Claimed by a Demon King (12 page)

Read Claimed by a Demon King Online

Authors: Felicity Heaton

BOOK: Claimed by a Demon King
6.35Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Sable stared at her bandaged wrist.

Tonight was going to be a challenge and she would sooner face a legion of demons than stand in a room filled with people staring at her, and with two men who both wanted her and were willing to kill the other to possess her.

Sable groaned and closed her eyes.

She blanked her mind and waited for sleep to take her.

When it did, Thorne was waiting for her.

CHAPTER 7

T
horne was dreaming, but it was more than a dream. It was vivid. Real.

Sable lay stretched out on the huge four-poster bed before him, dressed only in the tiny black shorts she had worn when he had visited her and a matching black cotton bra. The simple underwear was erotic on her, arousing him to the point of pain. She writhed on the tawny furs, shifting sensually, a wicked dance designed to tempt him.

He stood at the foot of the bed and had been for the past five minutes or longer, watching her as she wriggled, drawing deep lungfuls of the sweet scent of her desire, drinking in the way she was looking at him as if she was on fire and only he could quench the flames.

She wanted him.

Here in this vision, she was his.

Her golden eyes implored him and her fingers tangled in the long silken black threads of her hair. She brought her knees together and swayed them side-to-side, rubbing her thighs together and entrancing him until he couldn’t tear his gaze from them. She parted her legs then, slowly revealing the black cotton hiding her feminine core from his hungry eyes. His chest heaved and his horns curled, desire getting the better of him, driving him to bring his knee up onto the bed to mount it and cover her delicious, soft body with his.

Sable closed her legs, shutting them tight, stealing Heaven from view.

His heart pounded a tribal beat against his chest, a rhythm that grew in pace as she swayed her knees and gradually parted them to reveal herself again.

He growled.

Her eyes flashed with hunger in response and she licked her lips.

Wicked female.

She had never been like this in his dreams and he knew why.

She had never slept at the same time as him before. They had never shared the same vision. He had only been able to imagine what his fated one would be like, and what he had envisaged hadn’t come close to reality.

She was everything he had dreamed and so much more.

Sable crooked her finger at him and he was a slave at her command.

Thorne unlaced his white shirt and pulled it over his head. Sable sucked in a sharp breath and he looked at her, catching the dark edge of desire in her gaze as it roamed his body, heating him wherever it caressed and lingered.

He drew in his own deep breath to steady himself and dropped his shirt. He stood before her, giving her time to rake her eyes over him, to study his body as he studied hers, enjoying the way desire flickered in her fiery gaze. She wanted him.

He wanted her.

Never more so than this time.

He had dreamed of her every night without fail over the past lunar cycle, and what he lacked in experience in reality, he had in abundance here in his dreams.

He would possess her, would bend his strong, beautiful female to his will, and he would claim her, and she would know that she belonged to him, body and soul.

His forever.

She would want no other.

He would see to it.

Thorne tugged the laces on his leather trousers and Sable’s hungry gaze fell to his hands. She followed every move he made, her absorbed look bringing his nerves to the fore. He squashed them, reminding himself that this was a vision, not reality. Here in this dream, he was master, he was king, and his little vixen would know it.

He shoved his leathers down and her moan made his heart hitch and slam against his chest, and his length pulse with want.

Sable moved onto her knees before him and he groaned this time, the sight of her petite behind hugged by black cotton too much for him to bear.

She crawled towards him, reached out and stroked a single finger down the length of his engorged shaft. Thorne hissed through his teeth and tilted his head back, every muscle tensing as her caress scalded him.

She ran her finger back up, slowly encircling his shaft with her hand as she moved, and rubbed her thumb over the blunt head.

Thorne couldn’t take it.

He dropped his head, grasped the back of her neck and dragged her up to him. She pressed against his chest, her naked flesh searing his, and moaned as he claimed her lips in a fierce, demanding kiss. Her hands settled against his pectorals and then slid upwards, coming to grasp his shoulders, fingers kneading and nails pressing in as he deepened the kiss. Their tongues tangled and he drove his into her mouth, unwilling to let her seize control.

She would know that she belonged to him.

