He opened a door inside her that she had never known existed. A part of her that she wished would lie dormant once again rather than awakening for a man she knew she could never truly have.
Except for this moment.
Burying her hands in his hair, she gripped the coarse strands, holding on to them as one hand curled beneath her bottom to lift her to him and the other cupped the side of her swollen, unbound breast. Using the hand at her rear for leverage, Storme lifted her knees to grip his hips and allowed the heavy, hard ridge of his c**k to ride against the sensitive mound of her pu**y through the thin summer denim she wore.
It was exquisite. Pleasure seared the swollen bud of her clit beneath the borrowed jeans and dampened the sensitive folds of her pu**y as a feeling of lush sensuality overcame her.
"I can smell your heat," he groaned against her lips. "Like a soft spring rain, damp and sweet as it washes over me."
Her head fell back as his teeth raked along her neck. There should have been fear, and she couldn't quite figure out why there wasn't. Why didn't the horrifying image of her brother's death haunt her when he nipped at her neck and raked his teeth along the sensitive flesh?
She couldn't figure it out; all she knew was that rather than visions of pain, what she saw was an explosion of light and color behind her closed eyelids, as pleasure flooded her body.
As her knees gripped his hips, she was aware of him walking, moving, until he reached the living room and she felt the smooth, butter-soft leather of the couch beneath her back.
Her knees still gripped his hips, her hands still burrowed in his hair, as his lips moved back to hers. A little nip of his teeth and she opened to him, her tongue meeting his, licking, taking, exhilarating in the rush of sensations that came from it.
That subtle taste of cinnamon and chocolate met her taste buds and had her moaning at the sheer decadence of it. His tongue was heated and warm, licking against hers, spreading the taste of his kiss, teasing her until she surrounded it and fought to hold it in her mouth, sucking at it with greedy draws of her lips as he pumped it between her lips.
God, it was so good. She couldn't stand it, she wondered if she would ever be able to live without the regret of losing the pleasure, the taste and the feel of him once this was over and she left Haven.
Stretching beneath him, Storme felt the moan that vibrated in her own chest, a human counterpoint to the half-animal growl of pleasure that came from his.
Pressing her heel into the leather of the couch, she arched to him, br**sts and hips pressing into him as her head fell back, giving him leave to caress the fragile line of her throat.
The material of her T-shirt eased up her torso. Releasing his hair, Storme stretched her arms over her head, allowing him to peel the shirt from her before he tossed it away and jerked his own over his head.
Opening her lashes, Storme stared up at the warrior poised above her. With the long red hair, the ocean blue eyes and the tough, hard contours of his chest and muscled biceps, he could have been a warrior of centuries past. A seductive, dominant warrior determined to possess.
Rising, moving back with one knee in the couch, the other on the floor, he trailed his fingers down her stomach to the snap of her jeans.
Within seconds they were both naked and Storme was reaching for him with all the desperate need for the warmth that was so much a part of him.
"Not yet," he growled, pushing her hands back as he spread her thighs and gazed down at the bare folds of her pu**y. "I've dreamed of tasting you, Storme. Of licking that silken bare pu**y like the precious treat I know it's going to be."
Her womb clenched in response, a punch of sensation vibrating through it as lust speared straight to the heart of her sex. Beneath his darkening gaze she felt the folds heat, become plumper as her clit swelled with responsive need.
"Touch yourself for me, lass," he whispered, his gaze flicking to hers before lowering once again between her thighs. "Let me see the pleasure you can give yourself first. Tease me, lass, until I'm ready to burn alive for ye."
She nearly lost her breath; definitely she was losing her senses. As Styx moved to kneel on the floor beside her, her fingers slipped down her stomach to the wet heat of her sex.
Never had she felt so sensual, so sexual. There was something about that wicked challenge in his gaze that called out to the temptress she'd always wondered if she could be.
Her breath caught as she circled her clit slowly and Styx's chest rumbled with a low vibration of pleasure. With one hand he gripped the hard, flushed shaft of his c**k as he pressed her thighs farther apart with the other.
The bare folds beneath her fingers parted as the slick juices of her arousal clung to her fingers. The feel of her own fingers stroking the sensitive, intimate flesh rarely brought her to release. But as he watched, his gaze darker, his expression tight, she felt the pleasure beginning to burn along her flesh and settle in the sensitive tissue of her pu**y.
Her touch moved to her clit as he parted the intimate folds with his fingers, parting her, sending swift flares of desperate heat exploding through her pu**y and traveling through her body as he watched her caress herself.
"There, love," he crooned. "Stroke your pretty clit, show me your pleasure as I feel it trembling through you."
Her head twisted on the leather cushions as her hips arched, driving the penetration deeper. She wanted him inside her, wanted him filling her. Moving against her clit, her fingers elicited exquisite pleasure. Opening her eyes, she gazed back at him, a whimpering sound of agonizing need passing her lips.
"Tell me what you need, lass," he crooned as his fingers parted the swollen lips and caressed the edges of the clenched opening with firm, sensual strokes.
"You know what I need," she gasped, fighting to breathe as the hunger for it struck at her womb, clenching it almost violently.
"Nay, lass, not unless you tell me," he urged her, his voice tight, deep and rough.