Guardian Demon (GUARDIAN SERIES) (34 page)

The orgasm tore through her on the same beat, left her sobbing and screaming for another, for harder, for more. She came again with Michael surging into her over and over, never stopping, and underneath her now, too, his hard chest against her back, relentlessly driving into her from above but slowly pushing into her from behind, and he was too big, taking him this way should have hurt but it was only good, so good, making her writhe back against him as the ecstasy built and crashed in devastating waves, the tempo rising, faster and faster, his hands on her hips and his fingers in her hair, his enormous length thrusting between her thighs and rocking up beneath her. Each heavy beat filled her deeper and deeper, her body straining to take more.

But she couldn’t take more. “Michael—”

She broke off with a scream when the release raged through her, yet it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough, and when the scream ended little sobs of need still tore at her chest.

“I can’t.” Mindlessly, her hips lifted and fell on each word, each stroke. “Any more. Stop.”

He did, leaving her empty.

So empty. Taylor gasped for breath and turned over. Shudders wracked her limbs, starting at her core and trembling outward to muscles wrung out and weak. Above her, Michael didn’t move. Her fingers clung to his biceps. His elbows were braced beside her shoulders, his hips between her thighs—still wearing that wrap of linen.

The cloth stretched over his erection was soaked by her arousal. Still covered. Michael hadn’t been inside her body.

He’d been inside her head.

She looked up as he slipped out of her mind. He watched her, his expression bleak. Waiting for her explosion, her hate.

It would be a long wait.

With a tremulous sigh, she reached up, his jaw like stone against her palm. His brows pushed together in a frown. This wasn’t what he’d expected.

It wasn’t what she’d expected, either. This should have done it. Right in front of her, a flashing arrow.
Remember? He used you like a puppet.
But that wasn’t what had hurt the most. That had never been what hurt the most. Neither was breaking his promise and betraying her trust.

He just hadn’t been who she’d thought he was. He’d destroyed the image she’d created of him. That had been the worst. But that hadn’t been his fault. He’d never lied to her. She’d assumed he was something that he wasn’t.

Now she knew what he really was. A dragon with the heart of a man—or a man with the heart of a dragon. Yet despite knowing that, she wanted him more now than when she’d believed he was that perfect, inherently good being.

Taylor didn’t know where that left her. He
had
hurt her in Hell. Deliberately cruel, and that part of Michael still lived inside him. She would be stupid to trust him. To want him. To care.

She didn’t know what to do now. So she’d have to figure it out. Look from another angle.

But for now, start with the basics.

The truth.

“It didn’t work,” she said softly. “I don’t hate you. I’m not even pissed.”

Relief seemed to lift through him, melting the frozen tension of his body. His mouth curved under her fingers. “I prefer this reaction.”

“Me, too. And I do feel emptied out. Mind clear. I guess brain-fucking is cathartic.” Taylor paused, uncertain. But truth was truth. Holding his gaze, she admitted, “I want you. And I know I shouldn’t. I’m so messed up.”

“As I want you, and only you,” he said, and the sweetness of his response swept through her, made the truth less terrifying, easier to hold. “Though it’s not complicated, on my part. I am yours. That’s all there is to it.”

No mess. Why couldn’t it ever be that way for her? “It should be simple for me, too—where ‘simple’ equals ‘running away.’ Instead, it’s all so stupid. If a friend came to me and said, ‘Hey, this guy threatened to eat me and then he took over my head and used me like a puppet, and now I’m going to lie on a beach and let him screw me with his superpowers,’ I’d slap sense into her.”

His smile broke into a short laugh. “You’d be a good friend.”

“I know it.” Her hands slid from his jaw, flattened against the bare expanse of his bronze chest. She lightly traced the ridges of his pectorals, loving how his muscles hardened further beneath her fingers, the subtle shift of his body against hers, as if seeking a firmer touch. “That would make me a great friend. A smart friend. But instead I’m naked in the sand.”

“Naked, beneath me.” The roughness of his voice made her shiver. “I haven’t forgotten.”

He hadn’t softened, either. Still rock hard, a heavy weight against her bare flesh, wet and swollen with arousal.

