Page 84 of Claimed
I trace her heat with my fingers, stroking idly along the soft folds of her body. Her mewls are sexy against my lips. I press my fingertip into her channel and still.
She ripples even from such a light invasion. As sated as she is, she should be calm. But her body is tight, hungry for mine. Her hips rock, riding my hand as she seeks her peak.
Onyx knows exactly what she likes, the pressure she needs. The kind of touch. She knows how to pleasure herself and find pleasure in another. And that is a rare beauty indeed.
Slipping another digit into her, I pump, taking her rhythm and stretching her for my body. Her nails dig into my arms, her head back. Another series of ripples tightens her around my touch.
“Onyx,” I warn.
She huffs. “Then hurry the hell up.”
“Didn’t I tell you not to rush—”
She raises up on her elbows, pressing her lips to mine in a demanding taste. When she pulls back, she isn’t the only one breathing hard. “I’m going to come, Caine. So either join me, or let it happen.”
Chuckling, I pull my fingers from her body. “Yes, ma’am,” I drawl.
I shove her back, grab her thighs and lift. My hips piston forward and I penetrate her sheath in one silken, hot glide as she cries out.
I stop.
Warmth suffuses my insides, not scalding or demanding. But softer. My demon magick curls from my skin to cradle her as I would. To hold her.
My eyes widen at the soft crimson light as it strokes her skin without my command. As it gives her pleasure instead of taking it.
When I don’t move, her eyes track to my face, something like concern dancing over her features. But I can’t move. I can’t do anything but stare as she is bathed in a power that was never meant to be kind. Tender.
She leans up, her thin stomach bunching. “Caine?”
My eyes dart to hers. The amber hue is threaded in a faint sheen of red. So soft that the color is almost invisible. And yet, I can see it. A color that I somehow missed when I took her before. And that the blindfold covered before I removed it.
Somewhere far back in her bloodline is something not so pure. Something made of russet skin and dark hair. Something that thrives under the red light of the Abyss.
She has Asmodean blood.
And she is my Armandour.
Chapter 31
Onyx
Caine remains rigid, his hard length pulsing inside of me. That alone should make me climax, but the hint of fear in his face has dampened the need.
“Caine?”
He fixes his attention on me and the fear morphs to something like wonder. My heart skips. He bends and grips my face, his kiss so soft, so unsure. I shiver as he scrubs his lips back and forth over mine.
Some mix of words spills from his lips, their syllables guttural yet not. Each one seems to quicken my blood until I am burning from the inside out.
I wrap my arms around his neck. He slips a hand under my spine, holding me to him. He squeezes. Then his hips begin to move.
My eyes flutter closed as his body glides in a tangible wave inside me. It’s like an undulation, a dance of his flesh with mine. Every stroke out rubs along my pelvic floor and every press into me is like silk against the spot at top. He rubs it all in a steady rhythm, and pleasure zaps into me like electricity.
The heaviness builds between my thighs, the warmth. It moves into my stomach. My hands tingle, my breasts are too heavy. Too full of need. He whispers into my ear as he fills me, the archaic language beautiful in the rasping timbre of his voice.
I cling to him, wrapping my legs around his hips as Caine suffuses my world. His touch, his body in mine. His voice. His scent.
I revel in the spicy fragrance of his skin and nuzzle his throat. The dark wings of his tattoo. His voice grows fervent in my ear, reverent. I kiss his neck and run my hands over his back, his shoulders. God. His arms.
