The darkest seduction - Showalter Gena (читаем книги онлайн бесплатно полностью без сокращений .txt) 📗

Dropping the towel, naked and glistening, she obeyed without hesitation, stopping between his spread legs. His big hands settled on her hips, his thumbs lightly rasping over the flare of her waist. She shivered.

“Where did you go?” She tunneled her fingers through his hair, adoring the soft strands as they lifted and fell.

“Just out in the hall. I was going to lose it, and I didn’t want you to see. Punched a few holes in the wall. Now I just want to hold you for a minute. Okay?”

Always.“Yes.”

He tugged her closer, his arms tightening around her, and then he laid his head just over her breast, his warm breath trekking over her skin, his ear pressed into her heartbeat. They stayed like that for a long while, until she was shaking with the need to touch him, to be with him fully.

He must have sensed her desire because he urged her forward, taking more of her weight, more, until he lay flat and she was on top of him. Then he turned both their bodies sideways, rolled her and settled her in front of him, so that he cradled her. His chest to her spine, his erection pressing between her cheeks.

“Let me love you,” he whispered. “I want to fill you and move in you and come in you. I want to be so deep in you, baby. So damn deep.” His hand moved between her breasts, angled, and kneaded the upper, rubbing against her nipple, creating the most delicious friction.

“Yes,” she repeated. Her brain was fogging, her every thought belonging to him, to what he was doing.

His other hand moved between her legs and found the center of her desire. “All this honey. All mine.” One finger burrowed into the gap her legs created and penetrated her, then another.

She rocked with his inward strokes, arching into him. “I love the way you work me.”

He nibbled on her ear. Slid a third finger home. Moan after moan cut through her throat, booming through the room.

“Get me all wet, baby. I want you all over me, coating me, drenching me.”

She continued to rock…rock against him, losing herself, happy to lose herself, never wanting to be found, desperate to remain here, with him, always, lost, so lost.

“So perfect. More.”

She squeezed her eyelids shut, her ears picking up sounds she’d previously missed. The hard rasp of his breath, coming faster and faster. The shift of his hips against the sheets, the slow grind of flesh against flesh. “Paris.”

“I’m going to do you so good.” His voice was guttural, almost totally animal. “I’m going to be in you, and I’m going to have you down my throat, your taste in my mouth. You’re going to welcome me inside, aren’t you.”

“Oh, yes. Please, yes.”

He removed his fingers, and she cried out, her desperation for him cranking out of control. How he’d get everything he wanted, she didn’t know, but at least she wasn’t empty for long. He clutched her upper knee and parted her legs, and without a pause in the glide of his hips, he slid as deep as he’d promised. She cried out again, this time in relief, stretched and filled and nearly insane with her need for more.

He moved in her, even as he traced her lips with his wet fingers—wet with her—and slid two digits inside her mouth. “Suck them.”

She did, oh, she did, tasting herself, the erotic act new for her, but so damn arousing. She rolled those fingers around, sucked on them as commanded, bit down on them. Then his fingers were gone and he was angling her face, and his mouth was pressing against hers, his tongue darting inside, taking the taste of her into himself. All the while he moved in her, so, so deep, then almost all the way out, then so, sooooodeep.

This was more than sex, some distant instinct told her; this was a bonding, a mating. He was all over her, in her, and she was all over him, in him. This man…oh, this man. She couldn’t get enough, would never get enough.

“Where am I?” he suddenly demanded. His thrusts were becoming jerkier, slamming inside harder, harsher.

“Here.” A moan of passion. “With me.”

“Where am I?”

“All over me. In me.”

“Yeah. That’s right. All over you. In you. I’m yours, and you are mine.” He dove back in for another soul-stealing kiss, shattering her, claiming her. “You like this.”

Not a question, but she answered anyway. “Love. This.” As many times as they’d been together, he’d never been this intense, this focused on ownership. And hell, she wanted to own him, too. She reached up and back and fisted his hair, holding on tight, not caring when the strands pulled.

He hissed in a breath.

Her hips arched back, with force this time, slamming into him. Both of them groaned at the bliss. She edged ever closer to release, and he was right there with her.

“Take me, baby. Take all of me. Yeah. That’s it. You know the way.”

Pressure, building and building, consuming. Just a little more… “Paris!” One more hard slam and she was shooting into the stars, pleasure flooding her in a rush, a storm. Her inner walls clutched at him, grabbing on to him, letting him know he was where he belonged, that this was right, that they were right.

He rolled her all the way to her stomach, pressing her face into the pillows, and hammered harder, faster. A roar ripped out of him, as rough as his thrusts, and he filled her up, coming and coming and coming some more. She was right there with him, launching into a second orgasm, one that snuck up on her, but took her ever higher.

When she came back to earth, she blinked open her eyes. Had she passed out? She must have, because Paris was on his side, and she was on her side, and they were facing each other, but she didn’t recall moving. His breathing was a little off, so she didn’t think very much time had passed. He’d drawn the sheet over their bodies and was peering over at her, as if memorizing her features.

“I want to leave with you,” he said. “Go somewhere Cronus can’t find you. Where no one can hurt you.”

Her heart lurched. No one—meaning his friends. “I told you. I don’t want you to be mad at anyone on my behalf.”

“They disrespected you.”

“And I deserved it.”

“No!” He threw a punch, his fist going through the headboard, wood shards raining. “ Itold younot to talk like that. And the next time you do, I’m putting you over my knee. They aren’t perfect, not a single one of them. We’ve all done things. Things that would shame hardened criminals.”

“Well, they’re reformed.”

“So are you. I’m not saying I want to leave them forever. I love them. Need them. I just want to give them time to accept you. And just so you know, if I ever treated their women the way they’ve treated you, they would retaliate.”

She had to change the subject. Had. To.He was melting her resolve. Being what she needed, saying such wonderful things. And he meant them. His tone was all about the serious.

“Hiding from Cronus,” she said. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

Gradually he relaxed. “There are medallions. Whoever wears them is hidden from him and all his followers. He gave them to us once, then took them away. I can steal one.”

And enrage the beast, placing himself in eternal danger? “No. I have to do this, Paris. I have to go to Galen, and Cronus is going to take me. I just have to,” she finished lamely. For you, for me.

“That’s it?” Anger returned to those electric eyes. “You’re not even going to think about it? When the very idea of my enemy breathing the same air as you drives me to commit murder?”

Her own anger sparked. “When it comes to putting you in danger? When it comes to making sure you survive? There isn’t anything to think about.”

He softened, but only slightly. “Same with me. I don’t want you in danger. Ever. And you think about this. I will waste away without you. Yeah, I know I’m the king of manipulation, playing on your emotions, but I will do anythingto keep you. I will kill. I will lie. I will betray and cheat and steal. I will topple mountains.”