Page 59 of The Demigod

His hand reached out, framing my jaw, watching me with an intensity that had my stomach flip-flopping for a moment before his lips claimed mine.

I expected hard and hungry, borderline brutal.

But he was all soft and sweet, teasing, exploring. But that sweetness had little whimpers escaping me as I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close as the hot water cascaded down over us.

It wasn’t long before the need became too strong to ignore.

Hands roamed, teased, tantalized.

Daemon’s lips were on my neck when his fingers teased up my cleft, working my clit with his thumb as two of his fingers slid inside me.

He worked me in lazy strokes, driving me up slowly.

“Daemon, please,” I whimpered, rocking against his palm—needing more, needing him.

His fingers slid out of me, reaching to pull up one of my legs, then stepping closer.

His hardness rocked against my cleft for a moment. Then he was sliding deep inside of me. My moan mingled with his groan as he settled deep.

There was just intimacy then—gentle touches, soft moans, and this strange, swelling sensation in my chest as he moved inside me.

“Love how you moan when I’m deep inside you,” Daemon said, lips near my ear, making my sex clench around him. “You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, rocking into me, pushing me to the edge, then sending me tumbling over.

The orgasm was deep and long, leaving me clinging to Daemon as he pressed deeper, his body shuddering as he came.

We stayed just like that for a long time afterward, bodies connected, arms wrapped around each other.

Until the water started to run tepid, then just shy of cold, prompting us to pull apart, quickly washing and rinsing, then climbing out of the shower.

Somewhere along the journey, I managed to sleep through Daemon not only stopping for food, but also grabbing more clothing for himself—and a new jacket for me—as well as some other goodies.

Daemon slipped into his fresh clothes as I set up the tacos and dug in.

“What’s all this?” I asked, waving toward a mix of camping and cooking supplies.

“Arick had instructions for preparing the poppies if we couldn’t get the water. We have to boil them over a fire until the fluid reduces. Then let it sit for a few hours before taking out the poppies and putting the liquid in a bottle.”

So he’d gotten a pot and one of those little camping grills with extra bottles of butane.

“We haven’t talked about how we are going to get this in their drinks,” Daemon said, waving toward where he was dumping the flowers into the pot, then taking it into the bathroom to put some water in it.

“That’s easy,” I said when he came back. “I have to do it.”

“I don’t like that idea.”

“I don’t think we have a choice,” I said. “They know you. You can’t go in there.”

“Momus knows you too.”

“Well, I wasn’t talking about just walking in there,” I said with a little eye roll.

“I don’t think using your powers is a good idea right now.”

“We really don’t have a choice,” I said, shrugging. Even if, secretly, I had to agree with him. My powers were making me too weak. But for just this one last mission, I could make it work. “Iwill just get a lot of rest beforehand,” I added to try to ease his nerves. “Once the wine is drugged, I can get right back out.”

It was the only option.

I could see him grudgingly coming to the same conclusion.

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