And that started with seeing to his needs.
“I’m healed, Silas,” she assured him, stroking the back of his neck. Even those muscles were tense. “It’s okay. Stop torturing yourself. Once this is done, let’s go home and stop fighting it.”
“We’ll be going at it for weeks,” he warned her, all the smoothness scraped from his drawl. “What about the trunks? All of Vanderpoel’s shit? Don’t you want more time to?—”
“Antonin’s dead. He can wait.”
Silas’s expression remained tight, but his grip on her wrist slackened. Petra’s lips curled into a soft smile as she began to work on popping the button through the loop. She knew she had to be fast, since they were rapidly approaching the meeting time, but she relished the way he watched her, how he let her take control for just a moment.
His eyes went heavy-lidded when she eased his zipper down. “I love touching you,” she whispered against his lips. Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs. A hiss escaped from between his teeth when she closed her fingers around the hot bar of his cock.
“I love this perfect cock.” She dipped her tongue past the seam of his lips, tasting him, before she playfully retreated. The bridge of his nose wrinkled again when he bared his fangs and lunged for her.
Before he could make contact, she tightened her fingers in the soft chestnut curls that draped over the nape of his neck, forcing him to stop short. Silas’s expression contorted with disbelief.
“Are you trying to dominate me?” he demanded, baffled.
Petra glided her palm up his shaft, barely touching it, until she found the slick, ruddy head. It was already wet, and when she gave it a small squeeze, another trickle of lubrication pooled in the juncture between her thumb and pointer finger.Demons,she thought, intensely appreciative,are definitely built a little different.
“No,” she answered him. “I’m just making sure we don’t get carried away. I’m taking care of you, demon.”
Silas scowled. If it weren’t for the way his hips tilted into her hand, she would have thought he barely noticed how she’d begun to stroke his cock, slow and steady. “I want to kiss you.”
“You can always kiss me.” Petra was a little surprised to realize she meant it. She’d never been particularly physically affectionate — no doubt a result of her dysfunctional childhood — but when it came to Silas, she couldn’t get enough. She was always chasing that warm, fuzzy feeling of relief his touch brought.
Leaning in close again, she pressed soft, hungry kisses to his waiting mouth. He made rough growly noises at her whenever she stopped him from going deeper, but he didn’t force the issue, either. They both knew he could’ve and she wouldn’t have complained. Not really.
But he let her have her way, and that heady feeling of power returned with a vengeance. For all that Silas loved to dominate her, he was right. All the power was truly in her hands. If she wanted to use him, to lavish him with attention for a change, all she had to do was say so.
Whispering between luscious kisses, she said, “You’re mine.”
“Yes,” he hissed, rocking his hips in time with her steady strokes. Wet sounds filled the car with every rhythmic pull. She’d have to sanitize her hand — and probably other things — after this was done, but she couldn’t have cared less.
Silas’s deep chest expanded with every panting breath. One hand curled into her hair, but he didn’t use it to control her like he normally did. He simply held on as his eyes squeezed shut.
Petra watched him in awe, greedy for the flush that rose in his pale cheeks, the shine on his parted lips, and the furrow ofhis brow. She tightened her grip and watched as the sensation rippled through his expression, tensing it in a way that almost looked like pain.
“Let go, demon.” Aware that they were running out of time, she picked up her pace. Peppering his cheeks, eyes, and lips with soft kisses, she crooned, “You’re mine and I love taking care of you. I love doing this for you. Let me take a little bit of the ache for you.”
His head dropped to her shoulder with a low, pained groan. “Fuck,” he rasped into her neck. “Why does this feel like I’m the onebeing punished?”
“Because you like being in control? Letting that go must be hard.”
“It’s not about control. It’s aboutowningyou.”
Petra twisted her wrist on the upstroke and paused, gripping the head of his cock in a tight, possessive hold. “You think I would do this for a man who didn’t own me?” Pressing her cheek into the curve of his horn, she admitted, “Nothing makes sense to me anymore, Silas. The world just keeps— it all seems so fucked up and surreal and like it keeps slipping out from under my feet. But not you. Not this. You’re theonlything in my life that feels like it’s exactly as it should be.”
Max was dead, she’d killed a man, wraiths were real, and now she had a horrifying piece of history sitting in her lap, waiting to rip open untold wounds.
But Silas wasright.How she felt when they were together wasright.How they fit like two fucked up puzzle pieces wasright.
The parts of him that had scared her seemed so small and unimportant under the light of what she now knew — that Silas was a monster who would die for her, who accepted her for whoever she chose to be, and who belonged to her now.
He panted into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, dampening her skin with his breath. He blazed with heat under her slick palm. Her arm was beginning to cramp a little and the angle she had to contort herself into wasn’t ideal for her lower back, but she didn’t mind. Especially when he began to thrust his hips in earnest, like he just couldn’t help but seek more, to shuttle his cock through the mess coating her hand.
“Yes, yes, yes,” he chanted, barely audible.
Combing her fingers through his curls, she murmured, “Come for me, sweetheart.”
