Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet

When he kneeled beside me and took Will’s peak into his blistering mouth, I almost cried out at the instantaneous jolt of pleasure. The tendrils turned to claws. I wrapped my arms around his head, buried my fingers in his hair as he suckled Will and coaxed me closer and closer to orgasm.

Before I could come, he took hold of my h*ps and lifted me out of the chair to stand before him. His sudden absence was like being doused in ice water. I blinked to attention as he sat back on his heels and stared. I should have been self-conscious. He was still fully clothed while I stood completely naked, but the stark admiration glistening in his eyes, the raw desire, eased every insecurity I’d ever had.

“My God,” he said, rising onto his knees.

He took hold of my wrists, locked them behind my back, and trailed tiny kisses over my stomach. Waves of delight shot to my core when he dipped inside my belly button. Then he parted my legs and lifted one over his shoulder, giving his mouth access to that most sensitive area. I clutched the back of the chair for balance as his scalding tongue coaxed me back to the edge of sanity. To the fringe of madness. I welded my teeth together and grabbed his hair, a pulsing need rocketing through me.

My legs shook, so weak with longing I could hardly stand.

The closer I got to orgasm, the more I wanted him in me. I pulled at his hair. Ripped at his shirt. He paused and jerked it over his head. Then I tugged him to his feet. My hands shook as I worked to unfasten his pants. With rushed movements, he pushed his jeans over his h*ps and exquisite bu**ocks. His erection stood firm, pulsing with anticipation. And it was my turn to stare in admiration. A fine sheen of sweat covered his powerful body, making him even more alluring, even more exotic.

The hills and valleys that made up his sensuous form were like a work of art and the evidence of his arousal was no exception. I raked my fingernails over the length of him and watched in fascination as his muscles contracted in response. Before he could stop me, I dropped to my knees and took him into my mouth. He hissed in a sharp breath.

“Dutch,” he said, locking a fist in my hair and fighting for control.

I looked up and his eyes blazed with unspent desire. I knew the feeling, wanted him to experience more of it. Drawing him in deeper, I grazed my teeth along the smoothness of his erection, reveled in the feel of blood rushing through it.

He tightened his hold on my hair as though trying to stop me. “Wait.”

But my arms locked around him to keep him close. His breathing grew labored. Tormented. On the inside, he trembled with the force of it, with the passion he held in check. He tensed each time I drew him inside, groaning until I’d milked him to the brink of orgasm.

Left with no other choice, he jerked me off him and pinned me to the floor, his body rock hard against mine. Without waiting a moment longer—unable to wait a moment longer—he spread my legs and pushed inside me. A shock of pleasure ripped through me so hard and fast it stole my breath. I clutched at his back, bit down on his shoulder, kicked at his hips, but he just wrapped me tighter in his arms and drove, faster and faster, harder and harder, the pressure bubbling and building until I came with a violent burst of white hot sparks. They cascaded over my skin and rushed through every molecule in my body like a shower of light, spilling through my entire being, crashing against my bones like the sea. I had imploded, and all that was left were shimmering flakes of gold.

In exquisite agony, Reyes buried his face against my neck, clawing at me, growling as his own orgasm shuddered through him, his body vibrating with pleasure. He quaked in the wake of it, panting on top of me, letting the orgasm run its course.

“Fuck,” he said at last. He relaxed and lay beside me.

I opened my eyes to look at him. “What?” I asked, worried.

He grinned. “Just f**k.”

“Oh.”

His dark lashes fanned across his cheeks as he lay in stunned satisfaction. I ran my finger along their fringe, and he frowned with a chuckle.

“Now I know the true meaning of perfection,” I said.

His eyes blinked open, and he stared at me with a deep appreciation. “You need to get out more.”

“So everyone tells me.”

But I hadn’t been kidding. It would never be better than this. Better than him. Reyes was the apex. It was all downhill from here. He was heaven and hell at once, angel and demon. I wondered how long I could keep him. How long I could call him mine.

He turned onto his side, rested his head on an arm, and put a large hand across my belly. With a mischievous grin that transformed his handsome face into that of an angel’s, he asked, “Do you know where the gods keep their nectar?”

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, and said, “No idea.”

His hand slid down my stomach and between my legs. I sucked in a sharp breath as he leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Let me show you.”

After two more explorations of our stamina, a shared roast beef sandwich, a shower, and another exploration of our stamina, we lay on my bed, entangled in sheets and towels. Reyes wrapped me in his arms and was almost asleep when I said, “Who knew that all this time the nectar of the gods was in my va-jay-jay?” He laughed softly and let sleep overtake him, but I could not stop looking at his handsome face. At his sensual mouth and strong jaw. His straight nose and thick lashes. He was a miracle. A godsend. And a pain in the ass, but so was I, so I couldn’t fault him that.

I heard my front door open, so I disentangled our limbs, threw on a pair of pajamas, and headed out to the living room. Cookie was putting something in one of my kitchen drawers.