Pandora's Ring (10 page)

“Yep.” He nosed her neck. “But given you can see me properly…an assurance seemed appropriate.”

She bent her neck back. His touch was still cool, gentle and smooth. Like silk, she realized. Cool silk. “I guess I should insist you refrain from fingering me with those claws.”

He stopped, and then gave a surprised laugh into her ear, pulled her into his lap. She acquiesced, already feeling better now she had some hope of life. Maybe he was tricking her, but she’d already invited him to take her soul. If he did, she’d be at peace. If he didn’t, she’d be at peace. When he pressed his lips against her neck, she could just enjoy the warmth of his skin against hers. “Don’t worry. I have a talented tongue to make up for it.”

“Is what they say about demonic endowment true?”

“We do have cloven hooves, so you could say we were hung like a bull…but I’ll let you decide when we get there.” He paused to capture her lips again, cradling her neck.

Every time he kissed her it grew more natural. When he wasn’t fixing some catastrophic organ failure, he was a very good kisser. It felt wonderful, deep, like she could trust him. She wasn’t afraid. Was it a good idea to trust him? Maybe not. But the fact was, as far as she’d seen, he’d waded into a fight he couldn’t hope to win against Cyrene, and then refused to fulfill his assignment, no matter how easy it would have been. Suddenly, she frowned. “How much trouble are you going to be in for this?” she asked. “Fixing me when you should be breaking me?”

Eli didn’t pause as he bent and nibbled on her neck, which drew a faint gasp. “Not a clue,” he replied after he had her shivering. “No, really, this is pretty much unheard of.”

She drew the shreds of her shirt off so Eli’s lips could go further down her collarbone and chest. Eli stopped dead, gaze pained and aching. “Samantha,” he murmured, brushing her skin.

She looked down. Her chest was a mosaic of blood, scratches and burns. She couldn’t even feel most of it. “I didn’t know it was so bad,” she said. “My back too?”

He nodded, looking hesitant. He was pausing and she could see it wasn’t because he questioned her beauty. The guilt on his face was unmistakable. “Eli. It’s okay. After all of this, you’re not going to break me.”

He smiled. “No,” he said. “No, I guess I won’t, will I?” With a relieved smile, he leaned forward and kissed her deeply. His hand fell on her breast, and he gently used his claws to twist and pull at a dusky nipple. At first, it was soft and supple, but as she moaned and pressed into his touch, she could feel the blood gather, skin pucker, and stiffen. He pressed her into the bed, shifting her away from the spot she’d lain the whole night and most of the day so she was closer to where he had been. The sheets there weren’t stained with blood and sweat–idly she wondered how in the world they were going to explain that.

His lips touched hers again. Could he do more things with that connection than save her life? Because the flush of heat through her stomach said yes. She felt euphoric, calm, peaceful, as he touched his hand to her breast and massaged, pulling at one nipple.

“Eli,” she gasped through the kiss. “Oh.”

“Yes,” he replied, moved his knee over her hips and straddled her, playing with her other nipple with his free hand.

She moaned. He drew his lips over her neck, and her skin tingled, waves of sensation swept down her body. She arched her hips, found his, ground up. He twisted his finger and she moaned again.

“Do you feel better?”

She opened one eye, looked at him and realized he was worried. “This is my o-face, okay? Just shut up and keep on with the foreplay!”

He looked shocked at first, but then laughed and leaned down to kiss her again, resuming. His claws never pierced her, but dragged just above the skin, and she shivered, not only at his touch, but at the knowledge he was being so careful, so loving as he kissed her and stroked her. So quiet, she thought. It felt amazing to be alone in her head again. She snaked her arms around Eli’s neck and pulled him closer.

* * * *

Eli settled his weight on Samantha’s hips, letting her grind on him. The temptation to pull her legs up and sink in was certainly inviting, but that was why his pants were still on. If she liked the foreplay, he wasn’t about to rush it. And, now going by her moans and whimpers, she was definitely enjoying it. He took a moment to drink in the sight of her writhing under his hands, knowing it would probably be the only time he was able to see it. No doubt hell would be nipping at their heels tomorrow, and he had no real way to protect her. But for now, he just wanted her to survive the night with him.

He slowly leaned down flicked out his tongue and tasted her breast, staying away from the bloody hole Cyrene had ripped. He was rewarded with a faint moan. “Yes, Eli, yes.”

While gently sucking at the nipple, he brought his knees back and together so he knelt between her legs now. Damn, he was pitching a tent. It would be downright embarrassing if she cared. He knew she didn’t, because he could feel her, a great bubble of light containing countless other lights. Maybe that’s what had transformed her from the mousy-haired girl in Starbucks to the goddess he now worshiped. He took her face in his hands, and kissing her again, drew off her pants and then pushed her legs open. Samantha gasped. His claws played at the edge of her panties against her hip bone. She glanced down and gasped in horror.
 
At first he thought that their blissful evening was about to be cut short. “Oh my God, I’m sorry,” she said. “That… oh God, those are the worst granny panties ever!”

Eli blinked trying to figure out what she was talking about, and then finally found her squirming to cover her underwear with her hands. Not her body, he noted with amusement. Her underwear. “You know, if you hadn’t said anything I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“How could you not,” she squeaked. “There’s a rip in this seam and, God, please, please don’t look at the crotch.” She gave him an earnest look. “Pretty please? I’ll hit you if you do.”

He stared, and then he laughed, took her hands, and kissed her to silence any further worrying. When he pulled up, he grinned. “How about this? I cover my eyes, you take off the–ah–granny panties, and hide them. Then tell me when it’s all clear. Sound good? Mind you, this is the silliest sex I have ever had.”

