by Kresley Cole
He growled as he tongued her inside.
"Yes!" Her core tightened, her body readying. "Oh, gods, oh, gods! I'm going to come . . . come so hard."
He gave her clit a suck.
Her eyes shot wide. The world tilted until all she knew was his hot, hot mouth. She threw her head back and screamed.
In a frenzy, he shook his head between her legs, snarling against her.
Her sheath clenched, contractions seizing her again and again as he devoured her. She tightened her grip on him and moaned, "Abyssian." The tremors began to subside, but he kept kissing her.
Releasing his horns, she fell back on the table, arms thrown over her head. "My gods, demon . . ."
The king of hell sat at his dining table feasting on her, and she was tempted to let him continue. But she was more tempted to reciprocate. His wildness had called to hers. Now his hunger did.
Pleasure was rewriting her.
She sat up and pushed at his head; he continued to lick. She murmured his name. He wouldn't stop.
Before she got swept back up, she said, "It's--my--turn."
FORTY-THREE
As he lapped at her luscious orgasm, Calliope's voice carried as if from a distance.
Tasting her release was a baptism of fire. His demon instincts roared with fulfillment, yet his cock throbbed for relief.
When she pushed at his horns, he reluctantly drew back from his prize. How he kept from falling upon her again, he didn't know.
He'd pleasured his female well, and it showed. Her eyes were bright, her skin flushed. His chest bowed with pride even as his body pained him beyond measure.
She wanted to touch him, had vocalized her wish. He rose to stand before her.
Reaching for his shirt, she unfastened a button, then another. When she opened his shirt, his raised glyphs burned, reflecting in her hooded gaze.
His brows drew tight. "Don't know how long I can last. . . ." His cock was so swollen, she couldn't get the ties of his pants loose. He slashed them open.
"Thanks." She gave his pants a decisive yank, shoving them down his thighs. When his length sprang free above her lap, her eyes glittered as if with greed.
His lust-fogged mind couldn't quite wrap around this. She took her time staring, and he let her look her fill, his shaft jerking under her gaze.
Don't come! "I could go off just from your eyes upon me." Clenching his jaw, he willed himself back from the brink. When she grasped him, his hips bucked uncontrollably. Her fingers were so pale against his demon skin.
Her soft palm roamed downward to his heavy balls. He opened his stance for her, choking back yells as she fondled his aching testicles, tugging on them, hefting them.
So close . . . He could easily come from this, but he must know what she had planned! If he could last long enough for her to reveal her intention, then he would know what had been going on in that mysterious mind of hers. . . .
"You need to sit." She shoved against his chest, and he didn't resist, collapsing back into the chair, his shaft bobbing. He maneuvered until he'd freed his trapped wings behind him.
What will she do?
She hopped from the table, then knelt on the floor between his legs.
He froze, scared to spook her. Had she . . . had his mate been thinking about sucking him?
"I've fantasized about what your skin would taste like."
Gods almighty! Somehow he had the presence of mind to conjure a pillow under her knees.
She peered up at him with that soft look.
He was defenseless against it. "You look at me like that, and I grow as malleable as lava."
"I'll remember that." Her voice was throaty from her screams. Her gaze raked over him, from his balls to his face. "I'd heard females fought over you."
They used to. Until . . .
"I didn't see why before." Meeting his eyes, she said, "But now it's so clear to me."
He swallowed thickly. Lila . . .
Her attention dipped, then locked on his cock. The tip was wet, more moisture arising each time his shaft pulsed. She licked her lips for it.
Do--not--come. "I'm dreaming this. Have to be."
"What would I do in your dreams?"
He cradled her ethereal face. "You would feel comfortable and go at your own pace. You would--"
Her tongue flicked his sensitive crown.
"--keepdoingthat, keepfuckingdoingthat!"
She did, wrenching a growl from his chest. Too soon, she drew back. "You even taste like fire." She blew on the tip.
He shuddered with pain/pleasure.
She returned her mouth, enclosing the head with her lips, then began to dart her tongue.
