Chapter 24 Lyx
TWENTY-FOUR
Lyx
When Lyx pools her dress at the tops of her thighs, Cav doesn’t look down.
Even with her body pressed against him, he keeps watching her expression, like that’s what he wants to disrobe.
Conspiratorially, he leans closer and lowers his voice.
“I could ask you the same thing. Why are you holding back?”
Something real. Something honest.
She hasn’t forgotten what Cav insists on, but Great Abyss, she didn’t think he’d actually cling to it. Why bother resisting her when she’s baring herself right in front of him? It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t care. With a shrug, she lowers her hand between her legs. “Fine. If you don’t want it…”
Her fingers are slick immediately. She would have gasped if she weren’t so proud, the stinging sensation of her own desire a sour reminder that this is all because of him. She hates what he’s done to her; she hates even more that he won’t finish her off.
Of course, her motions don’t inspire Cav. He doesn’t move, but he does watch her. She tries her best to entice him, letting her lips part when she circles a finger against her clit. It’s a relief from the ache, but the look in Cav’s eyes is more potent, making her toes curl.
Damn him to the Depths.
What started as a way to distract him has taken on a life of its own.
She can hardly remember why she came on the deck at all when his body is pressed against her, an invitation she refuses to accept.
Why walk through the front door when you can break in the back?
She knows exactly how to get what she wants; she just can’t stand the thought of giving into him.
But Cav isn’t playing by her rules. Lyx has set a smooth rhythm against her clit, but her hand stutters aside when Cav reaches between her legs.
“I do want it,” he whispers. She makes a shameful noise when he eases her skirt out of the way.
“But if I’ve touched you nearly every way a person can, why wasn’t that enough? Why are you here asking for more?”
It’s pathetic how her hips buck, made worse when Cav doesn’t touch her. He doesn’t delve inside her. He doesn’t even brush her clit. Instead, he flattens his palm and his fingers, making one solid plane.
His breath is warm against her cheek. “Might as well be driftwood. Isn’t that what you said?”
The memory of the crow’s nest sinks its teeth into her. Fuck him. Fuck this abstinence, like he’s teaching her a lesson. Like he wants her hungry enough to give in. He’s not starving every part of her, just one.
Her skin glows bright from it, casting blue light across his face.
If someone looks into this hammock, they’ll see exactly what the two of them are doing.
That only makes it hotter. If he thinks she’s too embarrassed to use him, he’d better think again.
She presses his hand against her, swirling her hips until the motion is wet and slippery.
She works her clit against the ridges of his fingers, gripping the front of his shirt while the hammock sways beneath them.
It’s getting to him. No matter how he tries to hide, his eyes melt over her, but he won’t give in that easily. Not when he has her right where he wants her. Just to be cruel, he pulls back his hand to make her chase it.
She glares at him.
A mocking pout graces his lips. “Do you need me to share something honest first? Is that what it is?”
His palm heats between her legs. The sudden warmth makes her curse and bury her teeth against his shoulder.
“Let’s see, then…” With a smile, he rests his head against hers, completely unmoved by what they’re doing.
“I don’t need the experiment as an excuse; I would do this with you no matter what.
You already know that, don’t you?” He hums. “But I don’t just want more of this.
I want more than this. More than just touching you. More than fucking.”
Lyx keeps dragging against his hand, her fingernails digging into his arms for leverage. She can’t think about what that means, but Cav leans down toward her ear to make sure she hears him.
“You want me to tell you the truth about you?” His nose traces the shell of her ear. “I think you’re here because you know there’s more. That there could be more.”
She clutches his shirt and clenches her eyes shut.
Her hips don’t stop moving. All the memories come bubbling up, days and weeks and months she’s spent thinking about him.
Even when her fantasies were vengeful violence, it was always the two of them: bodies colliding, his throat in her hands, his pulse under hers.
“And you know what else?” His laughter is raspy with lust, like he can’t quite believe he’s saying this. “If you are hiding something, I don’t think I’d care.”
Lyx bites her lip to keep from groaning. It’s not true. If he knew what she was doing on this ship, it would matter, but she can’t stop the surge of arousal at his words.
His other hand curls in her hair. “Now tell me something real.”
She scoffs, but it turns into a shiver that runs through her entire body. “You can’t handle it.”
“Try me.”
Every part of her bares down, like her secrets might slip out if she doesn’t hold onto them.
Her teeth grit as she moves against him.
Why is he so intent to get this from her?
He doesn’t know how dangerous it is. Anything she tells him would send him running.
Her most mild thoughts involve a frantic, obsessive urge to consume him.
Maybe that’s why she should tell him. So he’ll stop asking for it. So it will kill his foolish infatuation. So she won’t be tempted to show him everything else she’s hiding.
His smile stretches against her forehead. “I knew I shouldn’t ask.” It’s like he’s speaking to himself, his voice tinged with sadness. His claws retract. “I know you don’t want to give me anything, but I can’t help myself.”
Then he sinks a finger inside her, and she mewls in her throat. Finally, finally, he’s given her more than the flat of his hand. His finger curls against that spot inside her, easing her into the deep pressure that threatens to unravel her.
She wants to sob. He adds another finger, never slowing the circle of his palm against her clit.
Urgency builds in her gut. She tries to outrun it, to keep pace, but her movements are sloppy and hopeless.
Her teeth drag against his neck, rewarded with pinpricks of blood that drive every other thought from her head. “I want to eat you alive.”
Cav stills. It takes a moment for Lyx to realize she’s spoken, that this is not one of the fantasies she consoled herself with. She hovers in this fuzzy place between lust and reality, the need in her so strong it overpowers everything else.
In a few days, none of this will matter.
Cav strokes deep inside her again. “What else?”
Her head spins. She’s told him something that would horrify anyone else, and he’s asking for more?
He doesn’t believe her. That’s what it is. He thinks it’s a metaphor, an exaggeration, anything but the truth. He wouldn’t continue this if he knew, but her desire has pulled as tight as a sail line in a hurricane. Now that she’s started, she can’t stop. She wants more. She wants him.
“I want to scrape off your skin with my teeth.” Her mouth waters at the thought. “I want to pry your scales away and drag my tongue underneath.”
She can practically taste it. She knows how his blood feels on her tongue, but she doesn’t want just a drop.
She wants to suck it from his wounds, to feel it flow over her tongue, to make her mouth messy with it.
“I want to hold your head underwater. I want to guzzle every bubble that escapes from your mouth.”
She wants to destroy him. She wants to eat him, drown him, kill him, because what else could these thoughts mean? What else could a siren want?
Cav’s motions grow more deliberate between her legs, honed exactly where Lyx wants him. She rakes her fingernails down his chest and laves her tongue over the scratches she leaves behind. When she digs her heel into the back of his thigh, he moans.
“I want to hold you on my tongue,” she pants. “I want to brand you with my teeth. I want to swallow you piece by piece.”
Every word digs a trench through her. Her thighs clench around his hand, and when he slides a third finger inside, her vision blurs.
“Tell me more,” he pleads.
“I want you to cry from how good it hurts.” Her voice is so strung out that she barely recognizes it. The world spins around her. She presses her forehead to his, seeking something to hold onto before she breaks. “I want to devour you. I want to ruin you. I want to be the last thing you see.”
Her white-hot desperation combusts. He drinks the sounds from her mouth, their lips smearing hot and wanton against each other.
Her orgasm flutters around his fingers, but he doesn’t withdraw, even when her acid has surely begun to rub him raw.
Their glowing skin casts a haze around them, as hot and humid as the truth she’s finally given him.