Chapter 23
Hugh’s mouth opened beneath Gwen’s as he tumbled onto his back.
The searing heat of his lips stung her tongue, and she didn’t care.
She sucked on the tip of his, coaxing him to abandon whatever dark impulses had overtaken him in the aftermath of her vision.
Needing him present with her, all that raging heat aimed toward their mutual pleasure instead of violence.
He moaned into her mouth. Wrapped her in his arms, fingertips sinking into the softness of her hips, her ass, as he yanked her tighter to him.
His tongue circled hers, swirling until sparks flew behind her closed eyelids and her thighs shifted restlessly against his, while his greedy palms mapped her with bold possessiveness.
When he suddenly stilled under her, she ripped her mouth free, panting. “Yes?”
Blanket permission or no blanket permission, she wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want.
“Gwen. You…” His throat bobbed in a hard swallow. “You’re well now? Not hurting?”
“Totally fine.” She rested her hand in the center of his chest, over his demon’s heart. “I’m sure you can feel it.”
“Good. Then let me…” His palm slipped between their bodies, then down between her thighs. “There you are.”
That hot, strong hand molded itself with deliberate care to the center of all her want, and she shuddered at the gentle but firm claim. At the bolt of pleasure that hitched her breath and hastened her pulse.
Unable—unwilling—to resist, she pressed against his hold. Another spike of sensation set her cheeks aflame, and her lips parted.
“I made you a promise, Gwen.” A light squeeze of his palm, and high color burnished his own cheekbones at the low, needy noise she couldn’t stifle. “And I’m a demon who always, always keeps his word.”
Before she quite understood what was happening, he’d stood, turned the key to disable the elevator, and returned to tug her new cotton nightgown over her head.
Then he tossed a spare blanket atop the thick, soft library rug—freshly cleaned via a spare spell Max had located—and tumbled their entwined bodies down onto the floor.
The next thing she knew, he lay flat on the blanketed rug, perpendicular to the sofa, and she…
Oh, my.
At his silent urging, her wobbly knees spread wide.
His steady hands on her hips hitched her forward until she knelt over his desire-flushed face, entirely bare and open to him.
She had just enough time for a single, frantic worry—gods and goddesses above, what if she suffocated an actual SERC councilor due to her untrammeled, immoderate lust? —before…
As he’d promised, her thighs bracketed his neck as he sucked in a deep, leisurely breath. Inhaled the scent of her slick need. Then blew a hot, teasing stream of air directly at her swelling flesh as she trembled above him.
“The sofa, Gwen,” he reminded her, his voice muffled, and she instinctively reached out. The silk upholstery was cool in her clutching fingers, the antique wooden frame solid in a world that seemed to sway beneath her with every racing heartbeat.
He nuzzled into her hair, the light abrasion of his beard a teasing brush of pleasure against her most vulnerable skin.
Then his tongue separated her. Licked slowly, exploringly, up the central seam of her body.
With the first teasing loop around her clitoris, her breath caught in her chest, her back arched, and her chin tipped toward the ceiling.
She couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t think, as that agile, tireless tongue mapped every sensitive spot along her folds and flicked briefly, glancingly, over her clit in occasional forays.
He could feel her reaction to every lick.
She knew it, because any movement of his that lit sparks behind her closed eyelids, he immediately repeated.
Patiently, he tested variations with his lips and tongue until she was squirming above him, straining against his steady grip on her hips.
But no matter how much she rocked and writhed against the gorgeous friction of that thick, soft beard, he kept her firmly in place against his seeking mouth.
When his tongue dipped inside her, pressing deeper than even her horniest imaginings could have guessed, swirling in a way she couldn’t even comprehend, she gasped. Loudly.
Then immediately stiffened at the sound, because oh, gods, this wasn’t her apartment, wasn’t even his apartment, and she didn’t want Max or the trolls to—
His hand captured hers, prying it from the sofa cushion. Guided it over her own mouth.
Her damp palm muffled her cries as he resumed fucking her with his tongue, rubbing insistently against the most sensitive spots and circling just inside her entrance.
His nose brushed against her clit, and her body twitched around his tongue.
A warning that she was finally about to come, thank all the gods and—
His tongue retreated, and she nearly cried.
“Hugh.” A hiccupped plea through clamped fingers. “Please.”
“Shhh,” he soothed, the sound vibrating against her swollen flesh. “I’ve got you, Gwen. Trust me.”
One of his hands left her hip. Spread her even farther open to him as she shook in need.
Then he sucked lightly at her clit as two long fingers sank deep inside her in a gorgeous, aching stretch, and her entire body locked in place at the immediate starburst of intense pleasure.
Oh, gods and goddesses, it was so fucking good, and she suddenly didn’t want this to end anymore.
Not ever. She tried not to breathe, not to move, not to come.
But his mouth drew on her clit, tugging coaxingly, his fingers rubbed slowly within her, and his tongue flicked over her even as he sucked, and there was no holding back her orgasm then.
She shattered in his hands. Against his mouth.