It moved as quickly as the rest of her! "Lila," he gasped when a deluge of little licks covered the crown. "Your tongue is . . . like a vibration. . . ."
Pausing, she murmured, "That a bad thing?"
He grated, "Fuck. No." He drew his hands from her, gripping the chair. "Never felt . . . anything like it."
She grinned up at him; he gaped down at her. She set back in.
"Fuuuuuck." Her tongue made him twist. His instinct commanded him to thrust between those plump lips.
Her pink nails dug into his torso, reminding him to stay still. She was on fire, uninhibited. Lila was a gift. He could enjoy her innate passion for an eternity--if he didn't do anything to dampen it.
With enough fire, even rock will melt. His firebrand burned so hot she could make even his stony heart soften and beat again.
Abyssian had teased her, holding all the cards. Turnabout's a bitch. Now he was desperate to come, his every reaction giving her a toe-curling high.
When she licked the underside of his pierced shaft from the base to the crown, he bit out oaths. His mighty body quaked as she traced the slit of his cockhead with her tongue.
Her mouth against his heavy testicles stopped his breath. When she leaned down to nuzzle him there, unintelligible sounds left his lips.
Aside from power, she felt an overwhelming tenderness toward him, her husband.
This act would be between them alone.
He clutched the stone armrests, seeming determined not to touch her. "You don't know what you're doing to me!"
She had a good idea; his dick throbbed against her tongue. "Mmm. Your taste makes me crazy, demon." Those hints of salt . . . she couldn't get enough.
She fed on his raw reactions until her pussy ached. Needing to come again, she reached her free hand between her legs and rubbed her swollen clitoris. Her lids grew heavy.
"Fingering yourself? Now I know I'm . . . imagining all this." His intensity warred with his vulnerability.
She had to slow her fingers, holding off the orgasm that threatened at any second. She drew him deeper into her mouth. When she sucked and licked at the same time, she watched in delight as his eyes rolled back in his head.
Helpless against pleasure--against her--his knees fell wide in surrender.
Sian wanted this never to end, but couldn't withstand her kiss any longer. "About to come!"
She suckled him with greedy pulls, her lids fluttering. Her tongue lapped hungrily, her moans getting louder. Her arm twitched as she fingered herself.
"I-I'll try to keep still, beauty." As he fought not to buck his hips for more of the wet heat of her mouth, the stone in his grip started to crumble.
She took him deeper, drawing on his shaft till her cheeks hollowed.
Fuck, gods, FUCK! Each suck racked his body, a fresh torment.
She began to orgasm--and his shaft muffled her cries.
Done. "Defeated me, Lila. Coming. Coming. Coming! COMING!" He yelled so loud, the walls cracked. In his palms, the armrests disintegrated to sand.
Pulsations seized his cock over and over and over.
Pleasure rocked him. Ripped through him. Robbed him of all tension and concerns.
He floated while his mate still languidly kissed him. . . .
In time, he pulled her away, dragging her into his lap. With his legs sprawled
and his body limp, he pressed kisses to her hair.
His culmination of the godsdamned ages had just shattered everything he thought he knew about sex.
She sighed. "I take it I did okay on my first attempt. Wait till I practice."
"Little wife," he groaned, "if you get any better at that, I'm a dead demon."
FORTY-FOUR
Later that night, Lila and Abyssian lazed in bed. She lay within his wings, facing him. He threaded his fingers through her hair, his expression relaxed.
The sea breezes had picked up until she could hear the surf crashing. . . .
After their dining room encounter, Abyssian had traced her to the shower to rinse off wine. As he'd rubbed his callused palms over her, he'd said, "You can't be done after coming two times. A third will make you sleep better, and you'll be less likely to use me as your body pillow." One thing had led to another. And another.
The promise of a life with him was seductive. Life in the fey court had once been seductive as well. She'd been protected from the Morior, yet vulnerable to infighting royals. Now she was protected from other fey, yet vulnerable to the Morior.
She'd learned never to lower her guard in the Sylvan castle. Could she with this demon?
