He gazed up to gauge her reaction. Her hands had found her lush br**sts and started to squeeze. Her expression was lost. When the breeze blew, she arched her back, her ni**les stiffening even more.

He rubbed his palms up her thighs, pressing her legs even wider. As he gave her seeking licks, she thumbed those stiff ni**les, the peaks he would soon suckle at his leisure.

His hips had begun rocking, his erection hanging down like a steel rod. The pressure within it surged. Even still, his lips curled against her. Because Melanthe seemed to be going out of her head with pleasure.

He was as well. How could he not when her flaring folds grew ever wetter against his tongue?

Between kisses, he murmured, “Lanthe, I can’t ever go back.”

To life without her. Without sharing this.

She curled one arm under her head like a pillow. Her free hand descended down her flat belly, her palm curving over her mons. Brows drawn, he pulled back, his breaths ragged against her rosy flesh.

She caught his eyes, then grazed the pad of her forefinger over the little bud at the apex of her sex. “If you lick my clitoris like this . . .” She slowly masturbated it, rubbing back and forth as her tongue moistened her lips.

Telling him how she wished to be kissed.

Then her hand wandered back to her chest, to ni**les so hard they looked like they throbbed.

He eagerly leaned in, tonguing her clitoris as she’d instructed.

“Yes, Thronos! Just like that,” she cried out, earning herself another slick lash. “Now your finger. Put it back inside me while you kiss.”

He penetrated the gripping heat of her channel, thrusting his finger in and out as he licked.

“Ah! It’s so good!” She reached forward to grasp his horns.

At the contact, he yelled out against her.

She released him as if burned. “Sorry.”

Sorry? The idea of her handling him was unbearably erotic. “Take hold of me again!”

Once she tentatively did, he quaked from her grip, assailed by the same currents that sparked whenever their skin touched. Voice low, he commanded her, “Stroke them while I feast.”

In a wondering tone, she breathed, “Who—are—you?” But she dutifully rubbed her fists, slaying him with pleasure.

Stroking him thus made her even wetter! He growled and lapped. “You like that too.” It wasn’t a question.

“More,” she panted, rubbing him faster.

His light licks grew fiercer. As her little bud swelled for him, he groaned with amazement. Maybe I should . . .

He suckled her clitoris between his lips—

“Oh, my gods!” she screamed, tearing an answering yell from his lungs.

When she bucked for more, he almost came. He started sucking on her bud like a luscious candy, his groans vibrating it.

She went crazy, her head thrashing, her br**sts quivering. She made a string of insensible sounds, then managed: “Don’t stop that, Thronos. So close! Oh. OHH!”

Pride. It’s happening.

She ground against his mouth, moaning, “You’re about to make me come . . . so hard . . . for you.”

Her movements—her words—made his shaft jerk, threatening release. He’d just felt her sheath tighten around his finger when she keened with ecstasy; sorcery shot from her eyes and hands, enough to light a night sky.

As soon as he tasted her orgasm . . . thought left his brain.

THIRTY-SIX

Lanthe gasped on a final, bone-melting spasm. She’d never loosed sorcery like that!

Probably because she’d never had such a cataclysmic orgasm.

He’d suckled her so divinely, penetrating her so deeply . . . but it was more.

It’s Thronos. It’s all him.

Yet he kept licking her too-sensitive flesh, continuing to finger her. When she tugged on his horns to pry him away, he shook his head, so she pulled harder. He nipped her thigh in warning!

Heaving breaths through his slickened lips, he grated, “Not done with you, woman.” Then he set back in.

“I can’t! Not so . . . soon . . .” She trailed off—because his strong tongue was licking her into submission. His mouth was conquering.

Soon she’d reach a point where he could do anything to her.

And Lanthe thought he knew it.

She rose on her elbows again, watching in bewilderment as his eyes turned to full black. Maybe she oughtn’t to have wished for a demon lover? “Thronos?” She swallowed with trepidation and desire. Was Feveris bringing out their most primal selves?

When his remaining claws seized her ass, lifting her to his mouth, her head fell back into the flowers. With a savage growl, he buried his face between her thighs, tonguing her furiously.

“Oh! Ohhh!” Her control gone, she arched her back like a total wanton. “Yes, Thronos!” With each of his ruthless licks, sorcery filled her again. Swirls of it tickled her skin and caressed her face. She tightened her grip on his horns, about to come for this male. Again.

For Thronos Talos.

Shameless, she snatched down on his horns as she bucked upward.

It was as if she’d lashed him with a whip.

She could barely hang on as his head moved, thrashing back and forth as he licked, a wild demon maddened with lust.

Lanthe wanted to savor his abandon, to remember this forever, but she couldn’t fight her mounting orgasm.

“Don’t stop, need to come . . .”

He growled between her legs, “Yes, yes, give me more of it.” Then he set back in—

Rapture crashed into her. The force of it wrenched the air from her lungs. She caught her breath just to lose it again on a desperate scream. “Thronos!” Her body writhed, her vision blurring. With each spasm, her sheath squeezed his thrusting finger.