Eternal Rider - Larissa Ione [127]
“I know.” He carried her to the bed, where slowly, reverently, he stripped her of the scrubs the demons had given her to wear home, and then she watched as he peeled out of his own clothes. He started to lower himself onto the bed, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Just let me look at you for a second.”
His mouth opened and closed, a pink blush rising up on his cheeks. With a nod, he stood up, his full, impressive height towering over her. Her mouth watered… literally watered, as she took him in. His muscles, so magnificently sculpted, were too perfect to be believed, and as she reached out to slide her palms over his pecs, she knew that even if they’d had centuries together, she’d never have tired of touching them.
With a soft moan of appreciation, she dragged her hand down to his abs, smiling at the roll of his eight-pack as they flexed under her caress. His cock, which had been flaccid only a moment ago, begin to swell, but she didn’t go any lower. Not yet.
“Turn around,” she whispered, surprising herself with the husky inflection in her voice.
“Cara, you should be lying down—”
“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t treat me like I’m an invalid.” She wanted him to remember her with strength, not as some helpless, frail sickling who was just waiting to die after he serviced her one last time. She would give as good as she got. “Don’t hold anything back from me. Promise.”
His throat convulsed, the tendons in his neck straining. “Yeah. Yeah, I promise.” In a graceful flow of motion, he turned around, and her brain short-circuited.
Nice. Ass. Amused at how her fingers flexed involuntarily, she went up on her knees and eased the length of her body against him, planting her hands on his broad shoulders so she could caress at her leisure. The sound of his breath heaving out of his lungs blended with the distant crash of the waves, and she wished they could be out in those tidal surges, letting the water cool them as their bodies made heat.
So much time wasted, she thought, as she opened her mouth against the back of his neck. His skin tasted like salt and man, smelled like leather and spice. He groaned when she nipped him near a puckered scar and then soothed the spot with a lap of her tongue.
“Why the scars?” she asked, as she trailed her finger over a thin line. “Don’t you heal completely?”
“They’re from injuries before my curse.”
She kissed one. Then another. “Touch yourself,” she murmured against his skin, and he groaned again, his head falling back as the flex of muscles in his right biceps told her he’d obeyed. She pictured his big hand around his shaft, wondered if he liked to take long, slow strokes, or shorter ones that concentrated near the head. Well, she’d find out in a minute. First, she had some touching of her own to do.
Her heart raced, thudding so hard in her chest that she suspected Ares could feel it on his spine. Heat radiated from him, scorching her skin and making her burn all the way to her core. She smoothed her hands down his arms, loving the contraction of his muscles as he stroked his erection. The bed creaked as she scooted back a couple of inches so she could slide her hands down his back, and again, the roll of his firm flesh as he worked himself was a thing of beauty.
When her palms cupped his buttocks, he let out an erotic growl that sent a rush of liquid heat between her legs.
“You’re ready for me.” His voice was guttural, sexy, and she grew even wetter.
She licked between his shoulder blades. “How do you know?”
“My mother was a sex demon. I’m attuned to desire.”
Why had he not mentioned the desire thing before? How many sensual tricks did he have up his sleeve from that kind of inheritance? Oh, her imagination could go wild.
She shifted, letting her tongue trail down Ares’s spine, all the while enjoying