The Darkest Seduction lotu-10

by Gena Showalter

  “Not there,” she instructed. “You’re almost there. Please, just a little closer and you’ll be there.” The words gasped from her. Her hips undulated as she sought to place his tongue directly on that swollen clitoris.

  And she thought she was bad at kissing and sex? Silly female.

  He penetrated her core, sinking his tongue inside her, fast, faster, glorying as she panted his name, as her essence covered his face, as he swallowed her down, as her nails sank into his scalp, as her hips twirled and met his thrusts, as she arched into him, retreated, arched again.

  “Paris! Yes, yes. There!”

  When he felt her tensing, edging ever closer to release, he fit his lips over her clit and sucked, hard, at the same time driving two, then three, fingers deep, so deep. He scissored them, shifting depth and width in a constant stream of motion, and just when she reached the pinnacle of climax, he backed off a fraction, slowing his movements. Her moans tapered into incoherent mumblings, her hips following him, circling, trying to lure him back within those satiny walls.

  “Paris! Finish me.”

  “I want to make you feel good.”

  “I do, promise.”

  “But you want more.”

  “Yes. Please!”

  “Very well.” A ruthless plunge of his fingers, scissoring over and over, his tongue flicking over that swelling bud, and she climaxed with violent force, her inner walls clenching on him. A scream tore from her, so loud and bracing it cracked her vocals. He loved it, reveled in the knowledge that he had brought her to this point.

  His desperation grew critical, and he had to remove his fingers from her and clamp onto her thighs to hold himself steady, to stop himself from ripping at his zipper and slamming home.

  He stayed like that until she calmed. Finally her shoulders sagged, and her head lolled forward. Those midnight wings trembled, glimmering like polished ebony. She was panting shallowly, her bottom lip cut from where she’d bitten down.

  When her slumberous gaze met his, he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked at her arousal. He couldn’t get enough of her, didn’t think he would ever get enough.

  Her pupils expanded, consuming those hazel irises and leaving only black. Black velvet, smooth and endless. He could lose himself and never care to be found.

  “Take off your clothes,” she whispered. “Please. Let me have you now.”

  He grabbed the collar of his shirt and tugged, ducking to free his head from the material’s confinement. Her hands found his pecs a second later, her palms pressing into his nipples.

  “Your heart is racing,” she said, clearly awed by that fact.

  In that moment, his heart beat for her. Only her. He’d never craved a female this much. And that she knew what he was, what he’d done, and wanted him anyway… He moved in and fit his mouth around one of her rosy little nipples, sucking hard then easing the sting with a flick of his tongue. He turned his head and did the same to the other, leaving his mark on them both. Branding her, so that when she saw herself in a mirror she would know she belonged to someone else. To him, only him.

  “Let me see the rest of you,” she said.

  He shook his head.

  “Paris…”

  Another shake. To remove his pants, he would have to stop touching her, and he didn’t want to stop touching her. Couldn’t conceive a good enough reason to ever stop.

  “Please. I need to see you.”

  Trembling, he pressed his forehead between her breasts. He swallowed, found his voice. “You never have to beg. Not with me. Whatever you want, I will give you.” Always before, he’d taken from his partners. With her, he wanted to give anything, everything. “But if I strip, I will lose control. Let me savor you, Sienna.”

  “Control is overrated. I want you, however I can get you.”

  Such beautiful words. “I wish we were at my home, and in my bed, and I had you splayed on my pillows. You deserve better than a dirty cave.”

  She cupped his cheeks and forced his eyes to meet hers. “After everything I’ve done to you, how can you say that?”

  He didn’t remind her that this moment had no past. He couldn’t. The past flooded him, too. “Sienna, you ran to me when you were in trouble, when Cronus first enslaved you. Before that, you slept with me to strengthen me despite the fact that you were horrified by our potential audience, despite the fact that I was your greatest enemy. Before that, you were involved in a war and batting for your team, same as me. You did nothing I wouldn’t have done, had the situation been reversed.”

  Tears filled her eyes, splashed down her cheeks.

