Lords of the Underworld Bundle (25 page)

He's not really a stranger anymore. He's held you and slept beside you, cared for you and cleaned you.
All of that was true, but she didn't know the little things about him. His likes and dislikes or his relationship history, which must be pretty extensive, old as he was. She didn't know if he simply wanted today with her, or something more.

So many times, in dozens of languages, she'd heard men tell a woman what she wanted to hear, then abandon her later. She'd heard them cheat, unconcerned about the partner waiting for them at home. She'd heard pretty lies and even blatant force.

How would Maddox, a self-professed demon, treat her body? How would he treat her once the loving was done?

As scary as the prospect of being with him was, however, she had to admit it was also exciting. Thrilling. There was intent desire in Maddox's eyes, a violet fire as fierce as it was hot.

No one had ever looked at her like that.

She was the weird girl, the freak. The crazy girl who couldn't have a normal conversation because she was too busy listening to other people talk.
Take a chance, Darrow. Dare to live for once. You know you want to.

She gazed up at Maddox. Steam swirled around him, giving him a dreamlike, ghostly aura. His face was ruthless but sexy, his hair cut in choppy black ribbons that fell to his chin. She'd always wanted to have a man, a relationship. She'd always been curious about the passion she'd heard so much about. But she'd also always wanted a man who would love her, who wouldn't leave her when the passion-fire burned out.

“How do you feel, Ashlyn?” he repeated.

Every nerve ending in her body reached for him, pleading for attention. “Fine,” she finally admitted. “I feel fine. I didn't lie.”

“Then why are you standing there? Strip.”

“Do
not
order me.” If she allowed him to walk on her now, he would always walk on her.
Always? How long are you staying?

He was silent for a moment. “Please.”

Are you really going to do this?

Yes. She was. He didn't love her, and she wasn't sure how he'd treat her afterward, but she was going to do it. She wanted him and had from the first.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the zipper of her pink jacket. But she found that she wasn't wearing the jacket anymore. Or her sweater. He must have removed them while she slept. Cheeks heating, she curled her fingers around the hem of her plain T-shirt. She lifted the material over her head and tossed it aside, leaving her in a white tank, bra and jeans.

Maddox nodded his approval. “So many layers. Remove more. Please.”

She rested her hands on the bottom of the tank. Paused. “I'm nervous,” she confessed.

One of his black eyebrows arched as his head tilted to the side. “Why?”

“What if—what if you don't like what you see?”

“I'll like,” he said huskily.

That primitive tone…She shivered. It had scared her in the forest. Now it fanned the flames of her desire. “How can you be sure?”

His gaze raked over her in a heated perusal. “I like what I see right now. What's underneath will be even better.”

Ashlyn wasn't so sure about that. She didn't work out; she didn't diet. There had never really been a need. When she wasn't traveling with the Institute, she was content to stay home, watching TV, reading magazines and playing on the Internet. Not the things that gave a woman the type of body men talked about wanting.

Her thighs were a little wider than most said they liked, her stomach a little rounder. What kind of woman was Maddox used to? He was immortal, after all, and had probably been with thousands of beautiful females.

Her hands fisted. Irrational though it was, the thought of him with someone else really pissed her off.

“Ashlyn,” Maddox said, snapping her from her musings.

“What?”

“Mind on the task at hand,” he said dryly.

Her lips inched into a smile. “Sorry. I got distracted.” She'd have to learn to control her own thoughts, now that silence was a part of her life.

“Let me help you. Please.”

Every time he uttered the word
please
she melted, wanting to give him all that he desired and more. She nodded.

His hands closed over hers, and there was that thrilling shock that always followed his touch. She'd expected it this time, but was still unprepared for its ripple effect. Pearled nipples, a warm rush between her legs.

He didn't wait for permission but gripped the tank and lifted.

“Wait,” she said.

Instantly, he ceased moving.

“I need to prepare you.” He was about to see her underwear—another embarrassing topic. They were plain white cotton.
Granny gear,
she'd once heard a man say. She never wore sexy clothing, even underclothing, while on the job. It just wasn't practical. “I do own sexy underwear, I promise, but I'm not wearing it right now.”

