Panting hard, he rode her to madness and beyond. He wasn’t human and didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Within moments, he was hard and ready to come again. His body was a well-honed machine. His goal, sexual satisfaction.
The darkness in him took over, reveling in the pleasure she gave him. Having her come again and again left him craving more. His hips pistoned, his hands hard on her hips, holding her steady as he plundered. And she was there with him, her sweet pussy squeezing and milking him. It was glorious.
It was only after her fifth orgasm and his third, he finally gained control. What the hell was he doing? If she’d been human, he might have killed her.
“Fuck.” Breathing heavily, he lifted her away from the wall, still holding her in his arms, unwilling to relinquish her just yet.
Her head rested limply on his shoulder. “Didn’t we just do that?” She sighed and then wrapped her arms around him.
Maccus closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the water stream over them. He’d fucked her without concern or care, something he’d never done, even at his worst. Being so strong, he’d always had to be in control, so he didn’t hurt the female he was with, even supernatural creatures. Not to mention, he had to be alert in case his partner decided to try to kill him.
He’d lost all sense of time and place with Morrigan.
He stepped out of the shower, ignoring the broken tile littering the bottom. Holding her snuggly with one arm, he turned off the water. She sighed and kissed his neck.
They were both dripping, but he closed his eyes and drew all the heat in the room toward them, blowing the warmed air over them. When he opened his eyes, they were both dry.
He carried her into his bedroom and placed her in his bed. She looked too at home with her head on his pillow, his comforter pulled over her. Stepping away from her was more difficult than he’d imagined.
Her eyes closed, Morrigan smuggled down and gave a small snore.
His lips twitched. She’d destroyed him. But at least he wasn’t alone in that. He’d totally worn her out. And some part of her trusted him enough to fall asleep in his presence.
For the first time in more than ten thousand years, Maccus smiled. Not an ironic one or one designed to irritate or scare the crap out of an opponent, but an honest to goodness smile.
It disappeared as fast as it appeared.
The woman sleeping in his bed made him vulnerable. Why had Gabriel tried to contract him to kill her?
It was a puzzle to be solved. He had to protect her, at least until her true purpose in the scheme of things became clear. If the archangel was willing to contract him to kill her, she might be more important to him than he realized.
And while he was figuring that out, he had to keep her from killing him. Because that was why she was here. Who’d hired her? Lucifer? Gabriel? Some other, unidentified player?
She made another small sigh. Her skin was rosy from the shower and their lovemaking, and he could smell himself on her. It would be so easy to crawl between her thighs and taste her, arousing her slowly, so by the time she woke, she’d be ready to take him again.
But first, he had work to do to ensure he didn’t have any other uninvited guests. He’d stayed out of the games played between Heaven and Hell for thousands of years, but he was being drawn back into them.
Until he figured out why, he was going to protect himself. Anyone stupid enough to try to gain unauthorized entry to his home was going to be in for quite a surprise.
He walked out into his living room, manifested one of the daggers from his chest, and dragged the blade over his palm. Blood seeped from the shallow wound. Dipping his finger into it, he stepped up to the wall and began to draw.
…
Morrigan’s entire body ached. Not in a she’d-been-fighting-a-demon