How to Worship a Goddess (4 page)

With an indrawn breath he pulled back, though she wouldn't let him go far. She kept her hands locked around his neck, allowing him only a few inches of breathing space. Not that he wanted more. What he really wanted was her naked and under him.

Lucy stared at him, her gaze as warm as her kiss had been. Inferno hot.

“Would you like to continue this somewhere more comfortable?” she asked.

He caught back the
Hell, yeah
on the tip of his tongue.

So he nodded. “Just show me the way.”

Her lips tilted in a seductive curve. Damn, the woman's mouth made him think dirty thoughts. Then she inclined her head toward the doorway across the room. “Through the kitchen to the stairs at the back.”

Yes, ma'am. He didn't have to be told twice. Making sure he held her securely, he headed out of the room, through the kitchen he barely took notice of, and up the darkened staircase. When he reached the top, he stopped, mesmerized by the sight.

“Holy shit, Lucy. This is amazing.”

The entire third floor was completely open. Moonlight poured in through three huge skylights, bathing the large bed in the center of the room in silver. Four white-marble columns held up the ceiling, and painted murals covered every square inch of wall.

The murals depicted woodland scenes, satyrs and fairies eating and sleeping, dancing and fucking. The pictures were so incredibly lifelike, Brand thought he could pet the fur on the wolves and run his fingers through the hair on the fairies. Lucy smiled at his reaction. “They are beautiful, aren't they?”

She said it with so much pride, he asked, “Did you do this?”

She shook her head. “No. A friend painted them for me.”

Shit, that really shouldn't matter but his back straightened. “You've got a lot of those.”

Her smile broadened, as if she were amused. “Yes, I do. But not many have seen this.”

He got the message. “Then I'm honored.”

“I'm glad, but I think I'd also like you to be naked.”

Heat hit him square in the gut as he grinned. “I think I can accommodate that.”

“Then you'll have to put me down.”

He let her body slide down his, absorbing the feel of her lush breasts against his chest before he took a step back. Goddamn, he couldn't wait to get his hands on her, to taste her nipples and slip his fingers inside her pussy.

Naked, he needed to be naked. And so did she.

***

Lucy's gaze followed Brandon's hands as he unbuttoned his shirt and toed off his sneakers.

The man had huge hands, scarred and tough. She couldn't wait to feel them against her naked skin. Her skin fairly vibrated with her desire and she took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. She couldn't remember ever being this nervous with a man before.

She was a Goddess. She didn't do nerves.

But this man, this
eteri
, made her knees weak and her breasts ache in anticipation. And he hadn't even taken off his shirt yet. His big fingers eased the buttons through the holes, making her wonder if maybe Brandon had done some stripping on the side because he made taking off his clothes an art. His fingers worked the buttons, making her long to have them on her nipples, pinching and caressing. She went wet just thinking about it.

Each button revealed a tiny slice more of his golden skin, and when he finally got to the bottom and pulled the tails of his blue, button-down shirt out of his brown cargo pants, her gaze locked onto the masterpiece that was his body.

He had broad, strong shoulders, one that bore the scars of a long-ago operation. And his chest begged for her hands to run over the light mat of dark hair, to pet him. From his chest, her gaze dipped to six-pack abs so defined she wanted to follow each rise and valley with her tongue. But the prominent bruise that covered most of his left side forced her to reconsider her desire to throw him on the bed and fuck him until they both collapsed.

Blessed Goddess, that must be painful. How could he even bear to move his arm without flinching? Yet he did.

She stepped closer and lifted her hand but stopped just short of touching him. She wanted to make that bruise go away. It made her angry to see how it marred his gorgeous skin.

She had enough power to heal that injury. But what would she tell him when it miraculously disappeared?

I'm an ancient Etruscan Goddess who has just enough power to heal bruises.

Yeah, that would go over real well.

“You're hurt.”

He shrugged, those broad shoulders moving so beautifully. “No, not really.”

