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I’ve never done this before. Not with any of the men I’ve been with. Not that they hadn’t tried; I just hadn’t wanted it then.

I want it now. Oh, how I want it now.

I let out a wanton moan at the sensation of having Des in me twice over.

His finger continues to press in, and I get exactly why Des rules over sex and the night and all that taboo shit that comes with it. Because this issowrong, but it—feels—amazing.

More, more,more.

“Tell me, siren, are you disappointed now?”

“God, no,” I gasp out.

“There’s that word again.” His finger presses in deeper.

Is that touch supposed to be punishing? It’s not. Another husky moan slips out of me as my body thrums with pleasure.

“Perhaps you’d better find a synonym,” he says.

Des’s magic winds around my windpipe, and I’m prisoner to it.

“Des—” I give a strangled cry.

“Much better,” he says, the devil in his voice.

All this stimulation, all this sensation of being pressed and prodded and filled to the brim, it’s nearly too much.

And still I hold out. The sensation is too intense, too exquisite, too enticing, and I can’t bear the thought of it ending.

So I hide from my release.

I don’t know how long the two of us stay locked in our strange, taboo love-making. Only that at some point, Des’s white hair brushes against the skin of my shoulder and his lips are in my ear.

“Am I not servicing my queen well enough?”

My siren merely purrs.

He shifts against me, and I shamelessly gasp at the exquisite feel of him.

“Surely you should’ve come by now—or am I losing my … touch?” He tweaks his finger, and I let out a choked cry, nearly climaxing then and there. “But perhaps you need a little more persuading.”

Never want this to end.

He breathes against my cheek. “Come for me, siren.”

I can feel magic and darkness in those words. They settle into me and through my haze of pleasure I register that this is all going to come to a swift end.

I manage to squeeze one final order out. “Give me …everything.”

He does. Des drives into me as I shatter, his flesh pounding against mine harder and harder and deeper and deeper. The pleasure is so extreme, so acute, I can barely hold onto it. It washes over me, blinding, unnatural, addicting.

His body was meant for this—screwing and claiming and twisting my will into his own. Just as mine was meant to allure him and seduce him, and ultimately bend his desires to fit my own.

With a groan, he comes, his hips slamming into mine as he fills me up. Each stroke of Des’s hips sends another wave of pleasure through me.

We come down slowly, our bodies sweaty and dusty.

Des collapses next to me before dragging me onto his chest. He holds me captive in his arms, stroking my flesh softly, his lips trailing over my shoulder. He playfully bites the skin there. “Stay in my arms, cherub. Stay here and never leave.”