The Darkest Passion lotu-6 Read online

  Bargaining? Really? Way to resist.

  “I’m a confident, aggressive woman, so I’m okay with the not changing anything between us thing,” she said with a casual—forced?—shrug. “Cuddling isn’t a top priority, anyway. But talking about what happened? I can’t promise.”

  Did this “confident” and “aggressive” woman truly not care to burrow into his side and hold him tight once their lips parted? Did she truly want him for a kiss and nothing else? That delighted him. Truly. That did not disappoint him. Not even a little.

  “Right now, I just want to use your mouth and your body,” she added with a blush. Not as confident as she seemed, perchance? “But don’t worry. I’ll only rub against you a little bit. So if we’re done with this conversation, I’d like to get to it.”

  Despite his disappoint—uh, utter delight—that she was willing to kiss him without expecting anything else, fire sparked in his blood, caught and spread. Soon his veins were like rivers of lava, every muscle clenched and ready, burning. Use his body? Please, please, please.

  I said more!

  What an odd mix of innocence and hedonism she was.

  What an odd mix of reluctance and enthusiasm he was.

  He should stop this now, finally, before things spun out of control.

  Control. Damn it. He needed to exercise some and act rationally, rather than talking himself into and out of being with her. Actually, he needed to talk himself—and his demon—out of it one final time and then leave.

  “As you reminded me, you could have died today,” he said darkly. Good. Nothing upset him more than thoughts of death. “You’re easily breakable.” Except that. “So?”

  “So?” He could only shake his head. Like the humans he always observed, she didn’t seem to care. She wasn’t on her knees, begging for more time, and obviously had no plans to do so. His jaw clenched painfully. She should be begging.

  “Are we done chatting now?” she asked, blush reigniting. “If not, I guess I could touch myself some more. I liked it before. Maybe I’ll like it again.” Without waiting for his response, she cupped her breasts and moaned. “Oh, yes. I like.”

  Perhaps she wasn’t blushing, after all. Perhaps she was simply flushed with pleasure.

  He gulped. “No, we aren’t done chatting. Why aren’t you afraid of dying?”

  “Everything and everyone has an end,” she said, carnal ministrations never ceasing. “I mean, you’re going to be killed soon, and though I loathe the thought, you don’t see me crying about that, either. I know what will happen, and I accept what cannot be changed. I’m trying to live while I can. While we can. Dwelling on the bad is what destroys all hint of joy.”

  He felt a muscle tick beneath his eye. “I will not be killed.”

  She stilled, some of the sparkle fading from her expression. He tried not to mourn the loss. “How many times do I have to tell you?” she said. “You won’t be able to beat the angel sent to slay you.”

  “Tell me something else, then. You gave up your immortality for fun and immediately ran to me. That means you expect me to supply this fun. Why would you do that, why would you give up so much and rely on me so heavily if I’m to be destroyed?”

  She offered him a sad smile. “I would rather be with someone a short time than not at all.”

  Her claim reminded him of what Paris had said the other night, and he bristled. He wasn’t wrong in this. They were. “You sound like a friend of mine. A very foolish man.”

  “Then silly me for not choosing him instead. Better a fool who plays the game than one who remains on the sidelines.”

  He bared his teeth in a scowl. Don’t even think about being with someone else, he wanted to roar.

  Wrath, too, erupted. Not at Olivia, but at Paris. The demon flashed images of the warrior’s head on a platter—minus his body.

  Aeron instantly sobered. Oh, no, you don’t. You will leave Paris alone.

  She’s mine.

  No, mine, he snapped, then realized what he’d done. I mean, she belongs to neither of us. I’ve told you that. Now will you please shut up?

  “Are we done chatting now?” One of Olivia’s fingertips traced down the flatness of her stomach and circled her navel. “Or shall we make this conversation more interesting?” She nibbled her bottom lip, considering. “Oh, I know what we can discuss. Can people really die of pleasure?”

  Oh, hell, no. She hadn’t just asked that.

  Do not soil her. “We’ll never know.” He sat up, meaning to toss her aside and leave her here. Alone. Aroused, but alone. The desire to murder his friend had done nothing to temper his need, nor had the reminder of Lysander’s threat. Retreat was his only other option.

  “Well, you might not, but I promise you I’ll find out.”

  He froze. Just how far would this angel go to discover the truth? As the question drifted through his mind, his cock pulsed. The image of her splayed out, her own hand between her legs, fingers sinking deep, consumed him. Dear…gods…

  “No. You will behave yourself.” The words croaked from him. “Now, I have to go.”

  Stay! Wrath commanded.

  Gods help him, he did. He stayed. As easily as if he’d been chained to the bed, his fight gone before it had time to fortify him.

  “Fine. But I really wish— No. No!” she repeated more forcefully. “You can go when we’re done. Only then.” Olivia’s arms wound around his neck, her hands firm against his hair, her nails sinking into his scalp. “I know what to do now.” She jerked his mouth to hers and her tongue instantly plunged deep.

  Oh, yes. A quick study.

  Her lips slanted over his, their teeth scraping. The heat…the wetness. Consuming, destroying his resolve. Everything he needed, everything he ached for. Chasing every thought but one from his head: finish.

  Yes. Yes! More.

  She moaned, and he swallowed the decadent sound. And when she rubbed against him, he could feel how damp she was, even through his pants. His gentleness—gone. His tentativeness—abolished. He arched up to meet her. When that wasn’t enough, he clasped her ass and forced her to move faster, harder. Deeper.

  “I want to touch you everywhere,” she rasped as she plundered. “I want to taste you everywhere.”

  “Me first. I—” No. No, no, no. Do not soil her, do not soil her.

  She nipped her way to his chin, then lower, sucking on his neck to ease the sting.

  Yes, please. Soil her all day, all night.

  More, Wrath demanded again.

  More. Yes. More— No! Damn it. Threaten her, Wrath. That’ll send me fleeing the room, surely.

  More.

  Is that the only word you know?

  More, damn you.

  Aeron snarled. No one wanted to cooperate today.

  “Why me?” He rolled Olivia over, pinning her down again, meaning to stop the madness but licking the hollow between her neck and shoulder instead. That hammering pulse looked too delicious to ignore. Foolish man. Stupid demon. Beautiful female.

  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.

  Heaven.

  “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?” H
er 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.

  More!

  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?”

  “My navel.”

  “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.

  Hated reality.

  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.”

  Fool!

  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…

  Mine.

  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 th
e 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?

  “Aeron?”

  “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.

  Soon she was writhing against him again, moaning. Even reaching between their bodies, tunneling inside his pants and gripping his cock. He hissed in pleasure, in pain. She wasn’t gentle about that, either, and though she didn’t know the way of it, her motions a little too jerky, her touch was so welcome he found himself moving into her hold. Hard, fast, uncontrollable.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  He didn’t still. He couldn’t. She’d thumbed the slit at the head of his cock, spreading moisture, and in the span of a few seconds, he’d catapulted past the point of return. Reality would not intrude this time.

  “Don’t stop,” he told her.

  “It’s so…just a little…more…” Her grip tightened. “Aeron.”

  Again he jerked in pleasure. He had to cut back a roar as another knock sounded.

  “Don’t you dare stop, either!” Olivia screeched, then her tongue was back inside his mouth, her nails all over him, her knees gripping his sides.

  In and out he pumped his fingers. Her grip tightened even more, pulling his skin, but gods, the burn was good. So damn good. And when his thumb found her clitoris again, she screamed, loud and long and with so much pleasure a wave of pride flooded him—and with the pride came a release of his own.