“No running,” he says, as if I need the reminder.
My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth. I have too much going on in my head to actually say any of it. Modeus spins again, pushing into my space even more. “Now you know why I won’t leave,” he rasps out. “You pulled me from Hell, set me free, then captured my soul. There’s no way I could go back to watching you, not after touching your skin.” He rubs his cheek against mine in a soft caress. “Not after tasting you.” He slides his lips across my jaw and nibbles on my bottom lip. “Don’t make me go,” he pleads, as if I really might make him leave.
“How long?” I lean back and search his face. “Harlow knew.” It’s an accusation.
“Almost a year, and he knew,” Modeus admits.
“That’s why he said I could trust you.” I scan my thoughts for all the times Harlow mentioned the demon. I always dismissed him because I was too worried about being caught up in his allure, but now I know why I was so drawn to him from the first moment I saw him. I just assumed it was what he is and not what he is to me.
“Were you ever planning on telling me? I mean, if you hadn’t been forced into it today.” I’m a little pissed I was kept in the dark. Why did he and Harlow keep this from me?
“I wouldn’t have been able to hold off much longer, but Harlow was helping me…adjust.”
“Adjust to what?”
Modeus lifts his eyes to the ceiling, as if he’s thinking about his answer. “That I need more than just my instincts to take care of you,” he says after a slight pause.
“You don’t need to take care of me,” is my immediate response. My next thought is,it’s a two-way street, we can take care of each other,and that gives me a weird feeling in my stomach. Fucking hell, I’m going to turn into a cinnamon roll, and it’s his fault.
Modeus’ brows furrow and his lips flatten, reacting to my words. Thank the gods I don’t have to explain everything I’m thinking. “I’m not speaking about your physical prowess. I’m referring to the fact that you need more from me than what I was created for. I can’t just fuck you into oblivion so you forget about everything else in the world except how I can make you feel.”
I blink several times. The knowledge he’s capable of that, and the images now planted in my head, leave me a little stupefied. When I squeeze my thighs together, it doesn’t go unnoticed.
Modeus’ blue eyes seem to promise every thought his words evoked as he stares down at me. “I feel that ache between your legs as if it were my own.” He trails his fingers up the inside of my thigh, causing my breath to catch. That makes perfect sense, considering he’s the Prince of Lust. Modeus continues on his path until his finger slips between my lower lips.
My knees threaten to buckle, so I shift my leg a little. The movement has everything to do with keeping me on my feet, but it’s hard to ignore that it also spread my legs to give him better access. That same rumbling sound he made earlier comes from his chest again. It’s like an audible aphrodisiac. I feel myself grow wetter and more desperate for him. I want to ask if it’s his doing, but I really don’t care. What I care about is the way his finger is sliding back and forth, teasing my clit before he dips inside me just enough to make me want more. He repeats the process, leaving me unsure of which sensation I need more.
When Modeus leans down and captures my lips in a searing kiss, I let my eyes fall closed.
Tiny sparks of what feels like static dance along my skin, but it’s not painful, more like my nerve endings are all waking up. I can feel the air stir in the room as Modeus shifts, his breath blowing along my lips when he exhales. When the tip of his tongue brushes mine, I whimper into his mouth.
Gods, he must have been holding back when he fucked me. I think I would have passed out if I felt this level of pleasure the first time he touched me. Even with the sensory overload, I need to feel more of him.
“Please,” I whisper against his lips.
“Please what?” His voice is thick and deeper than I’ve ever heard it, but also soft enough to be called a murmur.
I bite my bottom lip, and the sting serves to ground me, but I still don’t know how to answer him. I need to come, but I don’t want him to stop touching me. The knife edge I’m riding is razor thin and so sharp, I feel like I might be split in two when I finally let go. “I need you.” I drag my nails down his arm, and Modeus hisses in a breath through his teeth.
In a blink, I’m flat on my back with him positioned between my legs. This time, when he pushes inside me, it’s so slow, I feel every inch of him stretching me.
The moment his hips press against mine, he tosses his head back, exposing his markings, which I now see as a gilded collar. He exhales a groan of pure pleasure that echoes through my body, proving the connection between us is already formed.
Reaching up, I hook my arm around his neck and roll us. Modeus peers up at me with parted lips, as if he was surprised by the change of position, and then his shoulders melt into the mattress as I straddle his hips. “You kept this from me for a year?” I lean down and lick his nipple while rolling my hips forward, allowing me to control how deep he is.
“I have a lot to make up for,” he agrees while latching onto my hips with a punishingly tight grip. “You should collect your due.” He runs his teeth over his bottom lip, then forces me down, so I sink farther onto his shaft.
While I adjust to the invasion, he rolls his hips forward, shattering any notion I might have had about being in control. He’s dominating me from the bottom while muttering words of surrender. Damn, he’s a dangerous dichotomy.
I brace my hand on his chest, but he doesn’t allow me to retreat. He forces me to take all of him and love every second of the beautiful torment.
When I can’t hold myself up anymore, I collapse against Modeus’ chest. He takes advantage by wrapping one arm around my back and locking his fingers around the nape of my neck before getting to work, lifting his hips and sliding in and out of me.
He hums sweetly near the side of my head. “You smell like petrichor and taste like heaven.” Maybe that’s why I want to sink my teeth into him—he smells divine to me too. “I’m going to leave you dripping with my cum so every time you move, you’ll feel how silky I left you.” That’s not so sweet, but I can’t say it’s any less pleasant.
I don’t respond. The part of my brain required for speech is completely shut off. I do make a soft sound though, a quiet plea.
“You like that, princess?” he rasps out while he rebuilds what I know of pleasure. It’s not fair that he can still think straight while I feel nearly catatonic, because I’m afraid to miss a single sensation.