Thorne pulled her closer. Instinct made him hold back even though he couldn’t hurt her in their dreams. Sable didn’t seem to care that his strength could so easily injure her.

She clawed his shoulders and groaned into his mouth, her hot tongue probing his, teasing him to the brink of madness.

Thorne growled, caught her shoulders and pushed her backwards. She fell onto the bed on her back. Her wide eyes slowly narrowed, heated desire colouring their golden depths, calling to him. His roughness had only increased her arousal. He groaned now, the thought that she wanted him to be rough with her, to be dominant, sparking every instinct he had. It was impossible to ignore them.

Not when she was daring him to let go and unleash his desire.

He shoved his trousers off and kicked them away, and she moaned as he mounted the bed. He crawled towards her and she wriggled backwards, a wicked smile curving her kiss-swollen lips. He made them his target, staring hard at them as he caught her ankle and yanked her down the bed to him. She squealed and he caught the rest of it in his kiss. Her lips played hard with his, goading him. She was trying to make him play rougher.

Thorne groaned again and gave her what she desired, kissing her so hard that he forced her down against the bed. She moaned and nipped at his lower lip with her blunt teeth. He grunted as a spear of lightning bolted through him and growled as he lost himself in the kiss. He grasped her wrists and pinned her arms above her head, shoving them hard against the soft furs.

Sable moaned low, the sound profoundly wanton. His length pulsed in response, jerking against his stomach. She arched into him and her body pressed into his, wrecking his concentration. He pulled back and stared down at her, lost in how she rocked against him, her slender body rubbing against his stomach.

“Thorne,” she whispered and he was more than lost.

The sound of her uttering his name in a passion-drenched plea drove every instinct he had as a demon male to the fore.

His female needed him.

She needed release and he would give it to her.

Thorne released one of her hands and tore her black cotton bra from her, unleashing her breasts. They jiggled from the force of his actions and he swooped on one pebbled dusky nipple, pulling it hard into his mouth. Sable jerked against him and cried out, the sound of her pleasure filling the room and driving him on. He sucked hard on the pearly bud, tearing another cry of bliss from his female. She arched into him, hips rocking wildly, her actions seemingly beyond her control as she sought more pleasure to bring about her release.

He groaned against her breast and kissed downwards, his instincts screaming at him to satisfy her and end her torment, to give her the ecstasy she craved and give it to himself at the same time.

She wriggled and writhed, a frantic edge to her movements. “Thorne.”

His horns curled, twisting over and flaring forwards. She moaned and he looked up to find her staring at him, or more specifically his horns.

His female brought out the demon in him, and she liked it.

He bared his fangs and growled as he shredded her panties with his claws, tearing the material from her flesh. She breathed harder, chest heaving, her breasts jutting upwards and calling him back to them. Gods, he needed her.

“Sable,” he muttered and stared deep into her eyes, fighting the change as it came over him. She liked him in this state, driven wild by her, with his fangs, claws and horns on show and his eyes blazing scarlet, but she wouldn’t like it if he lost control and changed completely, his wings unfurling and his body growing in size.

Sable grinned wickedly and the next few seconds were a blur as she got her legs between them, wrapped them around his neck and twisted at the middle, slamming him into his back.

Thorne stared up at her, basking in her victorious smile and her strength, and then inched his gaze downwards. Heaven.

She sat on his chest, her knees either side of his horns, a wicked goddess within his reach yet too distant at the same time.

He planted his hands on her backside and shoved her towards him. She arched and cried out as his tongue speared her soft folds and found her moist centre. She tasted delicious, ambrosia of the gods, and he wanted to feast on her until she cried his name and shattered into a thousand pieces.

He licked her and swirled his tongue around her pert nub, loving how she writhed and rocked, undulating her hips and riding his face. His female was wicked, strong, commanding. He couldn’t understand why many of his kind wanted soft females. His was a goddess and the way she warred with him, the way she made him fight her for control, thrilled him.

Sable grabbed him by the horns and shoved his head hard against the mattress. She rose off him, her eyes flashing wickedly as she held him fast. He groaned as she softened her grip and stroked his horns, sending fire burning through every inch of him and ratcheting up his need for her.

