Page 82 of Claimed
I have seconds to process his words before he flips me over onto my back and buries his face in my heat again.
Chapter 30
Caine
Onyx’s cries are like music, the sound rasping and so husky to my starved ears. But the one sound she needs to make, she refrains from.
My name.
She uses it when she begs for me to finish her. To give her what she thinks she needs. But never as her climax takes her.
So I feast at her body until she can only tremble from her releases. Her nectar is the sweetest I have ever tasted. Fresh and like juice on my tongue. I lick and suck her pretty, swollen folds as she quiets again.
Allowing her a moment to breathe, I massage her supple thighs, her full hips. The delicate arches of her feet. Every touch elicits a low moan. My cock strains to fill her, the tip dripping with the need she has caused. The demon she has stirred.
But I will not take my fill until I fill her. Until I bottom out in her silken channel.
I knead her arms, the palms of her hands. Her shoulders. She sags into each press of my fingertips. I know there is no tension in her body. No pain. She is sated and tired. But there is an edge to her that I can still taste.
A worry.
I mean to wash it away until there is only me.
When it happened, I don’t know. This insatiable desire to mark her as mine. To have her craving me as much as I crave her.
Will the need remain after I have tasted all the carnal joys she can offer?
That is my fear. That even after I have given her every touch I was trained to give, that she will walk away. Like she tried to do earlier.
This vibrant, silken creature trusts me without fail. She has allowed me to push her to an edge of bliss that she has never experienced. I could taste her fear earlier. The fine line blurring as she took me into her mouth. That devilish mouth.
My cock jumps, throbbing desperately.
I lean down and kiss her forehead above the blindfold. Her soft cheeks. Her smooth throat. She winds her arms around my neck and I nuzzle her ear. “Are you tired, angel?” I croon.
The name fits her.
It is not one I have ever bestowed upon a bedmate. But there is an innocence to her, an angelic trust that speaks volumes to her resilience.
Even bound to another demon she is kind. Compassionate. She worries for others.
Worries over me.
Her sigh is soft. “I’m … calm,” she murmurs.
My lips curve and I kiss the shell of her ear. Here her scent is stronger, warmer. As it is at her apex. “Are you?”
“Everything is kind of floaty. Soft.” Her hands slide down my arms, caressing my skin. I can feel her core as it clenches, even without touching her. I am so in tune with her desire. Her body. I marvel at the connection.
All that I have bedded have found pleasure in my arms. In my body. But only for what I can do for them. What I can give them.
Onyx finds pleasure in something as simple as touching my skin. And that too is a marvel. How happy it seems to make her.
“Would you like to sleep?” I ask.
Her hands flow over my chest and it takes all my concentration to keep her from feeling my scars. “I want to see you, Caine. I want to watch you take me.”
Those words are part command, part request. And all Onyx.
