A scream ripped from her. A scream of pleasure and pain. Heaven and hell. Wonder and regret. She clawed at his back, shredding his shirt. She thrashed, she writhed even harder, she cried some more —but she didn't beg.
"Are you hurt?" he asked when she quieted, his tone broken, the cracks filled with disbelief. "Kind of," she managed, not really wanting to explain. "But it's good, it's good. Don't stop."
He jerked his fingers from her—bastard, not done flying!—and tore at the denim covering his cock. Palm wet from her arousal, he gripped himself, hips pistoning back and forth, hand moving up and down. The glitter of his skin brightened, became blinding, a white light that signaled the end of life. Death by pleasure.
Now just as desperate to watch his pleasure, Bride leaned up and nicked his jugular, drawing only the slightest heavenly bead and rubbing whatever pleasure-chemical her teeth produced into the tiny wound. He stiffened, stilled, a roar splitting his lips and echoing in her ears. On and on he shook, seconds blending into minutes, minutes to a necessary eternity.
Finally, both of them collapsed. His weight smashed her into the mattress, but she didn't care.
His skin ceased its glowing, and she gazed up at him, dazed by what had just happened. Lines of tension still branched from his eyes, and his lips were set in a mulish frown. But his eyes, oh, his eyes. They were pure amber fire, glowing like his skin had, lighting up the room. His breath sawed in and out, and sweat still poured from him.
As she watched, he lifted his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth. Their combined essence gleamed there. He licked away every drop, completely uninhibited, and it was the most erotic thing she'd ever seen.
"Delicious," he muttered, briefly closing his eyes and savoring.
Do not relax your guard. Well, any more than you already have. "Your friend might burst in any second, thinking I killed you."
"Nope. He knows I can take care of myself." Devyn anchored his fists beside her temples, locking her in place. Concern was seeping into his expression. "Are you embarrassed by what happened?"
She frowned. Again, he was concerned about shaming and embarrassing her. Why? "Should I be?”
“You came. On my fingers."
And that was a bad thing? "What about you? Are you embarrassed about the way you came? I mean, you masturbated on me."
Twin circles painted his cheeks, but he shook his head in denial.
How odd. Something about his reaction was off here, but she just didn't know what it was or what it meant. Still, she couldn't help but be proud of herself. A man of his experience had come without sinking inside her. He must have been intensely aroused.
"Do you regret what happened?" he asked.
"Do you question all of your lovers like this?"
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Do you. Regret what. Happened?"
Did she? Now she knew his taste and already hungered for more. She would never again be able to look at him without thinking of the pleasure they had shared. That angered her. But regret it? "No." She didn't.
"Good. Because you owe me two more kisses, and I have every intention of collecting. Soon." He rolled beside her and drew her into his body, holding her close, fingers playing with her hair, then tracing paths of fire down her arms.
She tried to disengage, but he tightened his grip. His chest was firm and slick against hers. "I don't
owe you a damn thing. This little excursion paid you in full."
He stiffened. "This little excursion counts as one kiss. One. I still remember my name, and I believe you promised I wouldn't."
"You are so annoying."
He sat up and stared down at her. "No. I'm confused. I have no idea what to do with you. You confound me at every turn." Frowning, he scooted to the edge of the bed and gave her his back. "Get dressed. I'll take you to see Aleaha."
CHAPTER 13
Devyn was baffled by himself.
Bride hadn't begged him to bring her to climax, but he'd done it anyway. He'd been helpless to do otherwise. He hadn't been able to walk away. Yeah, after his father died and he'd conquered his guilt, he'd taken any female who had even opened her legs and touched himself any time the desire struck. He'd been the one begging, but back then, he'd had no control. He'd hated himself for that weakness and had learned restraint. Iron restraint. Restraint that had not broken until today.
Restraint Bride did possess.
She had wanted his blood, but she had only grazed his neck. She'd contented herself with little beads from his tongue. She'd wanted sex, but she'd contented herself with his fingers. Such willpower ...
He was disgraceful. He'd left his clothes on, hoping to dull his own desires. That plan had failed. As it was, he'd almost died from the pleasure. He suspected actual skin-to-skin contact really would kill him.
What a way to go, though, right?
As many women as he'd been with over the years, and as much control as he usually displayed, he shouldn't have reacted to this one so intensely. His body didn't seem to understand that. He'd smelled her sweetness, seen her lean curves, and had craved everything she had to give. He'd had to taste those lush lips, had to hold those soft br**sts, caress that smooth stomach, finger that hot, wet sheath.
What was it about her that so entranced him? He needed to figure it out so that he could combat it. He'd once thought it was the challenge of her, but Eden Black had turned him down time and time again, and he'd let Eden go without a single regret.
Maybe it was the way she constantly surprised him. He'd expected her to hide her body; she'd flaunted it. He'd expected her to cave under his sensual assault; she'd flourished. The braggart had even made him laugh. What was next? Making him drool for her? Well, he was a king. He drooled for no one!
"Don't leave this room," he growled, standing and adjusting his clothes. Then, for good measure, he stalked to the door, opened it a crack, and called, "If she leaves this room, shoot her."
Behind him, Bride gasped. He didn't turn and face her. He stepped into the shower stall with his clothes on and pressed the code for a thorough cleaning.
He'd come in his pants. How mortifying. At least she hadn't mocked him about it. Hadn't even seemed to mind. He'd wanted to sink into a black hole when he'd realized what he'd done.
The enzyme spray settled on his skin and clothes, burrowing deep and scrubbing away the evidence of his too-eager desire. When he reentered the bedroom, Bride was exactly where he'd left her, only she'd pulled on a fresh pink T-shirt and a pair of jeans. They looked good on her. Made her look young and innocent. Macy's necklace still circled her neck.