Interesting. All right, so maybe addressing his arousal was the only way to help him. She eyed the massive bulge in his pants. Oh, my. How long had it been since she’d touched a man intimately? The answer to that question was, too long. She’d lived the first nineteen years of her life believing she was human, and though she’d known sex for only the last two years of her human existence, she remembered exactly how good male flesh felt against hers.
Even after two thousand years of celibacy. And not one orgasm.
Be not tempted by the pleasures of the flesh, Idess. She’d heard that from Rami with annoying frequency whenever he caught her admiring men. It had been so easy for her brother to say, since he’d never had sex—he’d been celibate even during his human years. But she’d had a wild side as a human, and for centuries afterward, and he’d been ruthless in his quest to tame her.
It had taken her betrayal of him to finally bring her to heel.
She let out a long, slow breath. “Be not tempted by the pleasures of the flesh,” she whispered. Telling herself she had no choice and that it was no big deal, she palmed the thick length that pressed so hard against the leather that she could make out the shape of his shaft. The thick head. He shouted and stiffened, but at least he’d stopped thrashing. The whites had returned to his eyes, and now they were wild, wide, like those of a spooked horse. He was panting, but he remained motionless, as though waiting to see what she was going to do next.
He was remarkable. Even in his fury, he was gorgeous. Her body responded once again, warming and tingling, growing achy in that most primal of instincts.
Instincts that must be ignored. It was forbidden for Memitim to have sex with humans, so she could only imagine how much trouble she’d be in for ha**ng s*x with a demon.
She frowned. Was this some sort of final test? Rami had faced something similar, just before his Ascension, when he’d fallen in love with a human woman he’d nursed back to health after finding her injured by an archer’s arrow. When, after a serious internal struggle, he’d resisted her invitation into her bed, he’d been offered his final reward.
What if this was Idess’s test? Not that she’d ever be in danger of falling in love with a demon, but this was a sex demon, a species known to be irresistible to all females. Had he been given to her in order to determine her ability to resist? That would explain why he’d suddenly become a Primori. Her Primori.
And if so, it was a poor test of her willpower. Like all Memitim, she’d taken a vow of chastity, and no male, human or demon, could make her break it after thousands of years.
Satisfied that she could handle this without losing herself to lust, she ran her hand down his shaft, letting her palm mold to the firm length of him. His lips parted on a soft gasp, and crazily enough, she wanted to touch them. With her fingers, her mouth…
Cursing her response but encouraged by his, she rubbed harder, and his gasp became a long, tortured moan.
She took her hand away.
Instantly, he arched his back, yanked his chains, and howled… a sound of unimaginable pain.
“Okay,” she said quickly, and palmed him again. Once more, he settled down, but his entire body trembled. “I’m sorry.”
Maybe she could use this. Just a little…
“Tell me,” she said, as she straddled his knees and plucked at the top button on his pants, “who hired you to kill Kynan?”
He shook his head, and she drew her hand away.
The sound of his teeth snapping together jarred the air. He shook so hard she was nearly dislodged from her seat.
“Bad idea,” she muttered, as she tore open the remaining buttons and released him. He was enormous, a thick column of deep, blushing brown that disappeared into the V of his fly. Only a very light dusting of dark hair trailed from beneath the hem of his shirt across his abdomen, which was marked with all manner of scars, to his groin.
Forbidden need washed over her, and at the same time, Lore pushed his h*ps upward, putting the blunt head of his penis in contact with her hand.
“Aren’t we impatient?” We was right, because this was as close as she could get to a male, and she wanted this nearly as much as he did. Using only the tips of her fingers, she stroked the velvety cap until Lore’s head fell back against the wall and his eyes closed with relief. “This feels good, doesn’t it?” It certainly felt good to her. Oh, she remembered this. Except she didn’t recall taking so much pleasure in touching a man.
“Mmm-hmm.”
She squeezed his shaft, marveling at the satiny skin that stretched over a thick rod of iron. She didn’t recall the men of her day being this big, either. “About Kynan…”
Baring his teeth, he shook his head. She drew her hand away once more.
