Night of the Tiger (Hades' Carnival) (9 page)

Determined, she allowed her hand to rest on the edge of the quilt.
Just a quick peek
, she promised herself. There was no reason why she shouldn’t and every reason why she should. It was her dream after all. And how often in her life did a woman get to examine such a gorgeous hunk of man, even if he wasn’t real? Tentatively, she lifted the quilt and eased it down to the tops of his thighs.

Her mouth went dry. “Oh my,” she whispered. Now she knew without a doubt that this was definitely a figment of her imagination.

His cock was broad and long as it pushed upward toward his bellybutton. Deep blue veins pulsed up and down the hard length. His erection seemed to thicken before her very eyes. The head was wider than the shaft, plum-shaped and deep red. A bead of liquid pearled at the slit in the crown.

Aimee swallowed and let her gaze shift downward. A heavy sac rode low between his thighs, lightly furred like the rest of his groin. He was magnificent.

She opened and closed her hand reflexively as she reached for him. Her fingers hovered over him momentarily, almost not daring to touch him. Slowly, she lowered her hand and wrapped her fingers around his impressive erection.

Heat pulsed through her skin. His shaft jumped in her hand, flexing and expanding. Blood pounded in her ears and her breathing quickened. Heat flashed through her, and she shivered as her body reacted to his potent masculinity.

A low moan broke the silence of the room. Aimee’s eyes flew upward and met a burning blue gaze. He was awake.

She jerked her hand away, but quick as lightning, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. Not hurting her, but as good as an iron shackle. There was no escaping this man.

“Please.” His voice was low, almost hoarse, as he guided her hand back to his throbbing erection. His eyes narrowed and his lips were set in a firm line, almost as if he was steeling himself for disappointment. Her fingers automatically closed around his shaft.

“Perfect,” he moaned.

Touching him was having a definite effect on her body. Her breasts were swollen, heavy with arousal. Her nipples were taut, aching nubs. She felt restless. Unsettled. Cream flowed from her core, dampening her sex and her inner thighs. Aimee shifted her legs against the sheets, trying to find a comfortable position, but there was none to be found.

“Harder.” He covered her hand with his own, almost swallowing her much smaller one. The man was massive. Everywhere. His fingers pressed hers more securely against his erection and she squeezed his shaft, eliciting a groan of pleasure.

He pumped her hand up and down his cock, and she followed his guidance until she established the rhythm he liked. More liquid seeped from the tip of his penis, and Aimee was suddenly filled with the overwhelming need to know what he tasted like. Scooting down, she tentatively licked at the slit with the tip of her tongue. He was hot and musky and slightly salty. She loved it.

His lips parted, and he emitted a low moan as his hips bowed off the bed. She could feel his shaft rippling beneath her fingers. His pleasure filled an empty spot inside her, infusing her with contentment.

She lapped at the head of his cock again, swirling her tongue around it before sucking it into her mouth. A guttural growl came from deep in his chest. Aimee released him with a wet, popping sound and blew on the damp, sensitive flesh. Her fingers skated over his shaft, squeezing and shaping his thick length.

“Enough.” In one fluid motion, he removed her hand from his body and flipped her onto her back. She blinked and found herself staring up at him. He supported himself on his hands and knees as he knelt above her, the planes of his face harsh and unforgiving. She should have been afraid. Instead, a sense of anticipation thrummed through her.

She slid her hands up his massive forearms and biceps, pausing briefly to massage his thick shoulders before linking her fingers behind his neck. “Why? I was having fun.”

Her question seemed to take him off-guard. He frowned and then one corner of his mouth quirked upward. The effect was devastating to her senses. He went from harsh to ruggedly handsome in a split second. She held her breath and prayed that he’d gift her with a real smile.

He shook his head and his mouth returned to its firm line, but his eyes twinkled with humor. “Most do not question me.”

“Why not?” Aimee was totally relaxed as she fingered his thick, touchable hair. After all, this was her dream and she was in charge.

