Page 67 of Hell Kissed
Chapter Twenty-One
Ten Pack Abs
Torben
Rhys’s hands plaster themselves against my abdomen as she clings to me. Her fingers are so small and lithe, I take a moment to marvel at how tiny she truly is. My own hands dwarf hers thanks to the giant blood running through my veins.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think Rhys was fragile, but she’s feisty and independent. When I was sent to retrieve her and bring her back to Hell, I didn’t think she’d be so fucking strong. I expected a dainty flower, and while she looks the part, she doesn’t act it.
Aric’s leathery wings whip through the air, blowing Rhys’s pale blonde hair around us. The strands caress my shoulder as the dragon lifts us off the ground with a single powerful pump. I’m surprised Aric has the strength to fly at all with what little sleep the four of us got. The darkness of nightfall only lasted about an hour.
Then the sky bled red once more.
And so our fucking journey continues.
“Holy fuck,” she gasps from over my shoulder in the airy way she moaned for Latham and Aric as they pleasured her.
I stifle a groan and shift in my seat, hoping like hell Aric’s dragon scales are thick enough that he can’t tell how that simple little sound makes my dick hard.
My balls have been aching since I watched Rhys come from the shadows. The sight of her flushed skin and the way she parted her swollen, berry red lips is a vision I won’t soon forget.
I hold it close and lock it away, knowing I’ll need it when we get back to Hell.
The thought is a bucket of ice water against my libido. The tether of my duty is a noose around my neck, tightening each minute I spend in Rhys’s presence.
I should throw the image of her writhing body straight into the fiery pits of Hell, because Rhys isn’t my salvation. The small taste I’ve allowed myself to have of her was nothing but a thousand lashes of torment against my soul.
She’ll never be mine, and I’ll never be free enough to be hers.
Not that she wants me anyway. Not that I want her.
So I’ll stick with the fucking plan.
I’ll stay away from her. I’ll deliver her to Hela and reunite her with her mother.
And then I’ll forget her.
Rhys’s hands creep up my stomach, and then her fingers run along the dips and curves of my abs as she trails them back down.
My eyes squeeze closed, and I swallow as she tortures me beautifully.
Down. Down. Down.
A growl rumbles in my chest in a deep warning she doesn’t heed. I cover both of her hands in one of mine before her fingers can brush along the hard, straining length of my cock.
My lashes open to the fiery sky, my gaze falling on Latham’s figure as he stands between the two white horns on the dragon’s head, his dark hair ruffles in the wind.
He’s always so free when he’s away from our homeland.
While I can’t ever seem to mentally escape.
I try to keep that impenetrable reminder of who I am and where I belong at the front of my mind as her fingers slide deliciously against my body all over again. My nerves tingle until my flesh feels like it’s humming for her.
A confusing comfort sets in. Her touch isn’t a crawling sensation beneath my skin. She’s the first person in centuries who actually feels good. I find myself wanting to hold her more and more. Just wrap myself up in her and let her scent soak into me.
I don’t know if anyone’s ever made me feel like this.
But I have to keep my distance.