Holding her gaze, he gently rocked forward. Oh, God. She’d been spent. But the ache was already starting again, the need sharp.

And maybe just as stupid. She needed to slow down and figure that out, too.

“Wait,” she said—and loved that he immediately stopped. He waited, watching her. “This is going to sound dumb after you sexed me up and down in my head. But I don’t want to rush that now. Not while I’m still working through everything else.”

“All right.”

Jesus. No arguments? “You know, that’s not human. You should be all ‘But, baby, my balls hurt. How about just the tip?’ Or at least asking me for a blow job, so we both come and we’re even.”

Of course, if he did want that, she would go down in a second. Michael, at the mercy of her mouth and tongue. She’d probably come again just watching him. Then they wouldn’t be even, so she’d have to start all over.

“I’m
not
human,” Michael said, and his gorgeous smile was doing those crazy things to her head again. This time, she didn’t mind so much. “Not completely. And I don’t care if I come. This arousal you stir in me gives more pleasure than an orgasm ever has.”

Taylor laughed. “Bullshit. What would you
really
like?”

“Are you offering?”

Oh, God, yes. She could almost taste him now. Could almost feel him straining under her hands, against her tongue.

“Anything you want.”

His smile faded, and the sudden intensity of his obsidian gaze made her heart trip faster. She recognized that look. She’d seen it in Hell. The dragon, but not the coldness, not the cruelty. This was the fire.

“Be careful what you offer me.” His thumb skimmed over her mouth. “Know that my hunger always burns deep—but my hunger for
you
is immense, and will sharpen with every taste. I’ll control it for you. I’ll stop when you tell me to. But don’t doubt the strength of my need, or how much I want to take.”

“I know at least some of it.” And it hadn’t frightened her. She’d been coming too hard to even think of being scared. “You would take all of me—like you did in my head.”

“I would,” he said. “I have no boundaries, Andromeda, except your pleasure and your consent. But what you felt didn’t come from me. I can project your need back to you, but I can’t force you to experience what I want. I used your memories instead.”

Her
memories? Shock parted her lips. “What? No. Because I’ve never taken it up the—”

“Memories of fantasies.” His fingers tightened in her hair. “Of me. I thought you would hate me anyway. I thought it would be the last time we would touch. So I wanted it to be what you imagined.”

She stared up at him. Heat burned in her cheeks. She didn’t know what to say. Everything he’d just told her was another flashing arrow.
Here’s why this
should
be the last time we touch.
But it wouldn’t be. Because she’d told him to get into her head. She’d expected sex for real, not using her memories, but she should have known that he’d be ruthless in his determination to please her. He’d use anything available, just as he’d turn any object in a room into a weapon. And maybe that should have scared her. But it thrilled her instead.

His gaze searched her face. “Are you angry now?”

“I want to be.” It would be smarter. “But I’m not.”

“Then are you still offering?”

“Yes.” Her eyes locked with his. She hadn’t backed down from the dragon in Hell. She wouldn’t now. “Anything you want.”

Hunger flared from his psychic scent, a sharp burn. Bracing his weight on his left arm, he angled his muscular torso up to look down at her. His weight shifted between her thighs, pulling a gasp from her as the ridge of his cock rode against her clitoris for an all-too-brief second. He left no time for frustration to set in. The tip of his finger began tracing a circle around one of her nipples, leaving a glistening trail of burgundy liquid. A shiver tightened her skin. The scent of wine filled the air.

His gaze followed the path of his finger before rising to her lips. “I vanished the wine from the glass so that your mother would believe I was drinking it. All the while, I watched you sip, thinking that if I kissed you, your mouth would taste like this.”

His beautiful mouth. She couldn’t stop staring at him. “Then do it. Kiss me.”

“Not when you still want to be angry with me.”

“I might be angry if you don’t.”

“I would like to see that, too. Andromeda Taylor, furious because I won’t kiss her.”

He lowered his head. Not to her mouth. Her fingers fisted through loose sand when his tongue followed the trail of wine, a leisurely circle around the rigid peak. Need pushed through her, not pounding and pounding but slow and thick.

Above her, Michael stiffened. His head bowed. Braced in the sand, the carved muscles of his arms sharpened.

