Page 14 of Paramour of Sin

“So much for role playing,” I muttered, thrusting deep into his throat and giving him the pace I knew he wanted.

Hard.

Harsh.

Punishing.

Because he’d drawn me out of my head, which was the opposite of what I wanted. Yet we both knew it was exactly what Ineeded.

Want and need were often not the same, a fact I knew better than most.

“You’re about to drown,” I warned him, my orgasm mounting. “Seven years, Zane. Seven fucking years.”

His nostrils flared, the only indication he gave of being ready.

But he wasn’t. No one could prepare themselves for the fire inside me, the power dying to escape, the unadulterated burning ripping a hole through my fucking soul.

My grip turned to granite, forcing him to take it. To swallow. To accept everything I had to give him, even if it knocked him out.

I’d revive him.

Then I’d do it again.

And he’d thank me the entire damn time because he was a masochist who got off on the pain.

It was how we balanced one another. How he gave me just what I needed to stay sane. How he helped me keep my distance from Guinevere.

Then we bonded over the hardship because I wasn’t the only one who wanted a taste of the darling little succubus.

His throat worked, his nails digging into my hips as he fought to accept every drop from my throbbing dick. It started in my center, pushing outward with the force of a hurricane, and threatened to burn my estate to the ground.Literally.

I reined it in just barely, commanding control of the power ripping through my soul and demanding entry into the mortal realm. It hurt, the energy swirling inside me in protest and churning with each pump of my hips against Zane’s open mouth.

He sucked and swallowed and sucked some more, the sensation one that forced me into a second climax that sent waves of agonized pleasure throughout my being.

Fuck.

Seven years without his mouth was pure torture. Feeling him now… I realized I’d missed him, too. In my own way. Not just because of his skill and ability to make me come undone, but the camaraderie we’d established over the last century and his unerring ability to understand me without any verbal cues.

I released him as the final tremors of my pleasure subsided, his lips swollen by my abuse.

But his eyes smoldered with pleasure and pride.

He lost his pants in the next few seconds, standing and tilting his head to the side in a firm invitation for more. I fisted his prominent arousal, giving it a hearty stroke. “I need you to keep an eye on her for me, Zane.”

“Of course, my lord,” he agreed, his voice low and sensual and not at all disturbed by the punishing thrusts he’d just received down his throat.

This was why I enjoyed his kind—they adored sex, no matter how brutal or fierce.

Guinevere would be the same.

Fuck, she’d probably beg me to come a third time before returning to her feet. Or she would have merely spread her legs in a blatant invitation to fuck.

“You should invite her to play,” Zane murmured. “She won’t break.”

“I thought you said she’s too young?” I countered.

“She is young.” He grabbed my arm as I squeezed him near the base. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to play with her.”