Every taste, smell, sound, became magnified. It was as though her body was a huge net, capturing all sensations and funneling them straight to her sex. She clenched her thighs to ease the ache, but the delicious pressure only intensified her need.
She wanted more of him, and she sucked hungrily on his cock, stroking him with her fist.
“Tayla,” he gasped, “you need to stop.” He grasped her shoulders and tugged.
“No.” Determination and desire kept her on her knees, one hand working his shaft, the other caressing his balls, which grew tight, drawing closer to his body with every stroke. “I need this.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Shut up and let me suck you.” She closed her mouth around the velvety head and flicked her tongue along the smooth ridge.
His curses filled the air as his fluids filled her mouth. She swallowed greedily, moaning at the taste of him . . . bold and dark, utterly male. A second later, waves of heat broke over her, and she cried out as her entire body came alive. Her skin became one big nerve, and where his fingers lay, tiny sparks, miniorgasms, fired up.
Oh, wow. This was going to be interesting.
Eidolon pulled out of the hot, wet depths of Tayla’s mouth, the high of cl**ax tempered with the concern over how she’d react to his seed. Already her eyes had dilated and glazed over.
“Oh, man,” she whispered. “Oh, boy.”
He hooked her beneath her arms and brought her to her feet. “My s**en is an aphrodisiac.”
Closing her eyes, she cupped her breasts, letting her thumbs graze the stiff nipples. “Yeah, no kidding.”
Watching her pleasure herself made him instantly hard again. “My bed,” he croaked. “Now.”
She didn’t seem to hear, instead was running her palms down her belly and between her legs. A low moan escaped her, shattering his control. He swept her up in his arms and strode to the bedroom, thanking the gods when her mouth attached to his neck and began to suck. Before they reached the bed, she wrapped her legs around his waist and impaled herself on his shaft.
“Damn.” Her silky passage sucked him deep, going deeper as she ground herself against him. Legs threatening to buckle, he sank down onto the bed before they crashed to the floor. She pushed him back and rode him furiously until he came, but she didn’t.
“Another position,” she gasped, and he flipped her, brought her up on her knees, and took her from behind.
Her body shook, trembled with such force that she nearly bucked him away from her.
“Please . . .”
Gods, he couldn’t breathe, could hardly stand the force it took to not come again. Grinding his molars, he pounded into her even harder, faster, until her sobs brought him to a stop.
“Don’t stop, Eidolon, don’t.”
He withdrew and inserted a finger into her slick heat. Her moan drifted up to him, a sound of pleasure and misery. Slowly, he spread the moisture they’d made, the satin lubricant of her desire and his seed, over her swollen knot.
“Oh, yes.” She arched her back like a Halloween cat. “Now . . .”
He plunged inside her in one smooth motion, and she cried out, her muscles clenching him and holding him inside. He rammed her hard, let her excitement guide his speed and rhythm.
“Come Tayla. Come for me.”
She fell forward on the bed with a scream, but it was one of frustration. She flipped herself, wrapped her legs around his waist and drew him on top of her. Tears ran down her cheeks and sweat dampened her hair and skin.
“It isn’t working!” she cried, her anxiety intensified by the aphrodisiac pounding through her veins.
“I’ll back off, lirsha, and you can make yourself cl**ax.”
Anger lashed at her expression. “No. No, dammit! I want to be normal! I want to come with a man.”
“Tayla, not all human females—”
Her hand slammed into his shoulder. “I can. I know I can. I just have to get rid of him.”
He froze. “Him?”
In the shadows, her eyes sparked. “Him. The demon.” Suddenly, she was flailing at his chest, pummeling him with her fists. “I hate them,” she sobbed. “I hate them . . .”
He closed his eyes and let her take it out on him, let her strike him until her strength gave out and her sobs became uncontrollable. Until she lay limp beneath him, little more than a quivering mass of flesh and tears.
Rolling to his side, he pulled her against him, let her cry for what seemed like hours, her body heaving.