He was lying. She could tell by his nonchalant tone. And when she looked into his eyes, she saw he was worried about the injury. And that made her worry about it, too.

What was wrong with her tonight? It wasn't like this man was her mate. He was
eteri
. He was a fling for an evening, a man who had no idea who she really was. A man who wanted her simply because he thought she was desirable.

Not because she was Lusna, Etruscan Goddess of the Moon.

What would he say if she told him who she really was?

His hands moved to his pants and her thoughts fractured as he popped the button. They hung so low on his hips, the tip of his erection emerged as soon as he started to unzip them.

And, oh, Sweet Mother Goddess, his sex was just as gorgeous as the rest of him. His thick cock stood straight out from his body from a nest of dark curls, full and ruddy red, his balls heavy beneath. She wanted to go down on her knees and take him in her mouth. Something she'd never been able to do with any of her
Fata
or
Enu
lovers. They would've been scandalized.

She'd never had an
eteri
in her bed, had never met one who evoked this heated response from her. Was it hormonal, something to do with the moon cycle? The full moon would rise in only two days. No, she couldn't blame her reaction on the moon. She simply wanted
him
.

Stepping closer until she could feel his heated breath against her cheek, she reached for his waistband and helped him push the pants down his legs. Her fingers stroked against his thighs, the light coating of hair soft against her skin. And now bared for her pleasure. She went to her knees on the plush rug then, dragging his pants to his ankles as she went.

His hands settled on her shoulders, not drawing her closer, just resting there, kneading, stroking.

She let herself stare at him for a least a minute, watching how he pulsed and grew harder before her eyes. The thick vein on the side of his shaft throbbed at a faster pace and the head deepened to the shade of ruby.

She heard his breathing shallow out, rasping in his throat as she pursed her lips and blew on the tip. He groaned, his cock flexing and moving as his fingers tightened. But he didn't try to draw her closer. He didn't have to.

She closed the distance and opened her mouth over the silky, hot tip. The taste of musky male exploded on her tongue, and she gripped his hips and took him deep as he groaned out her name.

She stroked her tongue along his length before she sucked hard. Then she drew back, allowing her teeth to scrape along the skin until only the fat tip remained inside her mouth.

She repeated this motion several times, each time taking him deeper than the last. She lost herself in the taste and feel of him, his skin so soft on her tongue, the shaft hard and hot, the scent of his body intoxicating.

His groans lit a fire in her blood that made her fingers dig deeper into his skin, hold him tighter. She felt one of his hands brush along her cheek and around her lips, where they were wrapped around his cock. He stroked at the corner of her mouth before cupping her jaw.

Gently. Almost too tentatively. She didn't want tentative. She wanted him out of control.

She sucked on him harder, continuing to work him as his hand fell back to her shoulder and he pushed his fingers under the stretchy material of her dress, tunneling straight for her breasts.

She moaned around his cock when his fingers pinched at the puckered tips of her nipples. Her humming motion made his shaft throb.

He pulled back with a groan, and Lucy released his cock slowly, enjoying the tease.

Looking up, she saw his eyes closed tight and his mouth parted to draw in unsteady breaths.

“Give me a minute, babe. I don't wanna come yet.” His voice, a husky rumble like thunder in the night air, sent an erotic shiver down her back, inching her that much closer to the orgasm gathering low in her body.

She moved her leg a fraction of an inch, in preparation for standing, and Brand had his hands under arms and her on her feet in seconds. Again, his strength and the ease with which he moved her struck a deep chord in her.

She was no weakling. She could more than take care of herself if the situation arose. But she liked feeling small and protected with him.

She also liked how he took charge. A second after she found her feet, he pulled her dress down her shoulders. Her breasts popped out of the springy fabric, full and taut and high. No sagging. One of the perks of being an immortal female.

The look on Brand's face said he approved.