He went crazy, and her heart clenched and that was enough testing him. Hastily, she gripped him again, the effect on him so dramatic she could hardly fathom how crucial sex must be to his very existence. The way he settled down so quickly, his expression reflecting both stark relief and misery… it was fascinating. For so long she’d avoided anything even remotely sensual or sexual, because while not bedding a man was simple enough, the vow of chastity also banned self-pleasure, and that hadn’t been so easy. And now, as if her body had come out of a deep freeze, it flared hot and went liquid, and she couldn’t wait to see Lore come, to watch pleasure take him in the most male of ecstasies.
“Good boy,” she murmured. Adjusting her position, she made room for her other hand so she could reach below his shaft to his balls. They lay heavily in her hand, and when she began to roll them gently, he cursed on a low, ragged breath.
She dragged her other hand up, from the thick base to the flared head. A crystal drop formed in the slit, and she swiped her thumb through it, spreading the silky moisture around the crown. Lore rocked his hips, his chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. His shaft pulsed and swelled, and she sensed he was close.
“Faster,” he said hoarsely. “Harder.”
She obeyed, pumping him the way he wanted her to, loving the friction building between her palm and his skin. She tore her gaze away from what her hand was doing so she could gauge every reaction.
And oh, what reactions he had. His eyes were open, hungry, and focused on her face. The tendons in his neck and the muscles in his arms stood out starkly as he strained against the chains, and she knew if he got free she’d be under him in a heartbeat.
Desire curled in her gut, and a heady sense of power shot right to her head with dizzying speed. She could change the intervals between his breaths by altering the speed of her strokes. She could make him moan by altering the tightness of her grip. And when she swiped her thumb against the area just under the head, his entire body arched.
Crazily, her body arched, too. Toward him. She was shockingly aroused by this, in a way she’d never been. Oh, she got antsy at times, but punishing exercise or dessert sprees never failed to rescue her from lust’s clutches. This time, she had a feeling no amount of push-ups or tiramisu would ease the ache that throbbed through her. Her pulse beat erratically through her veins, her ni**les hardened into sensitive pearls that rasped against her bra with every uneven breath, and somehow she had slid right up to the edge of orgasm.
Would it go against her vow to come even without touching herself? If it was an accident?
An accidental orgasm. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, because her body was a pot about to boil over, and as much as she craved what she’d been denied for so long, she also couldn’t risk it.
Angry and hurting, she took it out on Lore, since really, this was his fault. She squeezed him harder, pumped him faster, drawing a pleasured hiss out of him. He watched her as though trying to figure out a way to get to her, but when she looked back down at the erotic sight of his plum-ripe head thrusting through the ring of her fingers, he became lost in the rhythm, throwing his head back once more.
“Don’t… stop.” His guttural voice was at once a command and a plea, and he came suddenly, his body bucking with such violence that she had to grip his hip to keep from being thrown. A raw curse erupted from deep inside his chest, and se**n shot onto her hand and in thick ropes over his six-pack abs.
He was beautiful, so big, his muscles straining and his body hard. He’d feel good on top of her, his weight holding her down as he thrust into her. He’d be na**d, sweaty, and they’d be skin on hot skin, their bodies joined and their tongues tangling.
Pressure reached critical at her core, and she realized she was grinding herself against his thigh even as she finished him off with her hand. Her gaze flew up to his face, and she drew a startled, horrified breath at the way he was focused on her, eyes drowsy but glowing with knowledge.
Clearing her throat, she released his penis, which was still semihard. “How often do you need sex?” she asked casually, though she felt anything but, especially with the way her skin tingled where his seed had splashed over her hand, filling her with the oddest urge to smooth it over sensitive, private places.
“Few times a day.” His voice was husky, a lovely postcoital growl.
More rattled than she cared to admit, she peeled herself off him to visit the bathroom and slap a bandage over the cut on her arm. By the time she finished, she felt almost normal again, though she could definitely use a cold shower and two gallons of spumoni ice cream.
She found a tube of antibiotic ointment in her medicine cabinet, wetted a washcloth, and returned to Lore. “If you don’t get sex, you go into rages?”
“Yes,” he grunted, as though embarrassed. “How did you manage to truss me up? And what do you plan to do to me?”
“I made you truss your own self up.” She sank down on the mattress beside him. “And I plan to keep you from killing Kynan.”
“You’re an angel, right? Like, Kynan’s guardian angel?”
“Something like that.” Gently, she wiped away the blood on his left arm, working her way from his thick shoulder to the cuff around his wrist. His skin was supple, smooth, the muscles beneath set with deep grooves between the mounds of steel. She lingered more than she should.