“Michael?”

“Your taste, Andromeda.” His head lifted, features stark with arousal. “I have to focus on the wine, or I’ll lose all sense.”

And this was what pleased him? Indulging in a flavor? Her hands curled over his shoulders. “At least the wine is good.”

“Better because it’s on you.” His head dipped. “And I’ll never have enough.”

His mouth opened over her breast and he drew the taut bud into his mouth, suckling hard. A heavy groan rumbled from his chest, a sound of pure male pleasure. Taylor cried out, her hips bucking against him, the involuntary movement pushing her up his thick length, the lips of her sex parting around his shaft.

And his linens were gone. Oh, God. His bare cock nestled between her folds and rose like hot iron against her lower belly.

“So sensitive,” he murmured roughly against her skin. “I barely touch you, and you’re wet all over again.”

Sensitive. She’d never thought so. She’d enjoyed sex before, but it had always taken work. To let herself get close to someone. To give herself completely over to desire, to the sensations—and never quite making it. A part of her always held back, questioning and doubting. But she had no barriers with him.

And he watched her now, eyes locked on her face as she lifted her hips again, deliberately this time. She couldn’t hold his gaze, her head tipping back with a long moan as the slick drag of his cock over her clit sent pulses of ecstasy shooting along her nerves.

“Look at you, Andromeda.” Hunger etched his face. His big hand gripped her left thigh, pushed her leg over his back. “Do it again. Just like that. Ride me like that while I suck.”

She couldn’t have done anything else. More wine spilled over her breast and he latched on, his moan like a growl on her skin. Hips jerking upward, she cried out, then rocked in time with the suction, with the flick of his tongue.

Heart pounding, he lifted his head. Taylor stilled her hips, gasped for breath. Wine drops fell between her breasts, rolling forward and back with the heaving of her chest. He swept them up with a lick, but this wasn’t a respite. Anticipation wound through her in razor-sharp coils as he licked his way to her left nipple, already throbbing and rosy, eager for his attention.

He didn’t make her wait. His lips closed over her breast and sucked her into wild abandon, her hips pumping up and down in short strokes, seeking release as every draw of his mouth tugged fire through her veins.

Close, so close. Then his muscles bunched beneath her hands and he rose up, pushed back. The incredible pressure against her clit vanished. Frustration screamed through her but his weight returned, his ridged abdomen hard against her pulsing core. Not the same, but it was Michael against her, skin against skin.

Wine spilled from her sternum to her belly. His tongue followed. Realization almost stopped her heart, then razored anticipation kicked in again, her need cutting painfully deep.

His hand slipped beneath her bottom, pushed her into motion again, but her whole world centered now on his mouth, moving down. Her calf slid up his back, her heel against his spine. She rose onto her elbows to watch him. Oh, his face. His eyelids at half-mast, as if every lick was bliss. She shook when he sipped from her navel, his tongue dipping inside. Then her leg fell away from his back as he continued down, forcing her thighs wider to make room for his broad chest, his massive shoulders.

He stopped, looked up at her. Her breath came in labored pants. Slowly, he hooked her knees over his shoulders.

Taylor whimpered, her stomach clenching. His strong fingers gripped the underside of her thighs, his thumbs rubbing up and down the sensitive tendons at the juncture of her legs. Two narrow streams of wine slipped from beneath his fingers, rolling down the inside of her thighs, pooling on the flat stretch of skin above the mound of her sex.

Oh, my God.
Her gaze locked with his. Pure obsidian stared back at her, a dragon’s hunger.

“Tip your hips forward, Andromeda.” His voice was a dark growl, a deep abyss. “Let me taste.”

Muscles shaking with tension, she tilted forward. She felt his heated gaze on her face as wine trickled through her curls, an endless tease before the sudden spill down her cleft.

He swooped to catch it. His tongue slicked over her clit and then she was done, her back arching in the sand and screaming his name, and there was nothing else, nothing but his mouth and the nip of his teeth and the thrust of his tongue. She came, shuddering and clawing at his shoulders, but his hands only angled her up for a deeper taste, every lick setting off new sparks, reigniting the need.

“Michael.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders. She struggled for breath. “I can’t—”