How badly he must have needed that!
As those dry spasms finally eased, he gave one last shudder, leaving her right on the brink.
“You came?” she murmured. No seed means demon.
Catching his breath, he rested his forehead against hers. “Harder than I could ever have imagined. You made me bellow to the rafters.” Unguarded, he rasped, “And now I feel no pain in my body.”
He raised his face, meeting her eyes. His pupils were blown from his recent pleasure, his irises . . . darker?
What was he thinking about his first orgasm with another? And just like that, those damned doubts returned. What is he thinking about me?
“Now it’s your turn.” He released some of the constriction around her. When he trailed the backs of his fingers across one of her br**sts, then lower, her lids grew heavy. “How does my mate like to be petted?” He sifted his fingers through the curls on her sex.
If he touched her clitoris, she was going to lose it. And if she totally let go, she’d be confirming everything he’d said about her. “Wait.” This very day he’d called her “easy quarry,” and she was proving him right! At the thought, she tensed, her impending orgasm dissipating. “I can’t do this.”
“No, sweet, you don’t want to stop. I scent how badly you need release.”
Desperately!
The sorceress in her was clamoring, Pleasure’s there for the taking!
The vulnerable woman within murmured, If he shames you after this, it will hurt forever.
“Let me tend to you, Melanthe. You must be aching.”
“I . . . can’t.” She turned her head away.
TWENTY-EIGHT
She’d let other males pleasure her—just not him!
Thronos punched the tree, cracking the trunk, but Melanthe never faced him.
Before he said something he regretted, he drew back his wings, striding away from her. He found his breeches, nearly ripping them apart in frustration.
Touching her had surpassed all of his fantasies. He’d never known a female could be so soft, so sensual. But she’d denied him. He’d failed to overcome her resistance—he’d . . . failed.
And he’d been unable to hold out against the feel of her. His legs were still unsteady from that mind-blowing release. His shaft had liked its culmination so well, it’d been primed for the next one immediately.
He would never get enough of her! Yanking his breeches up his damp legs, he fastened them over his still raging member, then collected his shirt. By the time he was dressed, she’d donned her skirt and was fastening her breastplate.
Yet again things had gone sideways. Yet again Thronos didn’t understand his current position. She’d described Pandemonia’s traps; was this an unearthly pleasure followed by punishment?
Or merely a foiled plan to get her pregnant? “Why would you let other males give you pleasure but not me?”
She met his gaze. “Because none of them would ridicule me if I let go. And none of them deemed me a harlot. There were things I wanted to do to you, with you, but I heard your voice in my head, sneering that I was easy quarry.”
He wanted them to get past this, to start over. So he could touch her again, wrap her close to him. Gods, how erotic it had been, with the skin of his wings molding over the curves of her womanly little body. Enfolding her had fulfilled some primal need in him, had made him feel like he was taking her into him. “I won’t insult you like that again.”
“No, you’ll just think it. Thronos, I want to be with a male who likes me. Not one who hates me but is forced by his instinct to be with me anyway.”
“I don’t hate you, Melanthe.”
“Three nights ago, you compared me to a broken bone!”
“I thought you were different then.”
“Ah, yes, you assumed that I was sleeping with my brother. Yet after we resolved that little misunderstanding, you’ve been trying to shame me. You expect me to lose control with you—when you scorn that very behavior? How can I just snap my fingers and get over that?”