  “None of that. Not here, not now.” He captured them with his tongue, kissing them away. Now the reminder came. “Just a man and a woman, remember?”

  “I just…I always get emotional after mind-shattering orgasms,” she said with a dry undertone, and he laughed. “Or I must, considering that was my first.”

  “Your other man didn’t—”

  Her smile was silky, wanton. “What other man?”

  Good girl. He chuckled, surprising himself. Genuine humor between lovers wasn’t something he’d ever experienced before her.

  “I want you anywhere I can get you.” Nibbling on her bottom lip, she reached down and pushed at his zipper. Her fingertips brushed the weeping tip of his cock, which stretched far past the waist of his pants. “Mmm, no underwear.”

  “I was…hopeful.”

  Now she was the one to chuckle.

  He gripped her under the ass and urged her forward, even as he leaned back on his haunches. She slid from the rocky foundation, held up only by his hands. He positioned her core just over his erection. So hot, so wet, but he didn’t push inside. Not yet.

  “Kiss me,” he commanded, even as Sex got his purr on. Guess the demon was so excited, he couldn’t stay quiet a moment longer. At least he wasn’t talking. “Like before. Own me with your mouth.”

  “My pleasure.” A shiver rocked her as she meshed their lips without any hesitation, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and feeding him all that she was. Owning him, just as he’d wanted.

  “Can’t hold back,” he said. All thoughts of savoring her, this moment, fled. They had here and now, and not much else. He had to know the rest of her, had to join them. “Must be in you. Need to be in you.”

  “Yes. You’ll own me.”

  He thrust deep and sure, filling her. They moaned in unison. Paris, Sienna, Sex. It was like coming home after a year in the desert, when you were so thirsty, so hungry, you felt as if you were drinking and eating for the first time. As if you were alive for the first time. His senses awoke, aware of her every need, attuned to her every nuance.

  This was what he’d yearned for so desperately. Not just a communion with her body, but with her mind. Her soul, their every breath intertwined.

  Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

  She was tight, tighter than a fist, and he knew he stretched her. Knew he was too big for such a slender body, but that didn’t stop him from moving her up and down, up and down from the root of his shaft to the very tip. She was so wet, the glide was smooth. Her nipples rasped at his chest, creating the most delicious friction. Friction that lanced spears of pleasure throughout his entire body.

  He was utterly consumed by her. She was in his mouth, pressed against him, her weight sliding her down on him…down…all the way…her legs squeezing at his, her hands on his back, her nails scraping and clawing at him. Even the ends of her hair acted as a stimulant, dancing over his skin, tickling.

  Paris kneaded his hands up her spine and stopped between her wings. Occasionally over the years, he’d had to massage his friend Aeron to work out the stiffness from battle. So he knew just how sensitive the slits in these wings could be. Keeping in mind that she had to be sore, he kneaded gently, rolling the muscles and tendons under his fingers.

  A hoarse cry left her. “Paris! Oh, Paris!”

  His name on her lips did it for him, totally, completely. He rarely ever told his partne
rs his name, not wanting to hear them say it and increase his shame. But now, with Sienna, he was once again undone.

  He pounded into her, harder, so damn hard their teeth banged together when she dove in for another kiss. Their tongues sparred with the same strength, the same intensity. His testicles were drawing up, the skin around them tightening. White-hot waves of pleasure and strength swam at the base of his spine, ready to burst through him, to devour him and brand her.

  So badly he wanted to come, but he wouldn’t, not until she’d exploded on him. Her pleasure came first, now and always.

  He reached between their bodies and circled his thumb against her clitoris. And, oh, sweet heaven, that’s all she’d needed. Another scream that cracked her vocals echoed around him, her inner walls milking him. He jetted inside her, pouring all of his desire, all of his need and passion straight into her core. Roaring, roaring, so caught up in the incredible sensations, uncaring about anything else.

  And when, an eternity later, she collapsed against his chest, her legs lax against his, he continued to hold her, unwilling to let go. Just then, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to let go.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  HE’D BEEN ABUSED, his skin like pretty pink ribbons curling from a Christmas box.

