Rogue Soul (The Mythean Arcana 3) - Page 42

She’d had plenty of partners—she was two thousand years old, after all. But never one as big or powerful or commanding as the one towering over her and sliding the belt from his jeans.

She swallowed nervously and scooted back on the bed, unable to deny that fear spurred the heat racing through her brain. He wouldn’t hurt her.

But he looked like he could. And it made something flare inside of her.

“Lie down.” His voice was harsh, hot. Like he had a job to see to.

She did, unable to resist and not caring that she was a goddess who did whatever the hell she pleased. Apparently, whatever the hell she pleased was following this man’s brusque orders.

“Hands above your head.”

They shot above her head as if of their own volition. The cold metal bars of the spare headboard brushed her wrists, making her realize that she’d thrust her hands through the spaces between the bars.

The bed dipped under his weight when he kneeled by her hip. His scent—shampoo and the heady deliciousness of his arousal—enthralled her as he leaned over her, chest hovering above her face. His heat and size surrounded her, made her feel smaller than she ever had.

Something—his fingertips, probably—brushed gently against the scars on the insides of her wrists. His face was so close to them. Seeing them.

“Don’t,” she whispered. They were the physical evidence of all that had gone wrong between them. Of her mistakes.

He stopped, silent, and then the bite of warm leather wrapping around her wrists made her gasp. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer, just continued to wrap the leather until he could buckle it. Relief over the distraction from her scars fought her nerves over being bound. She yanked, grew cold and hot at once when she felt no give. He edged down the mattress until his breath was at her ear. “So you can’t touch. Lay a finger on me and I’d lose my mind. And this isn’t about me.”

Liar. Cam looked down at Ana. His goal might be her pleasure, not his own, so that she’d quit sending fuck me vibes at him. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t getting something he wanted. The sight of her, bound to the bed and wide eyed with excitement and nerves, made his heart pound so hard he felt like it would pulverize his ribs.

The belt wasn’t to keep her tied down. She could break free if she wanted. She was a goddess, after all, with inhuman strength.

No, the belt reminded him that he was in control. Responsible. It would keep him in check. He couldn’t lose himself if she was bound. Couldn’t let his mind go foggy with want until he yanked off her clothes and sank his painfully hard cock into the heat of her pussy. Couldn’t take the things he shouldn’t have if he wanted to walk away from this tomorrow.

He licked his lower lip. Bit it. Studied her. Then had to squeeze his eyes closed to get it together. After a long moment, he opened them and looked down at her.

“You want this?” His voice was gravel leaving his throat.

She hesitated, so slight he might not have noticed. Then nodded.

“Say it.” He wanted to hear it on her lips.

“I want it.”

He wanted to peel off all her clothes, trace every inch of her skin with his eyes and hands and mouth. To hear all the noises she made when he did something she liked. He was desperate to make her feel him. Desperate to make her want him. To be the best she’d ever have, even if they could never have this again. Especially if they could never have this again.

He thrust the tender thoughts away and focused on what this was supposed to be about. Not seduction. Not connection. It was about getting her off. Keeping his mind and his wants and his heart out of this.

He reached down to drag her shorts and underwear from her hips, knowing that the sight of her curls and the pink flesh between her thighs would put his mind where it needed to be.

“Beautiful,” he rasped, then leaned down over her so that his face hovered above hers and his hand brushed against what he most desired.

He cupped her pussy, something inside him jerking at the inappropriate possessiveness that bolted through him. Her hips lurched and she cried out, wide eyes meeting his.

Though he wanted to kiss her, he didn’t. He didn’t want to make this more than it was, while something dark within him wanted it to be as raw as possible.

Subtle changes flashed in her eyes as his fingers parted her softness and dipped into the wetness that scented the air. He thrummed her clitoris, grinned when she gasped, and pushed a finger inside her, desperate to know all of her.

With a start, he realized that his hand trembled. He hoped she didn’t notice. “I am going to make you come so hard that you forget your own name.”

She whimpered, but held his gaze.

“But you won’t forget my name,” he said. “You’ll scream it when you come.”

Tags: Linsey Hall The Mythean Arcana Paranormal
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