“That is supposed to disgust me?” Maddox asked, sounding genuinely confused. “That you aren't wearing sexy underwear?”

“I don't know.” She chewed on her lower lip. “Maybe. Does it?”

“Ashlyn, whatever you're wearing will not matter to me. You will not be wearing it for long. Ready now?” he asked.

Swallowing, she nodded.

He tugged the tank over her head and tossed it on the floor beside her T-shirt. She shivered. “W-well?”

“Well?”

“Ugly?” she asked.

“Lovely,” Maddox replied. He sucked in a—reverent?—breath and her blood caught fire. He reached out with a shaky hand and traced the plain cotton that shielded her nipples. Though already hard, they strained toward him.

Ashlyn moaned at the decadence.

He trailed his fingers down her stomach and gripped the waist of her jeans. A twist of his wrist, and they were unsnapped. She could feel the heat of his skin all the way to her bones.

He slid the jeans over her hips, past her knees and to the floor. “Step out of them.”

Legs shaky, she did as commanded. His gaze locked on her white cotton panties. She fought the urge to cover them, wishing again that he could see her in something sexy. “I know men like to role-play,” she told him, nervously trying to fill the silence. How many times had she heard them brag about it to their friends? “At home I have a cop outfit, a harem girl costume and a Playboy Bunny teddy.” Not that she'd ever gotten to use them. But she loved owning them, just in case.

“That's nice.” Maddox sounded unimpressed.

“Maybe I can, I don't know, show you sometime.”

“Take the bra and panties off.” His expression was disappointingly blank as he straightened.

Maybe he
didn't
care what she wore.

As he waited for her to obey, he reached behind him and jerked his T-shirt over his head. She gasped in surprise, in delight, and forgot about how ugly her panties were—but she still didn't remove them. Or the bra. She was too busy staring.

Maddox was absolutely magnificent. The scabs had already disappeared, leaving only faint red lines. Rope after rope of bronzed muscle offered a feast for her eyes. He had an innie bellybutton and a faint dusting of black hair that led straight into the waist of his pants.

Never taking his eyes from her face, he unfastened his pants and shoved them down the long, solid length of his legs until they, too, pooled on the floor.

He wasn't wearing any underwear.

Her eyes widened and her mouth dried. He was huge. Long and thick and sublimely aroused. She'd seen the male penis in books, on Web sites she shouldn't have visited and movies she shouldn't have watched, but never in person. Never like this. His testicles were drawn up tight and surrounded by coarse dark hair.

“I believe I gave you a specific task,” he said, his pointed gaze between her legs making her quake deliciously.

Need flooded her, more intense than ever before. The need to touch and be touched, to taste and be tasted, consumed her. A sharp ache pounded through her. “Are we really going to have sex?” she asked breathlessly, hopefully.

“Oh, yes,” he replied, stalking toward her. “Oh, yes, beauty, we really are.”

M
ADDOX GRIPPED
A
SHLYN
under her arms and lifted her off the floor. He tore the center of her bra apart with his teeth. The buttery material ripped easily and fell open, revealing the sexiest pair of breasts he'd ever seen.

They were a little fuller than a handful, with rosy-tipped nipples begging to be sampled. He couldn't hold back a moment longer. Everything inside him cracked, needing contact. Beyond desperate.

He sucked one hard bud into his mouth, surrounding it with hot, wet intensity. Ashlyn moaned. She threw back her head and arched toward him, a plea for more. He let his tongue dabble, flicking back and forth, then sampled the other one, giving it the same treatment.

His blood burned for more, but he set her back on her feet and pushed her toward the sink. Soon. Without a word, he handed her the toothbrush he'd acquired for her earlier and claimed his own. He wanted to be perfect for her.

She appeared dazed, wobbly, as she stared at it in confusion. Slowly her cheeks pinkened in embarrassment. Why? They brushed their teeth and used the mouthwash in silence. Afterward, Ashlyn stood in front of the mirror, gripping the sink as if she didn't know what to do next and was afraid to ask.