How exactly would she tell him her secret?
You remember Magh, the evil bitch with the tainted line? Surprise! Your fated female is one of those disgusting descendants of hers that you think should die. On top of that, I was Saetth's fiancee. S'posed to be his queen. I vowed to him that I'd deal you a blow, then I lied to you from our first moments on. See, I was a spy, just like Kari. Now I know history repeats itself, but I'm totally different from her--aside from being the same person engaged in the same type of scheming. . . .
What if he locked her in the tower again?
"Tell me what thoughts are hidden behind those spellbinding eyes." Gods, the way he was looking at her . . .
With his millennia of yearning, the demon tugged at her heart.
She didn't want to ruin this. She'd never been in a real relationship, just wanted to explore it a little more. She drummed up a question: "Why did you move the trophy? It must have hung on that wall since the first days of this castle."
"The Lotan served his watch commendably, but my wife is not a fan. So off he goes." The demon pinned her gaze. "Just because I don't adapt well doesn't mean I'm incapable of it. I will adjust to sharing my life. As you're adjusting to sharing yours."
The great king of hell was trying. That sense of hope hit her with all the finesse of a charging hellhound.
"There's your soft look, the one that twists my horns into knots. I'm defenseless against it."
Was a soft look all it took to manage him? Maybe this big dominant beast could be tempted by sweet things.
"But, Calliope, I too ask for patience. It will take me time to get this right. I want you to give me some leeway."
"Like a get-out-of-jail-free card?"
A lock of hair tumbled over one of his eyes. "I suppose you could say that."
"I'll give you a card if you give me one too." Or an entire deck.
"Agreed," he said. "On that note, I have a wedding gift for you."
She popped upright. "Ooh, what is it, what is it?" A rock? Emeralds?
He sat up and conjured a weird-looking . . . wand thingy? "Here." He handed it to her.
She accepted the strange piece. It looked kind of fey in origin. "I . . . thank you." She was grateful for his thoughtfulness, but she did wonder what message he wanted to convey with such an unromantic present.
"I was guided to give you that. Graven kept putting it in my path."
"What do you mean?"
"With jewels in mind for my new bride, I traced to one of the castle's rooms, a chamber I remembered for its copious riches. The area was empty except for this: a scepter wrought of gold and Titanian steel."
Titanian? The Ancestors' Sword had been forged of that metal.
Abyssian continued, "Not exactly what I'd had in mind. So I went to a second room. Again, I found it empty except for the scepter. The third room was the same. Graven wanted you to have it." He curled his finger under her chin. "Calliope, never refuse the castle more than three times."
"Why not?"
He shrugged. "My father told my brother and me this rule. Even he didn't understand Graven. Which meant even he feared what it is capable of."
She glanced around, wondering what her new home had in mind for her. "How would a fey scepter end up in a demon castle?"
"With Graven, who knows?"
"Thank you for the gift, demon." She leaned forward to press her lips against his cheek. "Will you put this on the mantel?" She handed him the scepter.
With a nod, he rose, unfolding the long length of his body. She'd seen his ass in the shower, but she hadn't gotten a view like this.
My, my, my. Sculpted rock-hard muscles flexed with each of his steps. In the shower, when she'd been on her knees giving him another blowjob, she'd dug her nails into those muscles; he'd cradled her face with shaking hands and stared down into her eyes, rasping in Demonish, "How I've yearned for you . . ."
On his return to the bed, he treated her to even more magnificence.
Her gaze traveled up his lean body, lingering on his sigh-worthy dick, roving over the chiseled ridges of his torso, before settling on his smirking face.
He joined her in bed, then situated her in his wings. "My jealous hell queen can't get enough of me."
Fighting a grin, she turned over, giving him her back. "Shut it, you smug prick."
He clasped her waist, drawing her against him. At her ear, he said, "If I even look at other females in front of you, I'll be endangering lives. My Lila does not share her toys."
"Fuck off, demon."
She dozed off to the sound of his chuckle.
Over this night, the female in Sian's arms had delivered more bliss than he'd known existed.
