Why have you allowed me to harden for her on multiple occasions, even though we’ve had her, yet you have never done the same with another? Over and over he’d asked this question, and always the answer was the same.
I don’t know. It just happens.
A lot of things “just happened.” While Paris hated the prospect of the upcoming separation from Sienna, she had easily agreed to their two-day limit. Had to be that way, yeah, but damn. Would a little fight about it have killed her?
Shit. He was being unreasonable, the darkness still driving his emotions. If he wanted this woman, he should have her. If he wanted to keep her, he should have her always. End of story.
Should, should, should. You couldn’t live with shoulds, could you. Only woulds.
He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He had a direct view of Sienna as she bathed. She lathered herself up, and damn if he wasn’t transfixed as the bubbles cascaded down her breasts, caught on her nipples, then resumed their journey to her navel.
“Sienna, I have to tell you something.” He ducked his head, too humiliated to face her. After this, she might walk, no chance of sex, but he had to do this or his conscience would never forgive him.
“You can tell me anything.”
They’d soon find out. “After your death I had to…you know…and even on my way here, I…”
What are you doing? You know it’s better if they never know what happens when we’re done with them.
We. You mean you. When you are done.
“I know,” she said, quieting both the demon and him.
No accusations, no making him unload the gory details. He liked that about her. A lot. She probably had no idea how rare that acceptance was, but he did. “The last time was a few days ago, I swear. I kept thinking I’d find you, and I wanted to be with you and only you when that happened.”
“Paris, we weren’t dating. We weren’t committed. The last thing I said to you was that I hated you. And I’m sorry for that, I really am. So don’t beat yourself up about your actions. You did nothing wrong.” Water splashed as she closed the distance between them. She stood and warm, wet hands wound around his neck, twirling the ends of his hair.
He rested his forehead on the curve of her shoulder. Soft, soft skin, scented so sweetly his head did that fogging thing. Sex went crazy, too, perhaps even more desperate to touch and taste her than Paris was. “I wouldn’t be so understanding with you. If you had slept with another man, even though we weren’t dating, even though we weren’t committed, I would…rage.” He still wouldn’t lie to her.
And what he would do afterward, when they split…
“At me?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” His arms shot out and dragged her closer, needing her closer. Water soaked his shirt to his chest. Her nipples rasped at him, creating the most sizzling of frictions. “I want you all to myself.”
She carried the sun under her skin, lighting him up every time he neared her. The jade and copper in her eyes were a lush, thriving valley he could lose himself in. Her mouth inspired every one of his most erotic fantasies.
Yes! This is what I’ve needed, what I’ve been craving.
What Paris had been craving.
“Since you,” she told him softly, “there’s been no one, and before you, years had passed.”
Years. The concept baffled him as much as it pleased him.
“He was…the only man I’ve ever… I thought I would marry him,” she said. “He was a Hunter, the one who recruited me.” A pause rife with a thousand sharp edges, then, “I’m changing the subject, but only a little. I would like to express one more doubt about, um, myself, before we continue.”
He stiffened, suspecting where she was headed and dreading it with every fiber of his being.
She hurried on. “I know we’ve been together before, and you know I’m just me. But this time it’s different, because I know you better, know myself better, and I’m afraid that you’ll… That I won’t be… That I can’t compare. To the others.”
Yeah. Exactly where he’d thought she was headed. He dropped a kiss onto her collarbone, licked where his lips had been, then sucked hard enough to leave his mark. She gasped.
“I’m afraid I won’t measure up, too,” he admitted. “Here I am, the keeper of Sex. What if I can’t please you? What if I can’t live up to your expectations? And Sienna,” he added before she had time to respond, “the others, they can’t compare to you.”
He’d been with thousands, yes, and he’d done his best to leave each one satisfied. He’d been using them, after all, so it was the least he could do. But making them come hadn’t been for their benefit; it had been for his, something to ease the sting of his guilt. Had he actually cared about their pleasure? No.
“Oh, Paris.” Those dainty, beautiful hands smoothed over his back. The motions were rhythmic, graceful, waking up parts of him he hadn’t known existed. “How about this? Today you’re just a man and I’m just a woman. There’s no past, no future, only the present. We do what feels good. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Ah, hell. She kept that up and he would blow before he got inside her. She’d offered him the sexiest words he’d ever heard, ever hoped to hear, and it was another reason to like her. She did more than arouse him. She comforted him.
“Yeah. I’d like that,” he said.
Me, too!
That’s enough out of you. He settled his big hands on Sienna’s tiny hips, lifted her out of the water and set her on the rocky edge beside him. The warmth of the water had flushed her skin, and now, droplets traveled all the places he wanted to go. He moved in front of her, crouching, rocking back on his heels before settling on his knees. Slowly he drew his hands along the tops of her thighs. He stopped at her knees, his thumbs dabbling underneath for several minutes before he applied pressure and opened her up as wide as he could get her. She was pink, wet and glistening.
He should tongue her nipples first, and he meant to. That had been the plan. Open her up, slide closer and pay proper homage to those sweet little buds. Except, now that he had a direct view of the prettiest feminine core he’d ever seen, there would be no starting up top and working his way down. He wanted that. Now. Wanted her dripping.
“I need you in my mouth. Down my throat. All over me. Tell me you need that, too.”
“I—”
“Tell me.”
“Yes. Please, Paris. Now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
NO TEASING HIM, NO TORMENTING him. His woman deserved a reward. Paris pressed a soft kiss where his thumbs had played, just behind her knees, then licked and nibbled his way up…up… A tremor moved through her, a perfect mimic of the vibrations Sex was throwing at him.
He leaned closer…closer still…breathed deeply, taking in the erotic scent of her desire. His blood fired, burning through him, scorching everything in its path and leaving only the desire. It was all he knew, all he wanted to know. Then he was there, right on her, licking his way up her center.
She cried out, the hoarse sound blending with his moan of rapture. Her arousal coated his tongue and he swallowed her, instantly addicted. His eyes closed as he savored. Wasn’t just ambrosia he was tasting, either. Beneath the tropical syrupiness of the drug, there was a unique flavor all her own, something wine-rich and decadent. And for the first time in his life, he thought he could actually taste the aphrodisiac his demon released. Sweet as honey, rich with spice, it filled his mouth, coated his throat, seeped from his skin, blending with Sienna’s succulence.
How many times had he dreamed of doing this to her, with her? Countless. He’d waited so long, and at times, he’d feared he would never know the reality. Nothing should have been able to live up to the languorous feasting he’d envisioned, but this not only lived up, it surpassed. She was everything he’d ever craved, and more.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, applying the most arousing sort of pressure. His woman wanted him back, attending to her need. There was no headier knowledge. He licked back up her core, but this time he didn’t pull away. He swirled the tip of his tongue around her clitoris, teasing, taunting, driving her passion higher. Hell, driving his own higher.
He was starved for her, his cock throbbing against his fly.
“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.
