Kresley Cole - Kiss of a Demon King

He pinched the other one until both peaks were plump and swollen. Then he grazed his flattened palms over them, up and down, his callused skin rasping her tender flesh.

He drew his head back. "Your eyes are turning blue." A timbre of pure masculine satisfaction marked his tone. "You like my touch, female."

I do. They were strangers, he knew nothing about her, but the way he stroked her was perfection.

Her breasts grew heavy under his ministrations, her sex damp. She'd waited so long for this. For him. She was so close to finally knowing what it would be like to have a man moving inside her. "More, demon."

He turned her so that her back was against his chest. Still fondling her breasts, he leaned in to run his face against hers, his breaths hot at her ear. When his big shaft prodded her, he ground it against her.

One of his hands trailed down her belly toward her sex. Her hips rocked up in invitation, but he teased his fingers at the line of her panties.

"Mmm. Touch me there, demon." She trembled with anticipation as his hand slowly inched inside her panties. Illusions of fire began to appear, but she extin-guished them .. . barely.

Finally his fingers smoothed through her small I triangle of curls. He hissed in a shocked breath to I find she was shaven everywhere below it. His voice I gravelly, he said, "So soft . . . will I find you wet, I sorceress?"

When he dipped into her slick folds, she moaned with pleasure. His body tensed against hers, and he muttered a harsh curse. "You're ready for me."

He spread her moisture to her swollen clitoris, then rubbed it with two fingers, circling again and again. There was no hesitation-he was deliberate, but agoniz­ingly slow.

"It wouldn't take much to make you come on my hand." As he fingered her flesh more aggressively, her eyes slid shut on a wordless cry. She was on the brink, scarcely noticing him raising the arm he held her with-

Until it was constricted around her neck in a choke-hold, cutting off her air.

She dug her nails into his arm. He didn't budge. Can't breathe . . . can't. . .

"I can play dirty, too." He let up his grip just enough for her to catch a gasping breath. "Scream for a guard."

"Don't need to ... one's here."

An illusion of a masked guard appeared from the shadows with his sword raised, swinging for the demon's neck. Rydstrom released her, shoving her away to defend himself.

Once clear, Sabine flipped her ring open, loosing her sleeping powder, then crept behind Rydstrom. As she let the illusion fade, she whispered, "Behind you."

When the demon twisted around, she blew the powder up into his eyes. "If you're going to act like an animal, then you'll be kept like one."

He gave her a blind look of pure hatred. "You little bitch!" Then he crashed to the floor.

G

ome see my new pet up close," Sabine told Lanthe when her sister returned from court, inviting her to pull up a chair as they watched her servants stripping

the demon.

Only Sabine's most trusted attendants were here, Sorceri slaves that were known as Inferi-literally "those who dwell below." She had dozens of males and females at her disposal.

"Quickly!" Sabine clapped at them. "Before he i rouses." Two removed his jacket while one built a fire in the cell's grate. Still another poured sweet wine for Sabine and Lanthe. Out of habit the sisters both sniffed for poison before drinking.

"Did you tell everyone at court?" Sabine asked.

"I did," Lanthe said. "Now, what happened here? And why is he still dressed?"

Sabine summarized the events, ending with, "After he tried to strangle me, I dosed htm."

"You're a mistress of deception, and he got the drop on you?"

"He's an exceedingly clever kisser," she said defen­sively.

"You don't seem too angry about this."

"He only did what I would have done in the same situation. If anything, I was impressed that he'd been so ruthless," she said, ignoring the measuring glance Lanthe cast her over the rim of her goblet. "This demon's a tricky one," Sabine continued. "I suspect that both his mind and desires are complicated."

"No way. I can almost hear him saying, Me big demon, me lusty!"

Sabine shook her head. "No, he's .. . different."

"Try to get into his mind. Tap into his fantasies."

"I tried. Typical demon had it blocked like a bar­ricade."

"Does he believe you're his female?" Lanthe asked.

"I think he feels that I am but is in denial. He won't be able to deny it much longer." Which was important. Already she was running out of time. As a Sorceri female, she would repeat her reproductive cycle only every two months. And she was nearing the end of her fertile time.

To her attendants, she called, "Yes, put him on the bed now."

Consisting of a mattress atop a titanium platform, the bed had manacles attached by chains embedded in the solid head and footboards.

"Be careful with his horns when you lift him," she said, recalling that demons could emit poison from the points

that could paralyze an immortal and kill a human. Once they'd situated him, she pointed to his feet.

As they yanked off his shoes, Lanthe said, "I still can't believe he wouldn't willingly do the deed."

Sabine took a healthy swallow of her sweet wine. "Made some mention of obligations, responsibilities."

"How could he expect you to believe he turned down sex with a nubile female who's all but begging for it for responsibilities? I've never heard of anything like that. Could it be you're losing your touch, old mum?"

"Suck off, fister. He just hasn't had enough entice­ment."

"You want me to give you some pointers?"

This was a tense subject between them. Once Sabine had realized that for centuries to come she'd never fully know a man, she'd assumed Lanthe would remain a vir­gin as well, in solidarity. When Sabine had mentioned that, Lanthe had laughed. Loud. More of a guffaw.

"I'm not without skills." Though Sabine was hymen-ally intact, she'd made up with everything but.

"Ah, yes, Sabine, the Queen of III"-Lanthe paused- "icit BJs."

They were illicit; every encounter of Sabine's was. She'd long envied couples who lazed in bed all day, but she'd always had to worry about Vrekeners overhead or Omort discovering her.

Once the Inferi stripped the demon's thin sweater from him, Lanthe whistled low. "Not an ounce of fat on him."

When Sabine crossed to the bed for a better look, Lanthe eagerly followed.

The demon seemed to be all latent strength, with rises and falls of long, strapping muscles. But he wasn't bulky-thankfully not a no-necked bruiser.

Above his corded bicep was a wide band of matte gold. The piece was permanent, and he'd likely been wearing it for centuries.

"Look at the tattoo." Sabine pointed to a spot low on his side where jet-black ink marked his flesh. "It con­tinues on." When she shifted him to peek at his back, she found an image of a dragon that appeared to wind around his torso.

Basilisks, ancient dragons, were reputed to live in the plane of Rothkalina in a region called Grave Realm. Demons held them sacred.

Tattoos were common among demon males, but she hadn't expected Rydstrom to have one. When Sabine grazed a finger along the image, the rigid muscles beneath it flexed to her fingers.

"Your gaze looks covetous, Abie."

"So?"

"So ... if you're his female, maybe you feel drawn to him as well. Maybe you could fall in love," she said, her big blue eyes wistful.

Lanthe was a contradiction-an evil sorceress who longed for love. Sabine had never known anyone so desperate for it as her sister. Ever since Lanthe was young, she'd seemed to be searching for it with her entire being. She read self-help books by the dozen and devoured tragic love stories on DVDs.