Her struggles stopped, but the stubborn glint in her eye said she wasn’t done. “Would it bring you pleasure?”
Fucking over the clouds. He wouldn’t admit it.
But the woman was a bloodhound and wouldn’t accept less than all his secrets. “Your ear wiggled.”
Damn it!
“Yes.” He dropped her hands and ran his own through his hair. “Men like getting their cock in a willing woman’s mouth. It’s crude and undignified and feels like having your personal demons sucked out of your body by an angel. But the mere thought ofyouputting your mouth on me...” He grasped himself in hand and rubbed the white that beaded out around his crown with his thumb. “God, I don’t think I’d survive.”
His words registered in her eyes, and the answering call of desire pushed his back to the alley wall.
She didn’t beg or flirt. Without looking away, she slid her hand down his length and pressed pursed lips to his tip.
Percy knocked his head against the wall, the last of his willpower fading in a last effort whisper of reason. “Danny, I wasteasing.”
She smiled, that sunlit halo behind her head setting off a predatory glow in her eyes. “Then you challenged the wrong lady, sir.”
And she dragged him up to heaven.
*
The wanton ladyon her knees was another woman. Danny had no idea where she’d come from or how she knew how to drag her tongue along the velvet of him before drawing him inside, but she reveled in the feeling, in the sense of control.
He tasted like salt and unfettered lust. The very length and solid feel of him against her tongue was like a blunt blade, at any moment ready to twist and cut her innocence in two.
Danny dug her nails into his hips, needing him deeper, needing all of him inside.
The tip of him hit the back of her throat and liquid heat slipped down her thighs.
She sighed.
“Danny.”
His hands fisted in her hair, ruining her coif and shooting sensation to her toes.
“Danny,” he said again. “Stop this.”
Never.
But she heard his reservations and shame, so much like her own buried where no one was supposed to see, and she wouldn’t deny him his consent.
She slipped him out of her mouth, sucking the full length of him until the suction on his tip dropped more of that salty white onto her tongue. With effort, she looked away from the sword she desperately wanted to sheathe, and asked, “Shall I stop, Percy?”
She dared him to lie. Daredhimto deny what they both wanted. She’d leave it to him to decide. He was a worldly man who’d been through unspeakable things. If he meant what he’d said about his tastes being demonic, then she wanted to sink into hell to meet his needs, needs she was quickly coming to realize matched hers.
There was no fear, no shame. Whoever this man brought out in her was the real her. She’d wasted three long years pretending.
No longer.
She willed her desires to show on her face. Willed her fantasies not to send her over the edge even as her legs grew slippery with arousal for him, for this.
He saw it all. Gaze going wild, he twisted his fingers in her hair and growled, “Saints above, forgive me.”
Grip tightening, he impaled himself into her waiting mouth and all other prayers and coherent thoughts were lost in a tight rhythm that left them both panting.
In, out, in, out. Each brush of that saltiness on the back of her throat drove her to rush his pace, needing more. Apple scones were nothing compared to the all-male, all savory, and hot taste of him. She only hoped there was more; the inconsistent trickle of moisture he gave her wasn’t enough.
He took over the rhythm, pumping into her mouth with inhuman grunts. His loss of control was too much.
