Kiss of a Demon King

fire.

'Do you know how bad I've wanted to taste you?' When he licked his lips, she almost whimpered. 'Mouthwatering,' he rasped. 'So beautiful.' Again, his voice sounded unfamiliar.

He bent down and nuzzled her curls, making her cry out. Then he brushed his mouth against her sensitive lips, his breath hot on her.

She drew her knees up around him. 'Rydstrom! Ah, gods ... do it!'

'Do what?' He spread her flesh with his thumbs.

'Taste me ... kiss me,' she breathed.

When his tongue first dipped to her, he groaned against her so hard, she felt it. She moaned with abandon.

Pressing his mouth to her core, he delved his tongue, licking her deeply, thoroughly. He was making her melt for him . . . exploring her with his lips, his fingers- nothing was sacred.

Never had she been kissed like this.

'Your taste . . . drives me mad,' he snarled with a firm lick over her throbbing clitoris. His tongue snaked over it again and again, without mercy, until she was helplessly undulating to his mouth. Getting close . . . so close.

She could see he'd begun pumping his fist over his shaft, the gold band on his bulging bicep glimmering with his movements. The rhythm grew more furious with each flick of his clever tongue.

The demon was wild with her. The corded muscles of his body visibly tensed for his orgasm. He growled against her just before his semen began lashing over her hip.

'Hot. It's so hot,' she gasped, on the brink of release herself.

But once he'd finally finished spending, he drew his head up from her. She gazed at him, realizing he was pleased that she'd watched him come, excited by that.

With a satisfied groan, he collapsed onto his back. As she watched his penis still pulsing over his rigid stomach, she hungered for it, shamelessly rolling her hips for it.

Had she actually wanted to forego sex? Now she was desperate for another try.

As soon as he'd caught his breath, he said, 'Back to the business at hand,' repeating her words from the first night she'd captured him. He leaned down to her once more. 'I could do this all night. Think I will...'

'Yes!' He began devouring her again. 'More,' she moaned, going out of her head. Just when she was about to come, he pulled back.

'No, no, no.' She stamped her feet. In a gasping voice, she said, 'You are seriously . . . making me . . . want to kill you!'

'Uh-huh.' He leisurely grazed the backs of his fingers all along her body, making her shiver. Just when her breaths had calmed somewhat, and she'd closed her legs, he said, 'Wider.'

Gritting her teeth, staring at the branches above, she let her knees fall open.

For hour after hour, Rydstrom kept her on the brink. He'd come twice more, but then he'd begun to pace himself, determined to outlast her.

He'd never seen a woman in this kind of frenzy. Her head thrashed, her mane of red hair drying and spread­ ing out over the blanket. Her nipples strained up to the sky as her back arched.

Illusions of flames burned all around them.

Withholding her pleasure was punishing for him as well-it took all his will to disobey the driving instinct to sate his female. But her reaction also excited the hell out of him.

Yet she wouldn't break. Though he ached to mount her pale body, to ride her relentlessly, this was a battle of wills, and he simply didn't lose them....

By the time the moon had begun to set, she was panting, her body sheening with sweat. Her nipples were puckered and swollen.

As he lay beside her, she earnestly gazed into his eyes, whispering, 'J-Just hold me, demon. I can move against you.'

The image her words conjured made him want to groan. Him clasping her little body tight, with her rubbing her sex against his shaft-until she quivered in his arms....

He bent down and swirled his tongue around one of her nipples, murmuring against it, 'Beg for me, sweet. And I'll make you come till your eyes roll back in your head.'

'Never!' She thrashed her head, crying, 'You don't understand-'

'Don't I?' he grated, sitting up.

Arms still tied above her, she collapsed over on her side, her small body trembling, her knees drawn to her chest. While he watched, her eyelids fluttered closed as she finally passed out in exhaustion.

It was still dark when she woke. She was alone on the pallet, with no idea how long she'd been out. She frowned down at her body. He'd released her from the tree and cleaned her?

When she glanced up, she found him naked, lean­ing back against a boulder, his arm on his raised knee. He was watching her with an inscrutable expression. Though he was still demonic, it was fading, his obsidian eyes not so frenzied.

She'd never forget the possessiveness in his gaze tonight. Shivers coursed over her skin when she recalled the pure masculine pride on his face when he'd realized she'd watched him spending.

He stood then, a magnificent male in the flesh-with a body made for sex. The demon belonged out here in the harsh wilderness, a being from myth, a male from legend.

And he was her husband.

When he joined her on the pallet, her body was still aching, but she was too exhausted even to contemplate

release. He drew her to his chest, then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him.

She stiffened at the unfamiliar embrace, realizing he meant for them to sleep together. Like this.

But when he rubbed his face against hers, her eyelids grew heavy. He was shockingly warm against her as he kissed her neck, her ear. His touches were tender again. It was as if he regretted that she hurt, even as he was the one punishing her. Gods, the demon confused her!

Though he hadn't released her hands, she could still cast scenes from her dreams. Right now, she would give her finest headdress for a stay-awake potion from the Hag. The idea of Rydstrom knowing her private thoughts, her memories....

Sabine worried what this demon would think about her past if it were laid bare for him to see. She didn't want him judging her, or worse pitying her. Her mother used to say, 'Gods give me anything but a good man's pity.'

Yes, Sabine was anxious, but her muscles were sore, and his body felt so incredibly good against hers. Warm, hard ... safe.

Don't dream . . . don't dream. . . .

Sabine drifted off once more, and then she slept like the dead.

25

 Heat it, stroke it, beat and grow it. Rub it, twist it, love and kiss it. . .' Rydstrom shot upright, woken by a woman's eerie

chanting.

He gazed over at Sabine, but she slept still, her eyes darting behind her lids. He was forced to leave her as he sprinted toward the sound.

'Gold is life . . . it is perfection,' said the woman. Her laughter followed.

When he seemed to reach the source, he swung his head around.