Night of the Tiger (Hades' Carnival) by N.J. Walters

until she established the rhythm he liked. More liquid seeped from the tip of his penis, and Aimee was suddenly filled with the overwhelming need to know what he tasted like. Scooting down, she tentatively licked at the slit with the tip of her tongue. He was hot and musky and slightly salty. She loved it.
    His lips parted, and he emitted a low moan as his hips bowed off the bed. She could feel his shaft rippling beneath her fingers. His pleasure filled an empty spot inside her, infusing her with contentment.
    She lapped at the head of his cock again, swirling her tongue around it before sucking it into her mouth. A guttural growl came from deep in his chest. Aimee released him with a wet, popping sound and blew on the damp, sensitive flesh. Her fingers skated over his shaft, squeezing and shaping his thick length.
    “Enough.” In one fluid motion, he removed her hand from his body and flipped her onto her back. She blinked and found herself staring up at him. He supported himself on his hands and knees as he knelt above her, the planes of his face harsh and unforgiving. She should have been afraid. Instead, a sense of anticipation thrummed through her.
    She slid her hands up his massive forearms and biceps, pausing briefly to massage his thick shoulders before linking her fingers behind his neck. “Why? I was having fun.”
    Her question seemed to take him off-guard. He frowned and then one corner of his mouth quirked upward. The effect was devastating to her senses. He went from harsh to ruggedly handsome in a split second. She held her breath and prayed that he’d gift her with a real smile.
    He shook his head and his mouth returned to its firm line, but his eyes twinkled with humor. “Most do not question me.”
    “Why not?” Aimee was totally relaxed as she fingered his thick, touchable hair. After all, this was her dream and she was in charge.
    He shook his head again as if uncertain how to answer her question. Instead, he lowered his mouth toward hers. Aimee held her breath as his lips skimmed hers. The touch was so brief she wasn’t sure it had actually happened. Her breasts tingled and her sex pulsed, vividly reminding her of the growing ache between her thighs.
    For a man so hard, his lips were incredibly smooth and supple. She arched into the kiss, wanting—no, needing—deeper contact. He skimmed his tongue over her bottom lip before catching it between his teeth and nipping lightly. Aimee shivered, a combination of fear and desire.
    This man was strong, elemental and totally unstoppable.
    As if he sensed her unease, he pulled back and stared down at her. It took her a second to realize he was waiting. Waiting for her to decide what happened next. In unspoken words, he was letting her know she was in charge. Nothing would happen that she didn’t want.
    Her doubts melted away, replaced by a flood of desire so thick she had to gasp for breath. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she dragged his mouth back to hers. As if that was the signal he was waiting for, he let loose.
    A low growl vibrated throughout his body as he swooped down and captured her mouth with his. There was no tentative touching this time. No gentle caress. This was a claiming, pure and simple.
    His tongue swept inward, raking over her teeth, her tongue and the walls of her mouth. Heat swamped her body as she clung to his shoulders and returned his kiss measure for measure.
    He tilted his head, deepening the contact. Aimee couldn’t breathe, but that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was he was touching her, tasting her, consuming her.
    Her legs parted and he filled the space, his erection cradled against her mound. The shock of his hard, naked flesh against hers was overwhelming and absolutely delicious. Planting her feet on the mattress, she pushed upward, deepening the contact. Her clit brushed against his swollen length, sending bolts of pleasure rocketing throughout her. She was wet and her juices coated his shaft, making