“Tayla, tell me what’s wrong.”
“I can’t . . . I can’t get it out of my head.” A shudder wracked her body. He was still buried deep inside her, still hard, and her shaking made him suck air.
“What?” he managed, needing to know because alongside the arousal was a fierce need to kill whoever had traumatized her. “What can’t you get out of your head?”
Tayla burrowed into Eidolon’s chest, wishing he’d stop asking, stop acting as if he cared. Because every touch, every gentle word, broke down her walls when she should be building them stronger. People who cared about her had a habit of dying . . . or trying to kill her.
For a long time, she listened to the sound of his breathing and the beat of his heart. He said nothing, wearing her down with her own thoughts. Finally, she pulled back a little.
“I was sixteen,” she said, her voice sounding raw to her ears. “I came home from school and heard strange noises from the kitchen. I saw her, my mom. She was on the table. Being raped.”
Eidolon had been stroking her hair, and his hand stilled. “Demon?”
“Soulshredder.”
“Gods,” he whispered. “It doesn’t get much worse than that.”
No, it didn’t. Soulshredders got off on tormenting their victims, slowly, over long periods of time, driving them mad rather than killing them outright.
“I tried to fight, but . . . it was strong and I was terrified . . . it lashed me to a chair and forced me to watch as it raped her, over and over. She couldn’t scream because it had gagged her.” A dishtowel had plugged her mom’s mouth, the spaghetti stains from the previous night’s dinner distinguishable from the blood. Her flesh had been plowed by serrated claws. She’d looked like a bear’s scratching post, and the smell of her blood had been powerful enough for Tayla to taste.
“Then . . . oh, God.”
“Go ahead,” he murmured. “You can tell me.”
She closed her eyes tight, as though doing so would shut out the images, but they only grew more vivid.
“She . . . came. He was raping her, and she . . . she came.”
Eidolon hooked a finger under her chin. “Look at me. Look at me.” Reluctantly, she did. His expression was one of savage determination. “That’s why you can’t have an orgasm with a man, isn’t it?”
She tried to wrench out of his grasp, but he framed her face with both hands. “She liked it,” Tayla said, her voice rough and raspy and on the verge of breaking. “She was being tortured, raped, and she . . . she got off.”
“Listen to me, Tay. The Soulshredder was messing with you. And her. They have the ability to force someone to feel pleasure in the midst of pain. It’s another way to torture them, to humiliate them. And look how it worked. Look how he’s been tormenting you for years with this memory.” His thumb brushed her cheekbone in long, soothing strokes. “Has that scene been playing out in your head every time you have sex?”
A sobbing sound escaped her as she swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Yes. Sometimes, even when it’s just me, all I can think about—”
“Stop. Don’t give him that power anymore.” His thumb dropped to her trembling lips, where he traced them, his touch light and gentle. “Has he returned to torment you since then?”
“No, but I wish he would,” she said fiercely. “I’d tear him apart.”
“You’re so strong,” he whispered. “So brave. Your fight against demons has been as internal as it has been external. You can win this battle.” He kissed away her tears. “Let me help you.”
“You want to heal me, doctor?” she asked softly.
Possessive eyes focused on her. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”
“Me, either,” she said, and Lord help her, it was true. The events of so long ago had stuck with her for so many years, had ruined her life, had ruined her ability to have a normal relationship with a man. It was time to let it go. Or, at least, try to let it go.
Her mouth found his in an urgent, desperate kiss. He was still inside her, hard and thick, and she ground against him, already losing herself to the passion he coaxed out of her with sinful ease.
A rumble of approval issued from deep in his chest, and he began a slow, sensual rhythm of thrusts. Always before, sex between them had been little more than a violent sprint to the finish, but this . . . this was already shaping up to be a marathon. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, deeply, tenderly. His tongue worked hers, sucking and stroking. Between her legs, tension mounted as he changed the tempo and depth of his thrusts, going from shallow and rapid to deep and slow.
