. Another perfect fit. “I’m not good.” Not compared to her. Not compared to anyone, really. If she knew half the things he’d done or half the things he would do, she would be running from him. “How can I be to someone like you? You’re an angel.” An angel who tempted him like no other.
“I’m fallen. Remember? And I’m a little tired of hearing you say my kind and someone like me. It’s irritating. And do you know how hard it is to irritate an angel? Even one of the fallen?” Her hands roved over his back, over the slits that hid his wings. She probed inside, found the delicate membranes. “I’m sorry if my chastisement hurts your feelings, but— No. I’m not sorry!” She caressed.
A roar of bliss parted his lips. He had to reach over his head and grab the headboard to keep himself from clawing or punching something, so drunk did the sudden influx of pleasure make him. Damned. He was damned. There would be no resisting now.
Sweat beaded over his skin, and his blood heated yet another degree. No one had ever… That was the first time anyone had… How had she known to do that?
“Again,” he commanded.
More, Wrath agreed.
Again Olivia’s fingertips grazed his hidden wings. Again he roared at the bliss, unable to catch his breath. With that first touch, his thoughts had splintered. With the second, they had aligned, an echo of his need. Finish.
More than a kiss? Hell, yes. He would give it to her.
More, more, more.
Olivia raised her head and flicked her tongue over one of his nipples. “Mmm, I’ve always wanted to do that.” She licked again. And again. But soon that wasn’t enough, and she nibbled on the hard little bud with her teeth.
Aeron let her bite him. Something he’d never allowed another woman to do. He was too lost to stop her, and part of him didn’t want to stop her. Part of him, like his demon, only wanted more. Hell, all of him did. Control be damned.
Her attentions turned to his other nipple. There was no licking this time, only the biting. He was surprised to find himself leaning into the sting, anticipating, eager. To his surprise, the action wasn’t a reminder of Wrath’s vengeance sprees, as he’d always assumed it would be. It wasn’t even a reminder of his first time with a woman, as he’d also assumed. A time he’d rather forget. It was a declaration of his partner’s intense, uncontrollable excitement.
And still he wanted harder. Faster.
He released the headboard and rolled once again, placing Olivia on top. She nipped her way down his stomach, her nails scraping at his skin, her raspy pants echoing in his ears. He gripped the hem of her shirt and jerked the material over her head, freeing those magnificent breasts. He’d only touched them before, the shirt a hated barrier, but now he saw nipples like frosted plums. Hungry, he was hungry. He shifted his gaze before he lifted her, devoured. Her stomach was beautifully soft.
Oh, yes, soft, he thought as he splayed his fingers on her warm skin. His tattooed hands were almost obscene on so delicate a woman, but he couldn’t force himself to pull away. Where’s your prized strength now, huh?
Gone, like his sense of control.
Her fingers wrapped around his and she stared down at the contrast they made. Innocence and wickedness.
“Beautiful,” she gasped.
She thought so?
“I’m going to get it pierced, I think,” she said, tracing a fingertip around his hand.
His gaze shot to her passion-glazed face. “Get what pierced?”
“No.” Unsoiled. A gorgeous jewel would sparkle against her skin and draw his eyes constantly. Make his mouth water. Make him want to tongue her there. Then move lower. Soiling. “You aren’t going to do that. You’re an angel.”
“Fallen.” Her grin was slow and wicked. “I thought we were done chatting. Especially since we were doing something I liked very, very much and I want to do it again. Tasting.” She scooted backward on his legs and licked at his navel, tongue swirling on some of his tattoos.
Groaning, Aeron relaxed on the mattress. That naughty tongue was hot, her teeth still sharp, but damn if he wasn’t already addicted to the feel of them. More. A plea from him this time. Maybe they all had been.
Until…her fingers worked at the button on his jeans and reality intruded. You’ll finish. He couldn’t allow it, he reminded himself. Too much was at stake.
Rational. Be rational. He grabbed her wrists to stop her. “What’re you doing?” Did that slurred tone belong to him?
“I want to see your—” she licked her lips, cheeks coloring again “—your penis.”
He nearly choked on his tongue. Unsoiled. Rational.