  Violated in the worst ways.

  But Kane never gave the female minions what they wanted.

  He was ashamed that he couldn’t fight his way free, that his demon had somehow taken him over and held him down as surely as the chains shackling his wrists and ankles. He was a warrior, thousands of years old, with experience honed on the bloodiest of battlefields. This should be child’s play to him. He should have escaped long ago.

  More than any of that, however, he was humiliated by all kinds of other things he wasn’t ready to acknowledge or face. The things they’d done to him…

  Later. He would deal with it later. Maybe. Right now, all he could do was distance himself from what was happening to his body, as if it wasn’t actually his body enduring the abuse. As if someone else had teeth in his thigh, hands where no others had been.

  Drip, drip went his blood.

  Kane had been tortured before. Many times, in fact. This was just more of the same, he told himself. Yeah. Right.

  Disaster laughed, a cruel, happy sound echoing in his mind. If only that were the first time, but no. Disaster had laughed and laughed and laughed, a never-ending stream of amusement.

  Hate utterly consumed Kane, kept him conscious. Every time he felt himself slipping into darkness, he thought about the demon High Lord inside him. Despite his instinct to remain distanced, he wanted to know every deed done to him. One day, he would return the favor in kind—a thousandfold. His demon would suffer this way. His demon would die this way.

  Yes, one day.

  His gaze pulled from the blood-spattered cavern wall above him and slipped down his body. He was a raw slab of scarlet. Dripping…dripping… Were those his ribs? Yes, he thought hazily. They were, one of them even pointing in the wrong direction.

  One. Day.

  Distantly he heard the pound of…horse hooves? Maybe. Whatever it was caused the minions on top of him, under him, even those around him who were awaiting their turn, to scatter in the winds, leaving him atop the boulder, naked, still bleeding…still dripping. Crimson, such a lovely yet horrifying color. Life and death, bound together.

  He should be in tremendous pain, but there was nothing. Only a strange, welcome numbness.

  A horse’s whinny. Booted footsteps. He should care. Someone was here, looking at him, seeing him at his worst. He did care, but there was nothing he could do about it. No way to cover himself or hide what had been done to him. He wanted to kill this newcomer the same way he wanted to kill the minions and Disaster. Anything to wipe away all knowledge of this day. Forever.

  A shadow fell over him, then someone was leaning down and peering into his eyes. Dark hair, eyes of the cruelest blue. “I know you. You are Kane, keeper of Disaster. Had a bad day, have you?”

  Kane gathered enough strength to turn his head away. The action, small as it’d been, zapped every bit of that strength, leaving him cold, hollow. He had nothing left. Of course, the guy reached out and turned his head for him, forcing his attention to return.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Silence.

  The guy grinned, and it was not nice. “Once, I could not have paid a Lord of the Underworld to visit me here. Now you guys keep popping up for free. By the way, your friend Amun called me Red while he was down here. Well, he thought it. Boy doesn’t speak much, does he?” He gave a genuinely amused chuckle, and yet, there was bite to the sound. “Wish I’d picked up on that thought while he was in front of me, but then, I didn’t have these, a gift from Amun before he left.”

  Red held up two hands—and they weren’t attached to his body or any other. They were dark-skinned and held together by a strap of leather. A strap of leather he had wrapped around his neck, as if he were carrying boxing gloves. The insides of the hands had been scraped out, the flesh leathered.

  They were gloves now. Human gloves.

  Acid bubbled in Kane’s stomach. Amun had come down here to rescue Legion and in the process had been infected by hundreds of demon minions, evil becoming a slick oil over his skin. The only solution had been to send him back down here to release them.

  The gloves were the same mocha color as Amun’s skin, possessed the same lines.

  “What do you mean…gift?” Kane managed to work past his shredded throat. A throat scraped raw when the minions had stuffed things into his mouth. They hadn’t cared that he’d tried to bite them, and hadn’t tried to prevent him from doing so. They’d actually liked that. They had just— You aren’t thinking about this yet. You’ll become as crazy as Amun was.