She leaned down and he thought she would kiss him, craned his neck to reach her lips, but she diverted course. Her cheek pressed against his and she clutched his horns, keeping him from moving.

“You think I’m just going to lie down and let you have me?” she whispered into the shell of his ear, a husky murmur that only made him burn hotter. “You don’t know me.”

He didn’t, he knew that, but he wanted to know her. He wanted to know what she loved and what she hated. He wanted to know everything about his future queen.

He wanted to know this in reality.

Would she be as wicked with him there? Would she be as wild and enthralling? Would she fight him for dominance as he claimed her?

He hoped so.

He loved how wild and rough she was in this vision, and how she sought to overpower him and have him at her mercy.

She nipped the pointed tip of his ear and he growled. He tried to get up, to roll her over and show her that he was determined to have her, but she shoved her hands against his chest and pushed all her weight down onto him, pinning him to the bed.

“You’re going to lie down and let me have you,” she murmured into his ear and licked the lobe.

Gods.

Thorne’s desire to resist burned away and he could only obey her as she rose off him again, her fall of black hair cascading over her bare breasts. Her nipples poked through the inky strands, taunting him as she shuffled backwards. She raked her nails over his chest, ripping another moan from him and making his horns curl further and his claws grow sharper. Much more of that and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from changing completely.

He wasn’t sure he could stop himself now.

She meant to mount him.

In all of his dreams of her, he had been on top or behind her, in control.

She was nothing as he had thought she would be, and he loved it.

Her heat brushed his hard length and he fisted the furs, groaning as she brought them into contact. She rubbed herself up and down, coating him in her warm wetness. Every inch of him tensed as he clutched the bed, fighting for control, going mad from anticipation.

Sable smiled wickedly again and raked her nails over his stomach muscles. She purred low in her throat, the sound of her approval making his cock jerk beneath her, and her purr became a moan. Her gaze turned hooded and she rocked against him again, killing him slowly with each stroke of her slick heat. He couldn’t take it.

“Sable,” he whispered, a plea to her this time.

She took mercy on him and rose onto her knees, and he hissed as she grasped his length.

She positioned it beneath her and inched backwards, and his hands shot to her hips as she took him into her, slowly, torturing him to the brink of insanity. Pleasure rolled through him, fierce and overwhelming. She moaned with each inch she took into her, her heat scalding him and making him throb with need, steel hard and painful. He couldn’t take it. It was too much. Just the thought of her riding him had him close to coming.

“Sable.”

She moaned but ignored his urgent plea, maintaining her slow pace.

He growled and her gaze met his, her lips curled at the corners and she pressed her hands into his stomach.

“Patience, Big Boy.”

That sounded like a definite euphemism. He grinned, flashing fangs at her, his chest swelling with pride over the concealed compliment.

She grinned too and pressed down onto him, seating herself and forcing him deep into her. Thorne choked and his eyes widened as she flexed around him, gripping him tightly.

Sable wriggled and he moaned, inching his head side to side, warning her not to push him. He clutched her hips and held her still, giving himself a moment to find some balance. Even in a vision, it was possible to make fool of oneself, and he was damned if he was going to climax before she did.

“Holy hell… you feel good inside me.”

Thorne scowled at her. She was saying naughty things on purpose, trying to drive him over the edge.

“Not as good as you feel wrapped around me.” He grasped her hips and lifted her off him, and pushed her back down, ripping a harsh cry from her throat. “As tight as a glove, soft as silk and as hot as smelted steel.”

She blushed.

He loved the colour red on her.

Her hands pressed harder into his stomach and she began to rock on him, wiping the smile off his face as she rode him with slow, unhurried strokes. He stared up at her, watching the pleasure flitting across her face, her expression changing with each second. Whenever she reached the height of him, close to pulling free of his shaft, she raised her eyebrows and then they would furrow as she sank back onto him, her lips parting on a breathy moan.

Other books

Working With the Enemy by Susan Stephens
Genital Grinder by Harding, Ryan
The Blogger and the Hunk by Jane Matisse
The Wagered Widow by Patricia Veryan
Cowboy Underneath It All by Delores Fossen
Murder is an Art by Bill Crider