“You’re beautiful, lirsha,” he murmured against her mouth. “Perfect.”
His words were a caress to the soul, and she felt herself opening up like a night-blooming flower. She no longer cared who or what she was, what he was, or what existed beyond the bedroom door.
She dragged her hands up from his h*ps to his waist, taking in the taut layers of muscle, the smoothness of his skin. She didn’t stop there, let her palms map his back until she reached his broad shoulders. He was a thing of beauty, a creature built to please a woman, from his looks to his scent to his skill in bed, and with every thrust, he took her higher.
“Say my name,” he purred, his voice vibrating through her in an erotic wave.
“Hellboy—”
“No.” He pushed up on his elbows. His eyes glittered, molten gold. He kept pumping though, and the slick friction had her panting, which she hadn’t realized until she tried to speak. “When you get close, look at me. Think only of me, and say my name. I want to hear you say it when you come.”
His admission sent a surge of passion roaring through her, as though her heart were connected to her sex by a white-hot wire.
“Yes,” she whispered, even though she doubted she’d come—no, she would. The past had no place in this bed.
He groaned and started to move faster. Sensation doubled, her pleasure climbing higher as the crown of his c**k slid back and forth across a place inside she hadn’t known existed. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the feel of masculine weight on her body, something she’d never enjoyed. But now it felt so right, so good, and oh, God, right there.
Her orgasm hovered close, hot. He dropped his forehead to hers, and her eyes flew open.
“Come for me, my lirsha, my lover,” he murmured, his gaze holding hers so she couldn’t look away, couldn’t see anything but the promise of ecstasy that rose up as though answering his command. “Come for me now.”
Quivering with the need to explode, she clung tighter, digging her short nails into his shoulders, scoring his skin. He hissed and arched, and if not for his throaty, “Gods, yes,” she’d have thought she hurt him.
She burned for him, smoked and sizzled. He was flame and she was fuel and when he did something sinful with his finger between them, she finally ignited. She came, bellowing out his name. He followed, his body going bowstring taut, his head falling back, his h*ps jackhammering into her. His warm, spurting seed splashed deep inside, triggering another powerful cl**ax that forced her to unwrap her legs from his waist in order to brace herself on the bed as her h*ps came off it.
As though the air had been let out of him, he sagged on top of her. He was heavy, crushingly heavy, but she didn’t care. She’d just had not one, but two orgasms when she’d never been able to come with a man.
Gratitude and something even stronger, an emotion she didn’t want to name, tripped through her as she stroked his muscular back, petting him, telling him with her hands what she didn’t have the breath to say.
Abruptly, he rolled off her, pulling her with him so she lay on her side, facing him. Male triumph lit his expression, bringing out the gold flecks in his dark eyes.
“That was—”
“Shh.” He pressed a finger to her lips and then drew it down her chin, her throat, her br**sts . . . all the way to her core. “You’re not through.”
“But—”
He made a harsh noise, shutting her up as he dipped two fingers inside her. “Remember what my seed does?” Before she could respond, he spread his moisture through her slit, coating her bud, which still tingled. She groaned, arching into his touch, but he withdrew. One big hand clenched her thigh. Eidolon was looking at her, lids lowered, gaze fierce. Slowly, he squeezed her legs together and pulled her close, the friction threatening to set her off again. He knew, was massaging her thigh to create tiny waves in her muscles.
“No,” she said, grasping his wrist. “Not alone.” The vulnerability of it all, coming apart while he watched, totally uninvolved, God.
“You’re going to come again. Don’t fight it.”
But she was fighting it. She felt so stupid, so exposed, and, as he kept tenderly caressing her, so freaking inflamed.
He leaned forward so their chests touched, so his lips brushed hers. “Trust it. Trust me.”
“No,” she moaned, but her body trusted him, and it took his words and ran with them. Pleasure spread in a tidal wave from her sex to her scalp. She thrashed, writhed, bit her tongue to keep from screaming.