“Christ, you're gorgeous.” His calloused hands palmed her breasts and kneaded them, her womb clenching at the sensation and the rough need in his voice. He leaned down to lay his lips against her neck before stringing kisses along her jaw to her ear. “I want to devour you.”

“I have no problem with that.” She turned her head to lay her own kiss along his jaw. “But you'd better hurry before I go up in flames.”

She felt him smile against her cheek. “No way. I don't want to rush. Now that I'm here, I want to make this last all night. I want you so wrung out you can't move by the morning.”

His words made her moan, made her stomach clench with desire. Just the thought of what they could do to each other with the hours ahead of them, how they could pleasure each other, made her long to stop time, to halt the passage of the moon across the sky and indulge for as long as she wanted.

Turning her head, she whispered into his ear, “Then you'd better prepare for a workout, because I've got a lot of stamina.”

He pulled back long enough to stare into her eyes with a gaze hot enough to melt diamonds. “Honey, I can take whatever you dish out.”

Yes, he could. To a point. Just the thought of what she could let herself do with Brandon made her wetter than she'd ever been with anyone else.

“Then get on the bed, Number Seventeen. On your back and don't move.”

His eyes flared and a muscle in his jaw jumped. Letting her gaze travel down his body, she saw his cock twitch in response. She couldn't wait to feel him moving inside her.

Brandon didn't speak, his chest rising and falling as if he'd just done a set of wind sprints. Then he took a step backward and turned, letting her watch his absolutely perfect ass flex and hollow as he took the few steps to the bed.

Tinia's teat, the man's body—scars and all—should be classified a work of art. One that needed hands-on attention.

Her hands. On every part of him.

But first, she needed to get rid of her own clothes.

She waited until he'd climbed onto the bed and propped his hand under his head before she hooked her thumbs into the velvet and began to ease it down. She went slowly, the elastic material clinging to her skin, battling to stay in place while she tugged it off.

Brandon watched her every move with an intensity that made her wish she had more clothes to remove. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you looked at the situation—she was commando under the dress. Anything she wore would show through the velvet and completely ruin the line of the dress.

Of course, the look on his face made it obvious he appreciated the fact that she was now naked.

As she stared, he crooked his finger at her. Putting her hands on her hips, she smiled and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Are you trying to entice me to come over there, Mr. Stevenson?”

“Do you need to be enticed?”

She shrugged, watching his eyes dip for a few seconds to her breasts. “You could give it a try.”

His mouth curved in a grin so charming, she felt her knees actually wobble before he lowered his hand to his waist and flattened it against his defined abs.

As her mouth dried, she watched as he eased that hand down until he ringed the base of his cock with his thumb and forefinger. His big hand barely fit about the base. Oh my.

She'd known he was big from having him in her mouth, but seeing his hands demonstrate his size made her want to fall to her knees and sing his praises. Right before she crawled onto the bed and ravished him.

Instead, she stood mesmerized as he used his hand to stroke his erection. He pumped from root to tip, slow and steady. She watched him handle his cock with a tight grip, so tight she thought it had to hurt. Then again, this man had his body slammed into the boards three and sometimes four nights a week. He obviously knew what his body could take.

As he worked, she watched the ruddy red tip burn even darker as it appeared and disappeared in his fist. She took a step forward, then another, drawn by an erotic pull deep in her gut.

She had to touch his skin, feel his heat. Moisture drenched her sex and began to seep out of her body. She could smell her own arousal, mixed with Brandon's heat, and the combined scents made her body tense on the very tip of orgasm.

Great Mother Goddess, she felt her body clench, wanting to fall into ecstasy but not wanting to go without him.

By the time she reached the bed, Brandon had rolled onto his back, the motion of his hand increasing.

She couldn't decide if she wanted to watch him come all over himself or if she wanted him to release in her body.

Brandon made the decision for her by grabbing her hand and pulling her onto the bed next to him. In the next second, he covered her body, spreading her legs with his knees and holding her hands outstretched.