She nodded. “Including all those demon deals?”

“Definitely. And I once gave a guy unlimited balloons in a deal.” He sat up and covered his eyes.

He could hear her shift, feel her legs slide around him and then up in front of him. “
Balloons?
” she asked.

“Some people have…” He paused as her hand brushed his thigh as she shimmied the offending underwear off. “Very peculiar kinks.”

“Wow,” she muttered, and he heard her roll over. Knowing her back was turned, he peeked. Her chosen hiding place was between the mattress and the headboard on her side. Note to self. He shut his eyes tight again. She settled back, meticulously in the same spot she had left. “Okay, you can open your eyes.”

Smiling in faint disbelief at what had just happened, he did so. “I didn’t peg you for a full on shaver,” he said, appreciating the smooth v-shape.

“Shaving is annoying, but in the long run it feels nicer.” She stroked his chest. “I like smooth things.”

“You’ll be happy to know there isn’t a hair on me, then,” he said, chuckling. He tossed his hair. “Other than this, of course.”

“Are you circumcised?” she asked, curiously palming the now slightly deflated lump in his pants.

He barked a laugh. “You could always find out for yourself.”

“But the time I’m doing that I’ll be busy.” She pouted.

He laughed. “No, not circumcised. According to rumor, the Angels are, though.”

“What for?”

He shrugged. “Biblical law, tradition, I don’t know. Whatever. Are we going to get back on task or talk all night?”

Samantha sighed long-sufferingly. “It’s just so nice to be sane enough to talk again.”

“Yes,” he said, leaned in, took her hands and pulled her up. He kissed her until she relaxed into his arms then pulled back. “I’m glad you’re sane again too. So let’s keep it that way, all right? Right now you’re just running on my fumes.”

Her eyes were closed, lips half parted. Yep, he was hard as rock again. She shook her head. “Okay, okay, I ruined the romance with the underwear, but did you have to bring up my imminent death?”

Eli chuckled and slid her down onto the bed again. “Let’s see if I can’t make it up to you, hmm?” He pushed himself back and dipped his head between her legs.

* * * *

She was shocked at how simply he went for it. Men tended to make a big production of kissing up and down legs and over hips, making absolutely certain she knew what they were doing.
Get to the show
, she always wanted to say, the tease was doing nothing at that point.

Eli didn’t tease. His tongue lapped over her in a broad stroke, sending shivers up her spine with its warmth. Her body tingled and she shifted, breath catching as she craned to watch him. His hair fell over one shoulder, setting off white skin and crimson lips which lifted, then connected to her skin again. God, he was beautiful in such a peculiar way. Maybe it was that he was proving to be the only constant in her life lately, maybe because he’d saved her life more times than fingers on her hand. Whatever.

He licked again. She had to close her eyes against a moan, and shifted her legs open more. “Eli…”

He didn’t reply. She didn’t want him to, because soon his tongue narrowed and he pressed deeper.
 
He gently spread her further with his hand so he could pleasure her with precision, the pressure and warmth of his tongue flickering over her with every bit of talent as her own fingers. Lord, was that a compliment! The voices gone, she could lie back and enjoy. A haze of simple pleasure came over her as he pushed her legs up and back until her knees were nearly even with her shoulders. It spread her more, which gave him better access. God, but she couldn’t complain.

He zeroed in, moving over and over her with his tongue, faster than she knew any normal man could have done. “There, God, Eli!” She thrashed as she felt the first spark.
Please don’t stop, please don’t stop,
she chanted over and over, and the words eventually found their way to her lips, panted and whimpered. “Please don’t stop, please, please, oh, oh!”

He didn’t stop. Her back arched, the quivering wave of orgasm poised just above her, so close, if he just kept going. “More, more…yes, Eli…” She concentrated hard, reaching out, feeding the spark and beckoning it closer, and finally their combined efforts left her gasping and arching as the climax crashed over. At first, she tried to muffle the cries, but it was futile. This was her proof she was alive, and by God, she was going to savor it.

* * * *

Her moans and cries were music. She’d begged him not to stop, and if he’d been able he would have told her he wouldn’t be stopping until she could sleep soundly. Until he could carry her into the shower and wash the sweat and blood from her skin, leave only the memory of his seed in her. There would be no children, of course, but oh how that connection would burn in his mind.

As he let her down gently, lapping slowly, she opened her eyes to look at him. “Wow,” she murmured. “So, Damned tongues.”

“Damned tongues.” He grinned with all teeth on display. “And not a nick on you.”

“Damn, you’re good.” She hummed, and sat up enough, she grabbed his hands and pulled him down, kissed him thoroughly. She moaned faintly, pushing her tongue in closer, and he realized she was tasting herself on his lips.

Suddenly, he wanted her worse than ever. His pants were abrasive, restricting, and she was so warm and beautiful he could hardly stand it. Still kissing her, Eli unbuttoned his pants, and found her helping him, pushing the fabric past his hips, down his thighs until he had to rise to kick them off, and then hurry back to her and press close and hot against her.

Her fingers trailed through his hair and she sighed into his kiss. They were still, reveling in the kiss, savoring the pause before the plunge. Eli focused his gaze on her face, now smooth and calm after the hours of torment she’d endured . He twitched, but stayed right where he was, stroking her hair.

It had never been like this before. He’d consummated deals with sex, and it had been just a job. He’d derived no joy from the Damned’s need for souls. Here, with her, he wasn’t the parched man dying of thirst. He was the disciple trying to worship his goddess. And if she would have him then he was willing to bow down in any way to give her pleasure.