He shook his head again as if uncertain how to answer her question. Instead, he lowered his mouth toward hers. Aimee held her breath as his lips skimmed hers. The touch was so brief she wasn’t sure it had actually happened. Her breasts tingled and her sex pulsed, vividly reminding her of the growing ache between her thighs.

For a man so hard, his lips were incredibly smooth and supple. She arched into the kiss, wanting—no, needing—deeper contact. He skimmed his tongue over her bottom lip before catching it between his teeth and nipping lightly. Aimee shivered, a combination of fear and desire.

This man was strong, elemental and totally unstoppable.

As if he sensed her unease, he pulled back and stared down at her. It took her a second to realize he was waiting. Waiting for her to decide what happened next. In unspoken words, he was letting her know she was in charge. Nothing would happen that she didn’t want.

Her doubts melted away, replaced by a flood of desire so thick she had to gasp for breath. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she dragged his mouth back to hers. As if that was the signal he was waiting for, he let loose.

A low growl vibrated throughout his body as he swooped down and captured her mouth with his. There was no tentative touching this time. No gentle caress. This was a claiming, pure and simple.

His tongue swept inward, raking over her teeth, her tongue and the walls of her mouth. Heat swamped her body as she clung to his shoulders and returned his kiss measure for measure.

He tilted his head, deepening the contact. Aimee couldn’t breathe, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was he was touching her, tasting her, consuming her.

Her legs parted and he filled the space, his erection cradled against her mound. The shock of his hard, naked flesh against hers was overwhelming and absolutely delicious. Planting her feet on the mattress, she pushed upward, deepening the contact. Her clit brushed against his swollen length, sending bolts of pleasure rocketing throughout her. She was wet and her juices coated his shaft, making him slide more easily with each thrust.

He pulled away and peppered her face with hard, desperate kisses—her forehead, her cheeks, her nose and her jawline. No spot was left unattended. Aimee moaned as he nipped at her throat before laving the tender spot with his tongue. There was an untamed quality about her dream lover that reached deep inside her and ignited a part of her that had lain dormant until now. It surprised her that she liked the fact he was slightly rough, untamed and totally unpredictable.

He settled one of his massive hands over her right breast and squeezed. Her nipple stabbed at the center of his palm, a stark testament to her deep desire for him. He shifted lower and his hair brushed her skin, drawing another moan from deep within her. It felt exactly like the brush of fur—soft and decadent against her naked flesh. She longed to feel the sweep of his hair over other sensitive parts of her body.

He swirled his tongue around her nipple before swiping over the puckered nub. His tongue was slightly rough in texture, adding to the erotic sensations rocketing through her body. Every nerve ending in Aimee’s body felt electrically charged, and her toes curled into the sheets. His mouth was warm and moist as it settled over her breast. He drew her nipple into his mouth and suckled.

“Ohmygod,” she groaned, tunneling her fingers through his hair to keep him close.

She felt his lips curve upward and knew he was smiling against her breast. She didn’t care if he found her amusing. Just so long as he didn’t stop what he was doing.

He released her suddenly and blew on her damp flesh. She tried to drag him back, but he resisted. Goose bumps formed on her skin, sending a shiver of pleasure racing across her torso and down between her thighs.

Shifting lower, he nibbled his way down her rib cage. Aimee hated the fact that his erection was no longer pressed against her, but she loved the feel of his mouth and lips and tongue against her skin. The man certainly knew how to press her buttons. She’d never felt this aroused before, every inch of her body on fire. Her skin, indeed, her entire being, cried out for completion, cried out for him.

Her fingertips dug into his shoulders, gripping him tight. Muscles rippled. Once again, she marveled at the sheer size and bulk of her lover. He was solid, something to cling to as a wild maelstrom of emotions and sensations buffeted her.

He stopped at her bellybutton and dipped his tongue inside, swirling it around. His hair tickled the sensitive skin of her stomach, and she giggled and groaned at the same time.

