Eternal Rider - Larissa Ione [75]
“Fucked you.”
Oh. Her cheeks heated, and she blinked up at him. “I’ve never been fucked, as you so delicately put it.” She was still breathless, and though his crude words should have turned her off, they only added to the struggle to take in enough air. “I’ve made love. And it’s been over two years.”
“You made love.” His fingers still feathered over the pad of her sex as one eyebrow cocked up in amusement, and the mellow postorgasm bliss veered sharply to irritation.
“There’s no need to make fun of me, just because I’m not like you.” She inhaled a couple of times, in desperate need of oxygen.
The lovely play of his fingers stilled. “Like me?”
“You aren’t human. Your mother is a… sex demon.” She tripped over that a little, because seriously, that was one of those things you never thought you’d say. “And violence and killing excite you.” She tripped over that, too, but for a different reason. And what about when you kill? Do you get off on it? She was like Ares. A tremor of revulsion would have knocked her off balance if not for Ares’s hold.
A frosty glower replaced the amusement in his eyes. “I apologize for subjecting your pure, nonviolent self to my repulsive lusts. Thank you for bringing me to my senses.”
Cara jerked, lanced by shock—not by what he said, but by the reason he’d said it. She’d hurt him. For some reason, the idea that he could be hurt had never occurred to her. He was… War. Sure, she’d seen a vulnerability in him after Chaos had left, and when Battle was injured, but this was different.
Angry at herself for not seeing beyond his armor, she reached up and cupped his cheek. “I didn’t mean to judge—”
“Yes,” he growled, as he reared away from her touch, “you did. Let me guess, you’re all missionary, all the time. Sweet and angelic. Human.” He practically spat that last word. “But me? I’m a demon with no morals.”
“I didn’t say that. And I’m not all missionary,” she muttered, even though she sort of was. But only because her two lovers hadn’t been all that adventurous.
“No?”
“No.”
Wrong thing to say, because a wicked glint of I’ll-prove-you-wrong competitiveness sparked in his eye, and he put his mouth to her ear, his lips a whisper on her skin, just like his voice. “Have you ever done it on your hands and knees, mounted from behind? How about in the shower, against the wall, being driven into while you slide up and down the tile?” His teeth caught her earlobe, and she arched against him with a moan. “Or sitting on the bench, while he goes to his knees and licks you between the legs? Maybe you on top, sucking cock while he tongues you? Ever use honey, Cara? Hot wax? A riding crop?”
The erotic images jumbled in her head, leaving her breathless, dizzy, and speechless.
“Didn’t think so.” Ares shut off the water and grabbed a towel off the heated rack. Before she could protest, he’d wrapped it around her and was leading her to the bedroom.
She stopped him just short of the bed. “Wait. I don’t understand. Why did you ask me all those things if you weren’t going to… you know.”
“Fuck you?” His laughter rumbled deep and harsh in his chest, which she just noticed was smooth, hairless—utterly lickable. “Is that what you really want?”
Yes. “Of course not.” Really, no. This thing between them had already gone too far, and she had enough problems as it was. The last thing she needed right now was to get involved with anyone, let alone an immortal half-demon whose brother wanted her dead.
“Of course not,” he repeated, bitterness dripping from his words. “Doesn’t matter. You’re not strong enough to handle what I have to offer anyway.”
Again, the talk of her weakness. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
“But I know what I’m capable of.” He peeled back the sheets and nudged her toward the bed. “You were right, Cara. I’m a demon. All I’ve known my entire life is fighting. Battle, sex, it’s all the same to me. I fuck like I fight, until the other person is begging for mercy. Trust me, you don’t want to be part of it. I was wrong to think