“Then I want to suck on it,” she added, a slight tremor to the words.
Dear…gods…he thought again. Someone needed to tell Lysander she was halfway soiled already—in the most delicious way—and it wouldn’t be Aeron’s fault if he completed the job. “You’re not doing that to me.”
Lookie there. His demon knew another word.
She traced one of those naughty fingertips up his stomach and around his nipple, her hand trembling just as her voice had. “But I want to. So badly.”
“You’re an angel,” he reminded them both for the thousandth time, shaking his head for emphasis. And he might be a killer, but he wasn’t a debaucher.
You could be. The demon?
Gods, he wanted to be.
“No,” he said, again for everyone’s benefit. His, Olivia’s and Wrath’s. Now go back to your corner, he shouted to the demon. You aren’t welcome here anymore. Even though Wrath had been on its best behavior.
“Argh! How many times do I have to tell you? I’ve fallen.”
“Yes, but I won’t be responsible for your ruin.”
Eyes narrowing, she slammed a fist into his chest. “Fine. As a confident, aggressive woman, I know I can find someone else. I wanted it to be you, but as I’ve learned the past few days, we don’t always get what we want. William flirted with me, I think, and it’s clear that he likes to have…you know. Sex.”
When she lifted from him, as if she truly meant to follow through with her threat—and perhaps she did, the determined little wildcat, despite the fact that she’d faltered on the word sex, proving she wasn’t quite as confident and aggressive as she wanted him to believe—a snarl of rage erupted from him and he grabbed her by the arm. He tossed her back onto the mattress.
William would not be touching her. Ever.
When she stopped bouncing, he covered her with the full measure of his weight. “Just because I won’t let you do things to me doesn’t mean I won’t do things to you. I’m already ruined.” As he spoke, he slid his hand up her thigh. Soft…warm…
Another claim from Wrath, but he couldn’t protest this time. Automatically her knees parted. Warm? No. Hot. He tunneled past her panties to the heart of her. She was perfect and wet, dripping. His thumb, shaking now, pressed into her sweet spot.
“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes. That’s so good…just what I’d imagined…” Her eyes closed and she dug her nails into his back.
Away from his wings, but even that was a stimulant to him. He meant to ease one finger inside her, but that gasp…her praise…her caress… His desire was once again spiraling to new heights, and he actually shoved inside her. Careful. She didn’t seem to mind, though. No, she seemed to enjoy.
“Yes.” A moan this time. Her knee rubbed against his hip. “More.”
Helpless but to obey—would it always be so with her?—he sank in a second finger. She writhed and thrashed and he thought she might even have drawn his blood. His cock wasn’t free, thank the gods, or in that moment, he would have pounded inside her.
Scratch that. His cock wasn’t free, curse the gods, or in that moment he would have pounded inside her.
Inside her. He wanted inside her so bad.
After this, after she erupted in his arms, screaming and begging and praising his name, he had to get rid of her. She caused too many problems, fogged up his common sense, distracted him.
Unsoiled, he reminded himself. Take her into town unsoiled.
Keep her, Wrath whined.
I told you to be quiet, he snapped. He didn’t need to war with his demon as well as with his own needs.
And why was Wrath so vocal? he wondered again. Over a female, no less, rather than someone’s punishment. Yes, he’d already figured out the demon liked what Olivia represented. Heaven. Odd though that was. But this insistence…
Was the demon more like him than he’d realized? Both liking and hating what they did, how they killed. He’d always assumed the demon enjoyed the blood-crazes—and the ensuing results. But what if Wrath had always been as helpless as Aeron? As desperate for absolution?
“Yes,” he gritted out, Olivia’s voice drawing him out of his head.
“You stilled,” she said through her panting. “I need more. Do continue, please.”
Reverting to her sense of propriety. Enchanting. But he didn’t want to hear her ask him for more; it only weakened his resolve. And he didn’t want to hear Wrath, either.
He silenced them the only way he could. He pressed his mouth into Olivia’s and kissed her.
He meant to gentle things, as he was used to, as he could handle, but she was having none of that and lifted to meet him, her tongue dancing over his, her teeth sliding against his.