He did it again and Aimee laughed. He raised his head. She froze, pinned by the intensity of his icy blue eyes. But they weren’t cold. No. They were hot, filled with unadulterated lust.

Aimee’s head swam. This incredible-looking man really wanted her. The situation was beyond anything in her experience. Thankfully, it was a dream or she’d have been scared out of her wits and self-conscious about the scars marring her body.

For a moment, she wondered if this dream would turn bad at some point. Her other erotic dream featuring this same lover certainly hadn’t, but then she’d awakened before it had gone too far. She didn’t have many good dreams, normal dreams. Only the ones with her tiger in them ended without fear and terror.

She chuckled. This was simply an old-fashioned, run-of-the-mill erotic dream brought forward by her subconscious to tell her she needed a lover. No surprise there. It had been a long, long time since a flesh-and-blood male had shared her bed, and she hadn’t really missed it until now.

He sat back on his haunches between her spread thighs, letting his hands roam from her knee all the way up to the sensitive juncture of her legs where her torso and thighs met. Breathless, Aimee willed his hands to go higher, to touch her where she ached the most.

A whimper escaped her as she tilted her hips toward him, silently encouraging him. He sifted his fingers through her pubic hair, the short, silken curls. He gave a grunt of satisfaction and did it again.

“Touch me,” she whispered. He had to touch her or she’d go insane. She felt empty inside, and only he could fill her.

He drifted his fingers lower, skimming her slick folds. Aimee cried out, clenching her eyes shut, riding a wave of desire so intense it took her breath away. She was so close to coming.

He settled himself between her legs, his broad shoulders shoving her thighs even wider. Her eyes flew open just as hot breath caressed her tender flesh. He dragged his tongue over her swollen folds, lingering here and there—tasting, tempting, teasing.

Aimee gripped the sheets by her sides, her fingers curling, digging into the fabric. She was on the edge, ready to explode and fly apart at any second. It was too much.

It wasn’t nearly enough.

Two thick fingers pushed past the initial resistance of her body and filled her tight channel. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead as he eased his fingers back to the edge of her opening and pressed them inward once again, stretching her, preparing her. It hurt slightly, but it felt so incredibly good too.

When his fingers sank deep a third time, he captured her swollen clit between his lips and sucked. It was like being struck by lightning. Aimee cried out, muscles tensing. Every cell in her body exploded in a flash of light. She shivered and shook as liquid spilled over his hand and trickled down her thighs.

He made a long, purring sound deep in his throat. The vibration sent her over the edge again. She felt the sheet give way beneath her fingers, the loud rip mixing with her moan of release.

When it was over, Aimee sank deep into the mattress, totally replete from the most intense climax she’d ever experienced. Her eyes fluttered open as he lifted his head. He licked his lips and she knew he tasted her passion. The erotic gesture sent another pulse of pleasure catapulting through her.

He was big and tough and totally aroused.

“Now it’s my turn.” His rough voice sent a shiver down her spine.

The sweet taste of her was more potent than the finest wine, and Roric felt half drunk with pleasure. Hunger roared through him as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, savoring the thick, rich cream that had flowed from her. He had to have more.

His senses were heightened after thousands of years of imprisonment. Sounds were louder, colors were brighter, smells were sharper and the taste of sweet woman was a heady rush.

Being aware of his surroundings, but being unable to really feel, touch, taste or experience for thousands of years had almost driven him mad. He and his companions were all cognizant of the world around them, yet not a part of it. They might not have been imprisoned in Hades’ domain, but they were in Hell nonetheless.

But that was over. Done with. Finished.

He’d die before he’d go back.

The woman staring up at him with expressive, passion-filled green eyes had broken the spell, releasing him from his prison. They’d all been aware of her from the moment she’d entered the tent. Her scent, her mere presence, had surrounded the carousel. He’d been able to sense the pain and hopefulness of his remaining friends, each of them wanting to be the one she was drawn to, the one she chose.