“Do that again,” she said, her words breathless and demanding.
Cain did, and this time, he recognized the gentle fluttering of her impending orgasm.
Yes. That was what he wanted. What he needed. Giving her pleasure gave him a heady sense of satisfaction he’d never found anywhere else.
He urged her hips to move faster atop him, pulling her down on each stroke so that they were joined as deeply as they could be. The urge to also join their thoughts hit him hard, but he ignored it and focused on the physical—the scent of her arousal, the pretty flush of her skin, the increasingly loud cries filling the cold air.
She began to tremble. Her muscles tightened. The pitch of her voice rose and her fingers dug into his shoulders.
Cain cupped the nape of her neck in his palm, connecting the parts of the luceria. Energy flowed from the ground into him, then into her. It lifted her hair, creating a pink halo around her head. Sparks cascaded from the strands, sinking back into the ground from where they came. With each beat of his heart, power pulsed into her. And with each pulse came a tightening of her body.
Pleasure swirled through him, growing huge and blindingly bright as it consumed his vision. He felt her quivering at the edge of ecstasy and knew he was going to fall right over with her.
Her nipples tightened and dragged over his chest, making his lifemark respond in a frenzied flurry of rioting branches. Her pussy clenched around him, and he knew he was a goner. Holding back was impossible. There was simply too much pleasure to bear—too much perfection to be found in her arms.
Her mouth opened on a scream of completion, and Cain covered her lips with his to drink it down. He fused them together as the first frenzied wave hit him. Sparks spewed from her hair. He heard them crackling in the air. The taste of her cries swept over his tongue, and deep within her body, the first pulse of his release broke free.
Rory’s hips wiggled madly and her sex hugged him tight, clenching as her orgasm swept through her. He poured himself into her, filling her with hard spurts of semen. The pleasure was endless, and yet over far too soon. He held her close while the storm passed.
She drooped in his arms, resting her head on his shoulder as she caught her breath. He petted her back and stroked her hair, unwilling to let her go. His heart thundered in his ears and his heart was racing, but he was content and completely blissed out, hovering in that moment when the world’s problems could not break through.
As the cold wind passed over them and the sweat cooled their bodies, Rory began to shiver. Cain found the closest article of clothing he could and draped it over her naked back. It was his shirt—the one she’d ripped open.
He grinned at the memory of her ferocity, even as it made his softening cock twitch with a little thrill. He liked that she wasn’t shy about taking what she wanted from him, and the thought of when she might next make demands had his deflating erection swiftly reversing course.
They couldn’t stay out here like this no matter how much he wanted to make her come again. The sun was hanging low in the sky. It wasn’t safe to be out here. And it was too cold now that there was no longer a lust-fueled inferno pouring off of his body.
He stood and set her on her feet. She held on to him as she gained her balance, her gaze fixed on his.
“What?” he finally asked, as it became clear that something was on her mind.
She gave him the slightest shake of her head. “Nothing. We should get moving. It’s cold.”
He helped her gather her clothes, offering her his ruined shirt to clean away the wet mess he’d left between her thighs.
“Sorry about ripping your shirt,” she said, a sheepish grin on her mouth.
“No, you’re not. You liked it.”
“Maybe a little. I’ve never torn a man’s clothes off before.” She pulled her panties and jeans on, covering the most tempting ass he’d ever seen.
He pulled his own jeans on and buckled his sword in place. “Feel free to do it again whenever you like.”
Her smile brightened his whole world and warmed him all the way to his bones. It struck him in that moment that he could love her if she let him. Part of him already did, maybe, though to admit it would make him too vulnerable. Once the colors in the luceria solidified, he wouldn’t survive without their bond, and the last thing he wanted was to tie her to him with guilt.
No, it was his duty to her to make sure that didn’t happen. She deserved a choice that wasn’t swayed by her feeling responsible for his life. So he’d hold his heart closed, his thoughts tight, and do his best not to fall in love with her.
* * *
Rory felt . . . cheated. The sex had been great—that man nearly blew the top of her head off making her come that hard—but it wasn’t like before. Cain had held back, and she didn’t like it. She liked feeling what he did, knowing what turned him on and how her touch drove him crazy. She liked the intimacy of their connection and knowing that he’d never shared that with any other woman before. That he was holding out on her now pissed her off and made her feel insecure, which pissed her off even more.
The sun was low on the horizon, giving each blade of dead grass a long shadow. They headed back toward the house, him all shirtless and beautiful under his gaping leather jacket.
Given the chance, she’d gladly rip another shirt from his body and see where it took them. But now was not the time for that. Now was the time for reality, for impending danger and tough decisions.
Reality sucked donkey dick.
Rory wanted to hold his hand or put her arm in his—anything to connect them—but he was too far away, his gaze watchful on their surroundings as if expecting trouble. It made her nervous, driving away the languid heat of their erotic interlude.
“What happens to me if we find the person who blocks my visions before we kill the demon in my head?”
“I can only guess.”
“So guess.”
He spared her a quick glance before he hurried ahead and opened the back door for her. “If you’re not able to pull on my power to defend yourself, then there’s no end to the damage the demon could do. He could simply haunt your dreams, tormenting you for fun, or he could use your body against your will, wreaking untold havoc.”
“How long do I have before Ronan’s cage fails?”
“Years. Hours. There’s no way to know.”
She slipped past him, dragging in the scent of his bare chest and leather jacket as she went. So yummy. It went to her head and rolled around there, derailing her train of thought for a second. “So until we kill it, I’m a ticking time bomb to everyone around me.”
“Yes.”
At least he didn’t bother to lie.