The Darkest Surrender

“No. It’s just…do you remember when I said I didn’t want you hurt? Well, I meant, I didn’t want to accidentally hurt you. So you’ll just…damn it, you’ll need a safe word.” Her chest heaved with the force of her breathing. “I’m sorry.”

Baffled, he paused. “Me? I’ll need a safe word?” And she hadn’t been afraid he’d fail, only that she’d injure him. He nearly grinned. Already this was the best sexual experience of his life.

She nodded, unsure. “Are you okay with that?”

Delectable female. His gaze lowered to the gap in her shorts. White panties. Lace. Nice. “How about a safe phrase? Mine will be ‘someone’s out there.’” He didn’t wait for her reply, but dropped to his knees.

“Oh, gods.” Her belly quivered. “Okay, yes, okay. Gods, I’m repeating myself, but that works.”

His gaze locked on the shadow of red beneath the lace and his mouth watered. He leaned in and nuzzled her with his nose, inhaling the sweet scent of female.

“Oh, gods,” she said again. “You—you’ll be the best, Strider, you don’t have to worry. Okay? I know it.”

Just then he wasn’t worried about anything; his mind was locked on her and only her. On learning her taste, hearing her beg for more, feeling her clutching at him, maybe pulling at his hair.

He forced her legs to part as far as they could with the shorts restricting her movements. Unmindful of her panties, he pressed the tip of his tongue against the heart of her, the heat. Pressed harder. Gods, he could already taste her and he’d never liked anything more.

The ache in his cock intensified, nearly unbearable. Damn. How good would it feel if he reached down, curled his fingers around his shaft, stroked up and down while burying his face between her legs?

He was reaching down before he realized he’d moved. Damn it. He gripped her thighs. He’d have to blank his mind, perform but remain distanced. Only when he’d beaten Paris could he consider his own pleasure.

Strider flicked his tongue over the tight bud of her clitoris.

“Oh, gods, yes,” she gasped out.

No need to force his mind to blank. Her pleasured cry short-circuited his thoughts. Satisfied, he wanted her satisfied. Damp, her panties were damp, but he wanted them soaking.

Next his tongue traced lazy circles around her heated center, swiped back and forth, up and down, hitting her from every possible angle. When she began arching her hips to meet him, he caressed his hands up and down her calves, her thighs, then under her shorts. Such soft, smooth skin…so damn warm.

Though he wanted to tunnel his hands up, higher, thrust his fingers inside her, he merely teased her with the possibility, his tongue never ceasing its assault, and finally, sweetly, she gripped the back of his head and held his mouth firmly against her. She was panting, sheened with perspiration.

“I need…I have to have…” She ground him where she needed him most. “Strider!” she screamed as she came.

One down, four to go.

He stood to shaky legs. Without a word, he spun her, forcing her to face the wall. His cock rubbed against her ass and he sucked in a ragged breath. His fingers glided around, sliding under her shorts, inside her panties. Contact. Skin to hot, wet female core, and oh, sweet heaven, she felt exquisite.

A groan slipped from her. Her back arched. Her arms lifted and then her nails were scraping through his hair. He rubbed her swollen little clitoris before inserting one finger deep inside her inner sheath, moving it in and out, in and out, inserting a second finger, moving them in and out, in and out, until she once again writhed against him, desperate for release.

“Strider, I need, I need…”

“I know, baby doll.” He gave her a third finger, stretching her. With his free hand, he reached up and cupped one of her breasts. A perfect handful. Her nipple was beaded, probably aching. He pinched. She gasped. The sound affected him, drove his own need higher. “How am I doing?”

“The best. No one better. Please.”

He couldn’t help himself, had to have concentrated contact. He jerked her hips backward, slamming the crease of her ass against his erection, the perfect cradle, and as she moaned, he slowed the thrust of his fingers. Within seconds, her hips began pumping harder, faster, urging him to keep the rhythm. He didn’t. He slowed a bit more.

Soon she couldn’t quite catch her breath, was panting shallowly, raggedly. Her skin heated another degree, almost burning through his clothes. It hurt, but damn, it hurt so good. Especially when her nails sank deep into his scalp, drawing blood. Then every muscle in her body clamped down, her bones vibrating. Again she screamed his name. This time, a second voice was layered over hers, raspier, almost purring, and he knew her Harpy was right there with her, enjoying.

Two down, three to go.

“Strider, let me…suck on you…you have to be…hurting.”

Damn, but he wanted to take her up on the decadent offer. He bit his tongue until he tasted blood. Yeah, he was hurting, but he’d hurt a hell of a lot more if he failed to do this right. “Not yet.”

“Please…”

Gods, she was going to kill him.

HE WAS GOING TO KILL HER.

Kaia’s legs were trembling, barely able to hold her up. Her blood had reached the point of boiling and she’d long since melted inside. And yet, she couldn’t get enough of Strider. He’d given her an orgasm and she’d immediately craved another. He’d given her another, and still she craved.

If she felt that way, how must he be feeling? On fire? Ready to burst? Damn it, she wanted him to enjoy their time together, not suffer through it.

Dizziness consumed her when he spun her back around. He didn’t give her a chance to speak or recover; he simply meshed their mouths together, his tongue thrusting inside the way she wanted his cock to do. When he cupped her ass and lifted her, she had to wind her legs around his waist for balance. The moment she did, he pressed, hard, and the long, thick length of his erection hit her dead center.

She moaned. He groaned.

He never stopped feeding her that kiss. It was sweet, it was torture; it was wonderfully debauched and erotic and affected her all the way to her soul, and oh, gods above she was coming, again, before she could work her hand between them and fist his erection.

“You’re beautiful when you climax,” he said fiercely, his voice strained. “Two more times, baby doll, okay?”

He didn’t understand. How could she make him understand? The number of orgasms didn’t matter. Not with him. The fact that Strider was kissing her, Strider was touching her, Strider was pleasing her, was enough. No experience would ever be better than this.

She had to make him understand.

Kaia’s legs were boneless as she forced them to the ground. He pressed her back into the crystal wall—so cold—and cupped her breasts, squeezing. Lines of tension branched from his mouth. His swollen, still moist mouth.

She wrapped her fingers around his wrists, applying so much pressure he would not be able to move without experiencing a twinge of pain. His gaze shot up, meeting hers. Those navy blues were glazed, hungry.

Now that she had his attention, she flung him to the side and danced in front of him, switching their positions. Her claws ripped at his jeans. The material was damp where she’d rubbed against him.

“What are—” The question ended on a hoarse moan when her fingers whispered along his flesh. His hot, needy flesh. “Kaia, don’t…you can’t—damn it, baby! Do it, please.”

She’d already moved to her knees. Now, she sucked him deep, all the way to the back of her throat. His fingers tangled in her hair. Maybe he’d meant to jerk her away from him, but as she lifted her head, sucking harder, laving her tongue over the thick vein riding the length of him, he merely massaged her scalp, gentle, tender, as if afraid to tug the strands. “Baby…sweetheart…please.” He was pumping his hips in tune with her mouth, in and out, in and out, still trying to be gentle and slow when his body clearly craved hard and fast.

Even though she enjoyed pleasuring him like this as much as he enjoyed being on the receiving end, his earlier doubts played through her mind, taking root inside her. What if the number of orgasms did, in fact, matter to