thrummed through him. 'I did not spend enough time with your breasts last time we were together.'
'No.' Her nails scraped over his head, and he knew she was as hot and hungry as he was, already lost in passion. No longer did she try to rebuff him.
'Allow me to remedy that.' Lowering again, he sampled one strawberry nipple, then the other.
'Lucien,' she gasped.
'I love when you say my name.'
'More, Lucien. Please, more.'
Sucking on those nipples, rolling them over his tongue, he slid a hand down the sensuous contours of her body. Her legs spread as wide as she could get them.
She gasped when his fingertip found her clitoris. 'No…no entering…but maybe…'
'I know. No sinking them inside, as deep as I can get them. No touching you all the way to your soul. No becoming one being rather than two. No feeling your inner walls spasm around me.'
She gripped his shoulders, nails sharp. Her head thrashed from side to side as if she were imagining all that he said. Her eyelids squeezed together, and her white teeth tortured her bottom lip.
Sweet heaven, she was so wet she drenched his hand.
'I hate my curse,' she croaked.
'I hate it, too. I hate my own curse. But if it is what brought me to you, I will gladly bear both for eternity.' He rubbed her, circling quickly, then slowing when she was close to climax, letting her calm, then quickening again.
Only when she was out of her mind, screaming with the force of her need, shouting his name, begging, pleading, desperate, did he give her release. Her body jerked. Her hands dug into him with so much force his bones would have snapped if he'd been human.
All the while, Lucien watched her face. The way her lips parted and her breath turned shallow. The way sublime pleasure and ultimate satisfaction blanketed her expression. The way her eyelids popped open with wonder, as if she could see stars around her.
When she stilled, he laid his head on her breast, listening to her racing heartbeat. Her skin was slick with sweat and passion. He was ready to explode, but he didn't want to ruin this moment.
She flipped him to his back, however, and smiled down at him. 'Now I'll show you how bad I can be.' She reached between her legs and wet her hand with her own juices, and then she gripped his shaft.
Up and down she pumped, a smooth glide that drove him wild. Reaching back, he gripped the headboard and tried to hold himself steady. He had been aroused so many times over the past week, his body was practically weeping with relief as she worked him.
Her fingers slid over the head of his penis with each upward slide, squeezing and teasing. 'Anya,' he panted.
'Mmm, I see what you mean about the name thing.' As she spoke, her other hand pulled at his testicles. 'I like it. Say mine again.'
'Anya, I'm going to…going to…'
'Do it. Come for me. I want to see.'
His hips lifted. 'Don't stop. Don't stop.'
'I won't. Give me,' she purred. Her hand went so far down on his shaft, he couldn't hold the pleasure back a moment more.
He tensed, hot seed shooting from his shaft and onto the ropes of his stomach. He roared and roared and roared. 'Anya!'
'More.' Her hand continued to ride him. 'Everything. Every drop.'
His muscles were tensing, relaxing, tensing, relaxing. His hips were as far off the bed as possible, his heels digging into the mattress. He would have thought it impossible, but he spurted again, his mind shooting into a winking black hole that sucked him under with wave after wave of pleasure.
'Good, so good,' she praised.
Finally spent, he collapsed. She cleaned him off with a towel before crawling up his body and settling into his side. He wound his arms around her, holding her captive.
True. He opened his mouth to demand she tell him about the key, but the words refused to form as she snuggled closer, closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.
She'd tried to resist, tried to keep him at a distance. But he'd just been so damned passionate, possessive and irresistible. His jealousy toward William…Gods, she could have had an orgasm just watching Lucien struggle with it.
She'd tried to pretend Lucien meant nothing to her, saying horrible things she'd had to rip out of her mouth just in case Cronus the Voyeur had been watching, but she'd been unable to walk away when Lucien told her to choose her place of pleasure.
After what had happened in this bed, she no longer knew what to do about Cronus or how to throw him off the scent of her true desire for Lucien. There'd be no denying it now. Part of her was glad. She couldn't hurt Lucien again, she just couldn't. Over the past week he had somehow become important to her—someone to cherish.
Lucien stirred in her arms, grumbling, before he bolted upright and frowned.
She frowned back. 'What's wrong?'
'I'm being summoned,' he said groggily.
He didn't wait for her response; he simply disappeared. Panic infused her as half an hour dragged by and he failed to return. Had souls summoned him or had Cronus? Should she go looking for him? Where the hell should she even start—
Suddenly Lucien appeared, healthy and whole, and curled beside her. His delicious heat surrounded her as he closed his eyes and sighed. 'Foolish souls,' he muttered. He didn't sound groggy anymore; he sounded sorrowful. A bit upset. 'Why do they fight?'
Relieved, she relaxed against him and traced hearts all over his chest. The few times she'd watched him do his escort duties, he had finished in minutes. She'd wanted to know what had taken him so long tonight, and now she could guess. There'd been a lot of dead people. 'Give me a little warning next time, and I'll go with you.'
He opened his eyes to study her. 'Why would you want to visit hell?'
'Not fun, I promise you.' He traced a path up and down her arm, and she saw a cut healing on his wrist.
Had one of the spirits injured him? If so, they were lucky they were already dead. 'Just take me. Okay? Please, please, please with a cherry on top of me. I want to go.'
His palm settled over her breast, and he kissed the mark he'd left on her neck. 'Take you. Mmm, I like the sound of that.' His cock swelled and pressed against her clitoris.
Moaning, she opened her legs. 'That's not what I meant, but I like where your head's at. Literally.'
He chuckled and proceeded to 'take her' over the edge of satisfaction. Only later did she realize he had never answered her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
PARIS SLOWLY CRACKED OPEN his eyelids. They were heavy, as if boulders held them down. His mouth was dry and stale, as if something had died inside it, and his skin was itchy. His ankles and wrists were encased in something cold and heavy.
