her in a cerulean halo. She could feel the heat of it invading every inch of her needy body, blanketing her.
'You're wet,' he said.
The reverence in his tone stroked her as expertly as a caress, and she shivered. 'Yes.'
'You want me.'
'Yes.'
'What do you want me to do to you?' As he spoke, he gripped the waist of his pants and slid the material down…down…then stepped out of them, leaving him bare.
'I—I—' Dear gods. His raw masculinity enthralled her. He was lean, yet so muscled he could probably have crushed her with his strength. There was no hair on his body, just mile after mile of perfect skin and sinew. His cock was long and thick—mine—and his testicles were drawn up tightly, heavy and proud.
'Like what you see?' he asked huskily, almost sounding drugged.
Unable to speak past the heated breath blistering her throat, she nodded. The length of her hair tickled her now sensitized skin, her beaded nipples, and she tore her gaze from Layel to study herself. To see what he saw. A thick blue lock of hair was curled around one hard, pink tip, stroking lovingly with the breeze. Her stomach was flat, her thighs firm and tattooed, quivering.
'Look at me,' he commanded.
She did. Oh, gods, she did. Need was like a storm inside her, his every command hers to fulfill. Here was everything she'd ever wanted, dreamed about, craved, offered to her on a night of moonlight and bliss, starlight and dreams.
'What do you want me to do to you, Delilah?'
Took some coaxing, but she finally found her voice. 'Touch me.' A broken plea.
'Where?' He fisted his cock and moved up, down, in a measured stroke.
I want to be the one to pleasure you. 'Everywhere.'
'You asked me before what evil things I had done, if I had killed a woman.'
Her gaze snapped up, clashed with his. 'That—' hardly matters now, she was unable to say.
'Not only did I slay Marina, I slayed the wife of a dragon,' he interjected. 'He was there…that night…he was there. He escaped before I could take his heart and hack it to bits. But I followed him. I watched him. He had a family. A wife, a child.'
'Layel—' She made to sit up but he was suddenly on top of her, pushing her back into the moss, his knees pinning her shoulders, his cock rising just in front of her face. She yelped in surprise, but didn't protest. She simply peered up at him, silent, beckoning him to finish. For he had sounded torn, part of him thinking—hoping—she would reject him, part of him…afraid? Afraid that he would die if she did? 'Tell me.'
His eyes glazed with the darkness of his memories, a darkness still infused with passion. 'I was infuriated. Crazed. The bastard had violated my woman, had laughed while she screamed and fought and then returned to his own woman for comfort.'
Delilah bowed her wrists and caressed as much of his thighs as she could, offering her own comfort.
His fangs lengthened, sharpened.
'And?' she prompted softly.
'I snuck inside his home that night. I drank from the two of them to weaken them and then I tied them up. I meant to take her, use her, as he had done—as he—' Layel drew in a labored breath, released it. 'But I couldn't. She was crying, pleading. So I killed her instead, right in front of him. I didn't give him the same courtesy, though. I dragged him back to my palace and locked him up, letting him live with the image of what he'd done, what I'd done.'
As Layel had had to do, she thought, aching for him.
'But as the days continued to pass, his life…offended me. I couldn't tolerate breathing the same air as him. So I called my people forward and let them drink from him, tear him limb from limb, his screams of agony in my ears. I laughed, but his pain wasn't enough, not nearly enough.'
'I'm sorry.'
'I burned him until there was nothing left but bones. And then I used those bones to make my throne, and every time I sit on it—him, all of them responsible—I pray he is rotting in Hades.'
When his words faded, silence enveloped them, laden with tension.
'Do you still desire me? Do you still want such evil inside of you?' Again he sounded as if he was at war with himself, wanting two different things from her. Exactly as she had felt when she'd first met him.
'You're not evil. But, yes, I do.' And that was the truth. She wouldn't have thought it possible to desire him more, but she did. The fierceness of him, the darkness…they called to her, drew her. They represented the very thing she'd always craved for herself: to be loved so inexorably, no act was too vile when it came protecting her—or avenging her.
But because of that ferocity, Layel would never be an easy man. He would always be brutal, savage. He was conflicted and complex, hurt and broken, would probably never be whole. He wasn't misunderstood, and there could be no deluding herself about who and what he was. There was no denying he'd done an evil thing. Many evil things.
'Yes,' she repeated, confident. 'Yes. I still want you inside of me.'
He jerked as if she'd punched him. Not the reaction she'd expected. 'What did you say?'
'I still want to be with you. Release my arms now. Please. I need to touch you, Layel.'
A play of emotions danced over his features. The same bombardment she had experienced earlier, a combination of a thousand different feelings, both wonderful and terrible. 'You…want to touch me still?'
'More than anything I've ever wanted before.'
As if he feared moving too quickly, he gradually moved down her body until his knees straddled her waist. Shoulders finally free, she reached up and flattened her palms on his powerful thighs.
The muscles underneath jumped.
'I love the feel of you,' she whispered.
'Delilah,' he said, and it was a broken cry. 'I will be careful with you.' It was a vow. 'Tonight I will be careful. You will experience nothing but pleasure.'
She studied him through the thick fan of her lashes, shadows twining around him like midnight phantoms who meant to carry him away. 'I don't want you careful. I want you inside me, hard and demanding.'
He leaned down, this beautiful dark warrior, and laved at her neck, his tongue a hot brand. 'You are so lovely. So strong and brave.'
'Again,' she gasped, hips arching. 'Lick again.'
While he obeyed, his body covered hers, his legs between hers, his cock rubbing against her belly. She rocked into him as he palmed one of her breasts, unable to remain still. The pleasure was simply too great. 'Good?'
'Yes.'
'I could lick you forever. Want to lick all your tattoos.' His mouth soon replaced his fingers and he sucked her nipple gently, so gently. 'What do they mean?'
'Victory.'
He chuckled softly, and she shuddered at the exquisite bliss the sound wrought. 'Should have known,' he said. 'Tell me if I do something you don't like. It's been a long time for me.'
Heat was building inside her, a fire her blood could not seem to put out, only seemed to incite as it rushed through her veins. The fire raged like a warrior, insistent, sure, strong. She could not fight it, didn't want to fight it. Only wanted to be consumed by the flames.
'More,' she begged.
Still unhurried, he moved to her other breast, gave it the same hot, moist attention. Her hips writhed, riding wave after wave of sensation. Layel kissed just above her heart, as if trying to absorb the beat. One of his hands glided down her stomach, swirled around her navel, then dabbled at the small tuft of hair between her legs.
'Yes, yes. Touch there.'
'Like?'
'Like. More.' She clutched his back, nails scoring deep. 'Will you…Can you…Please. Hurry.'
Two of his fingers slid between her hot, aching lips and straight into her core. A groan of ecstasy burst from her. In and out. Another finger joined the play. She was stretched in the most delicious way.
'So very wet,' he praised.