As he stroked her shining hair, her breaths were deep and even. His young mate needed more sleep than he did.
Hours passed, but he found it difficult to close his eyes. He was half convinced this must all be a dream.
A hundred things had rendered him dumbstruck tonight. Among them: when she'd gazed at him with desire and told him she understood why women fought over him.
And she'd bloody leered at him when he'd returned naked to bed. His lips quirked just to recall that.
Everything Calliope had objected to initially had been because of his treatment of her--not necessarily his looks.
Possibility glimmered on the horizon like a flame. Could he let go of his lifeline?
As he'd told her, he'd been one way for so very many years. And he still dreaded how the hell-change would affect their future. But for now he wanted to savor a night like this.
Her body twitched against his. Such an active dream life. Was he about to be tortured once more?
He frowned when she gave a distressed moan. Instead of sexual dreams, she was plagued with a nightmare.
He brushed his knuckles along one high cheekbone. He sensed her blocks weren't as impenetrable as usual. Maybe she was beginning to trust him. Though tempted to delve, he would respect her privacy--
She shot upright with a scream.
"Lila! I've got you." He dragged her against his chest, tucking her head under his chin. "It was just a nightmare. Shh." Protectiveness surged inside him. His mate should never be afraid. Rubbing her back, he said, "Tell me what you dreamed."
Shuddering, she murmured, "I couldn't run fast enough."
"Shh. You're safe here with me." He rocked her. "You have nothing to be afraid of."
Sounding dazed, she said, "There's a face to the violence you love so much, a cost that the Morior never have to pay. Why wouldn't you love war? You never feel the toll like the rest of us."
He lowered her back to the bed, holding her.
In time, she drifted to sleep again.
As he listened to her breaths, his mind raced. She was righ
t: the Morior lost nothing with each battle, just seized one victory after another.
He couldn't do anything about war out in other realms, but could he change his own? Calliope continued to bring up the legions. Even by punishment standards, their two strongholds in Slaughter Gorge were disgraceful, festering with hatred and violence.
Sian and hell were symbiotic; so what did those hellholes represent within him?
He could alleviate the worst through magic--changing doom to fortune--or he could give those demons a purpose.
Sian thought of his brother. Gourlav had wanted commerce and prosperity to be his legacy. He'd been such a young king with so many dreams for Pandemonia.
If Sian took up the mantle, his twin's life wouldn't have been one long tragedy.
Sian wanted this kingdom to be his mate's home, but was he ready to make it the home she needed?
FORTY-FIVE
You don't write, you never call . . ." Rune drawled, giving Sian a crooked grin. "Hitched three weeks, and you never got around to inviting us to meet the missus?"
Sian had just been overseeing his new project when he'd sensed arrivals. He'd found the archer seated in Sian's throne, sharpening his claws with an arrowhead, and Josephine kicked back in Calliope's throne.
Uthyr slumbered like the dead nearby.
Sian had a little time to talk with them since Calliope was in the library, buried in books.
Rune pointed the arrow at the sleeping dragon. "I've been reading Uthyr's mind, trying to get caught up on your marriage, but mainly he's been dreaming about plump cattle."
"Careful that we don't get our feelings hurt," Josephine said, her pale face glowing. The longer the halfling was with Rune, the happier she appeared. "Couldn't spare five minutes to draw summoning runes?"
"I've been busy."
"I'll bet you have been, old boy." Rune waggled his brows, his craggy features showing his amusement. "So where's the slip of a female who brought down hard-ass Abyssian Infernas?"
"She's not ready to meet anyone yet." With a sigh, he admitted, "She fears the Morior, has heard only the worst about us." Every time he assured her of her safety, Calliope refused to listen.
Josephine said, "You want me to go inform her how bad the Vertas is? How Nix kicked my ass?"
"Calliope isn't pro-Vertas." Yesterday, she'd told him, "Let's bow out and not pick sides. You and I can be allies, just us." She had no idea how futile her attempts were. He would always be a Morior. "I will make her understand, but it will take time."
