Demons Undone: The Sons of Gulielmus Series by Holley Trent Page B

just felt him. Solid and warm and
present
.
    He didn’t have his hands darting from here to there all over her. He just sat there, watching her. Letting her connect. Waiting for a cue, probably.
    She gave him one. She leaned in close and teased her lips over his.
    “You smell wonderful,” he whispered.
    “You like that?”
    “It’s nice. Kinda fruity. I like it a lot more than the floral stuff everyone back home uses. I think every woman at the compound uses the same bottle. Must get it in bulk size.”
    “That doesn’t sound stimulating.” She dragged her tongue across the crease between his lips.
    “It’s not. Think about it. Every girl smelling like your mother?” He reciprocated, touching the tip of her tongue with his, then slowly, carefully claiming more real estate in her mouth.
    His hands grazed the skin of her waist beneath her shirt, slowly gliding up until they met her breasts.
    Her body tensed in anticipation, but he kept her lingering there on the edge. It was like he’d put a key in an ignition, but hadn’t turned it yet. She began to feel a bit dizzy between the work of his talented tongue and her mounting arousal. Where did all the blood in her head go?
    He drew back and fisted her shirt’s bottom in his hands. “The women there. They all start to blur together over time. Look the same.”
    She lifted her arms as he eased the shirt over her head.
    “Smell the same.” He tossed it on the floor toward his own discarded shirt and pressed his nose into the crook of her neck. He took a deep inhale as his hands found her breasts and cupped them.
    “Act the same.”
    When his thumbs flicked at her nipples this time, she reared up onto her knees and sank her fingers into his muscular back.
    “They don’t think for themselves.” He dipped his head and pulled one aching nipple between his teeth.
    Right at that moment, she felt like she wasn’t very good at thinking
herself
. She shuddered and arched her body toward him.
    “I think you’re putting me on a pedestal I don’t belong on,” she said as his teeth grazed her other nipple.
    Strong arms wrapped around her and gently lowered her to the bed. He kissed down her neck, visited her breasts with his tongue for a while, then dragged his tongue lower, lower, and stopped at the elastic of her shorts. He hooked his fingers in and eased them down in one swoop along with her panties, which weren’t anything special to start with. If she’d known she’d be entertaining company, she would have packed a few pairs of underwear that hadn’t come out of a five-for-eight-dollars pack.
    His tongue was back, now laving her most erogenous spot with a skill a virgin shouldn’t have had. Or perhaps virgins were more thorough when it came to things that weren’t quite sex?
    She didn’t have any plans to research that.
    “You belong on a pedestal, Ariel. The tallest one they make.”
    She panted as he spread her further and dipped his fingers into her eager sex. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Hitch.”
    He paused, and rolled those sea blue eyes up to hers. “My name is John. John Marshall Tate. Can you remember that?”
    Remember it? Why wouldn’t she? She let her face show her confusion.
    “Because that’s the name I want to hear you calling out. Got that, Ariel?”
    Oh.

Chapter Eight
    He wanted to take it back. Every single bit of it. The part where she’d ripped open a glow-in-the-dark condom and rolled it onto his aching erection. The part where he’d wrapped her legs around his waist and bent in low to kiss her.
    The part where he’d breached her tight sex and eased in so deliriously slow.
    He wanted to take it all back and do it again, because he was almost done.
    It didn’t take Ariel much. She’d already called out his name
twice
, and his full name once, each time clamping harder around him and making him grunt like a raging bull. He tried to hold on because it felt so good, and her being pressed beneath him, holding him so tight