Her climax flowed through her like a river of heat, and she throbbed in time with the rippling rush, knees buckling as she ground against his tongue, spasmed around his fingers, and sobbed into her palm.
His hand on her hip clamped tight, keeping her upright and steady the entire time she pulsed and moaned and pulsed again, coming endlessly at the silent command of his persuasive, careful touch.
When the throbbing finally began to fade, he slowed his movements and lightened the pressure of his mouth. Still, he teased out every remaining clench of ecstasy her body could offer. And by the time her orgasm had fully left her, she was damp with sweat and liquid with relaxed pleasure.
Gently, he scooted her backward, then sat up and helped ease her onto the blanket, tucking a pillow beneath her neck. His face was taut and flushed with effort, his chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. His beard gleamed with slickness.
“I’d normally ask if I pleased you, but…” His knuckles trailed tenderly over her cheek. “I can tell I made you feel good, Gwen, and I’m very glad for that.”
“That makes two of us.” Her beaming smile stretched her cheeks. “Next time, may I use your horns as a steering wheel?”
“Of course.” He smoothed her hair back from her temple and smiled back at her. “I welcome any and all guidance. Honey-bunny.”
She shook her head at him but otherwise lay limp and sated, watching through heavy lids as he stripped off his own clothing. With uncharacteristic carelessness, he tossed the items in every direction. Then had to hurriedly relocate his pants, from which he produced a wrapped condom.
She had to laugh. “You can’t make me any more pregnant than I already am, Hugh. And I got the full battery of tests at the obstetrician’s office. I’m totally healthy.”
Most likely, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Full demons were immune to disease, so they didn’t require protection, and that probably held true for Hugh too. Either way, though, they were covered.
He’d already dropped the condom back onto his discarded pants and was in the midst of shucking his boxer briefs when he glanced over at her, lips curved in wry amusement. “I’m afraid my brain is no longer in charge here, honey. My apologies.”
When he straightened again, now fully naked, she took him in.
Pale. Lean. Angular and strong, with surprisingly broad shoulders and dark, sparse hair trailing down to his hard, flushed cock.
That cock was long and slim and obviously inhuman, with gently ridged curves corkscrewing along its length, a faintly pointed head, and a steady, visible ripple of movement beating underneath his skin.
Some sort of internal pulse, evidently, one she hadn’t noticed previously.
Maybe it only occurred when he was fully hard?
She wanted to feel that throb on her tongue. Against her clit. Deep inside her.
When he turned to check the lock on the library door, she finally got to admire his subtly rounded ass in all its uncovered glory. Two firm cheeks, with a shadowed cleft between, and…
“No tail. I’d wondered about that.” Most demons had one, but apparently his human genetics had triumphed over his very fine backside. Unless—“Do you glamour it away?”
The most expensive ones could make such features intangible as well as invisible. Was he concerned about shocking her delicate human sensibilities?
“I was born without one.” He approached the blanket, each step deliberate and calm, his cock bobbing slightly between his thighs. “Are you disappointed?”
She considered the matter. “I don’t think so? I mean, I don’t imagine an extra appendage is ever unwelcome in bed, but its usage would probably be startling the first time.”
“I wouldn’t know from personal experience.” His lips curved in amusement, he admired her sprawled body in return. “If you feel the desire to experiment, a prehensile tail is only a glamour away. And there are always toys to…er…” He hesitated. “Fill the gap. So to speak.”
She bit back a snicker at that. “What about your tongue? Is it different from a human’s?”
Because she could have sworn that it was, although maybe her abject lust had confused her perceptions.
“It’s glamoured, typically, out of pure habit and for ease of pronunciation, but naturally forked.” He showed her, and sure enough. It was longer than a human tongue and split at the end. “I was wondering whether you’d noticed.”
The new, faint lisp to his words explained why he might prefer a more human-shaped tongue for daily use. She hated that he might feel the need to glamour himself for the comfort of others, though, or because his mother had trained him to hide his true self.
“Oh, I definitely noticed. In the best possible way,” she quickly added in response to his concerned brow-furrow. “But, Hugh, please feel free to look any way you want around me. Glamour or no glamour, tail or no tail, split tongue or no split tongue, you’re gorgeous.”
With effort, she briefly met his hot amber gaze. Then couldn’t stop her eyes from sliding back down over him as she contemplated how his dick would feel inside her. How the heat would change things. The spiraling ridges. That slow, rhythmic, ever-strengthening pulse.
Slowly, her post-orgasm malaise was transitioning back into lust. Between her legs, she was beginning to ache again.
The huskiness in her voice would have given away her renewed desire even if he hadn’t already sensed it. Which he definitely had, given the pleased, predatory gleam in his eyes.
“I’m glad you think so.” He knelt beside her on the blanket. “I intend to show you how gorgeous you are too.”
“How…” She swallowed over a Sahara-dry throat. “How are you planning to do that?”
“Thoroughly, Gwen,” he said, and reached for her. “Just like I do everything.”