  “I won the mitts in a poker game,” Red said, his tone casual. “You play? Wait. Don’t answer that. Let me learn your secrets with my new, favorite toy.” Grinning his not-nice grin, he stuffed his hands into the skin gloves and reached out.

  Contact.

  Those hands pressed against Kane’s temples, cool and tough. Red closed his eyes, his entire body jerking as if hooked to a car with a lot of stallions under the hood. A moment passed, the only sound that of his heavy breathing.

  Then another round of hoofbeats reverberated. Booted footsteps came next. A blond male with a similar toothy grin was leaning over Kane. “Whatta we got here? Another demon warrior?”

  “Looks like.” Red straightened, his blue gaze boring into Kane. “He’s quite the mess.”

  “Will he heal?”

  “Don’t know.” A shrug as if the answer wasn’t important either way, then, “The man beside me is my brother. Amun called him Black. I call him Asshole. You may use whichever you prefer.”

  “Let me use the hands,” Black said, rubbing his own with anticipation.

  “Hell, no.” A growl sprang from Red, an animalistic warning. “I just got them today, and this is my week to own them.”

  “I just want to borrow them for a minute.”

  “Please. You’ll keep them, claim it’s your turn already.”

  “Will not.”

  “Will, too.”

  I’m dreaming. I have to be dreaming. At the very least, hallucinating. Feral killers—and they were killers; they possessed the same hard edge as his friends—were not arguing like children.

  “Fine. Just tell me what you learned,” Black said, clearly sulking.

  “He was with the Dark, and recently.” Love and hate bathed Red’s tone. “The Dark thinks this one will take White from us. The pair of them were captured, brought here and marked for death. A cave-in separated them. He doesn’t know where the Dark is. The minions brought him here, tried to mate with him.”

  The Dark? Only person who thought Kane would take someone named White was William. And how did Red know—the hands, Kane realized. Those hands had belonged to Amun, then. Amun, the keeper of Secrets. Red had put those…g
loves on, had touched Kane and dug deep into his mind, ferreting out information. A handy little weapon to have. He should be enraged, but he was still too numb.

  Black popped his jaw. “White will have sensed your joy at finding a new demon, as did I. She will be here soon. We cannot allow her to meet this keeper.” Emerald eyes bore into Kane. “You will not take her from us.”

  I don’t want anything to do with her, dude.

  “Shall we kill him and be done with it?” Red asked as if he were contemplating what to serve for dinner.

  Black rubbed at the golden stubble on his jaw. “That would put him out of his misery. A good deed on our parts.”

  Kane wanted to help him with the answer. Hell, yeah, you should kill me. Because when this numbness wore off, when his body shrieked with the pain and his mind merged with his emotions, he was going to suffer. He was going to scream. He was going to rage.

  Vengeance, he told himself. He could not have vengeance if he was dead.

  “No, no killing,” Black finally decided. “Not until I’ve had my turn inside his head.”

  “Agreed.”

  Then they would kill him a week from now, after Black had his turn. Seven days. Kane didn’t know whether to laugh, thank them or just go ahead and start screaming and raging now.

  The two freed him from the chains, but he didn’t have the strength to move. He could only lie there, waiting, helpless to their whims.

  “Green is going to rip into us for saving him,” Red said. “You know how protective he is of White.”

  “True that.” Black hefted Kane over his shoulder, unmindful of his exposed rib cage. “She’s the only female he can tolerate.”

  The action disrupted some of the physical numbness, shooting sharp lances of pain through him. His mind began to fog, oxygen a faraway dream.

  “But by then,” Black continued, as Kane faded…faded… “I will have had my turn, so that is a moot point.”

  Kane didn’t hear Red’s reply. For him, it was finally, blessedly lights-out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  HIGH IN THE HEAVENS, Cronus stood at the foot of his bed, glaring down at his wife. She was still naked, still chained, but with two words, she had just changed the very foundation of their war.