“Off,” he said, pinching the top of her panties. “Please.”

She appeared nervous as she slid them over her hips and stepped out of them.

Gods. He nearly crumpled to the floor in a blubbering, thankful heap. A small triangle of honey-colored hair, deliciously rounded thighs. Nostrils flaring at the beauty of her, he once again picked her up. This time, however, he placed her inside the tub and pulled the curtain around them. She gasped when the water hit her, and then she groaned in ecstasy as the heat pounded gently at her skin. He wished he had caused that groan.

Soon, he promised himself again. Soon.

He stepped in behind her. She was already soaked, hair plastered to the elegant slope of her back. Her bottom was perfectly curved, full enough to overflow in his hands. He liked that, liked that she wasn't skin and bones.

“So lovely,” he said, but doubt suddenly filled him. Should he turn her around, or hold her like this? Should he lay her down or let her stand? His first shower with a woman, and he wasn't exactly sure of the best way to go about it.

Mine. Do…everything.

As instinct and thousands of years of fantasies took over, he closed all hint of distance between them and rubbed his erection in the crevice of her ass. She gave a shuddering gasp. He reached around her and grabbed the pine-scented bar of soap he used every morning to wash away the lingering effects of his midnight trials.

She tried to turn around, to face him, but he locked her in place by resting his chin on top of her head. At first she stiffened. Gradually, though, she relaxed against him. He was already on edge and didn't want to push himself too far. Yet. He barely had a hold on the spirit as it was; it seemed to want to jump out of his body and touch her itself.

“You were made for sex, weren't you?” he purred into her ear. He laved the delicate shell with his tongue.

“I guess we'll find out,” she replied on a trembling breath.

She'd been made for him, really. More perfect Bait could not have been chosen. If she'd been sent to distract him, she was succeeding. If she'd been sent to learn about him and his friends, well, she'd succeeded in that, too. He'd told her more than he'd ever told another.

If she'd been sent to punish him, well, she'd done that, too. He'd never been more ashamed of himself. He should be anywhere but here right now, should be doing anything else. Instead, he
was
here.
Was
going to make love with Ashlyn. And he didn't care about the consequences.

Arms still banded around her shoulders, he lathered his hands. He set the soap on its perch and began the slow—really slow—process of cleaning her from head to toe. His soapy fingers snaked around her nipples, along the soft curve of her hips, on the sweet roundness of her belly.

She gave another of those groans, the sound eager and this time just for him. Her head fell onto his shoulder in open invitation, an action that said,
Do with me what you will.

“Do you like having someone clean you?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you still dirty?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere,” was the raspy answer.

He almost smiled. Almost. His desire was too dark for humor. Except blended with the darkness was wonder and awe.

His touch was rougher than he'd intended as he soaped her arms. She didn't seem to mind. He could see that she'd closed her eyes and was nibbling on her bottom lip, breathy little sighs emerging every few seconds.

“Have you ever showered with a man before?” Soap in hand, he dropped to his knees.

She stilled. Whispered, “No.”

He was glad. They would discover the pleasures of it together. Even before the demon had become part of him, he had not shown much tenderness to females. He had taken them quickly even then. They had been a pleasant convenience, nothing more. Something he'd wanted but had not needed.

After the curse, affection became more unthinkable. He'd always feared the spirit would show itself if he lingered over a female. Only then had he realized how precious time was, how he should have enjoyed his life when he'd had the chance.

He'd never been more afraid of the spirit than he was right now, but he didn't let it stop him from lingering this time, from savoring. Enjoying. He was too hard, too rough for most to handle, but he vowed not to be that way with Ashlyn.

I will control myself, whatever it takes. I will control the spirit.
He kissed the curve of Ashlyn's lower back, then licked his way up several of her vertebra.

“Hmm,” she gasped. “I—I like that.”

He liked it, too.

He liked everything about her.

After soaping her calves and thighs and biting the inside of his cheek to keep from biting
her,
he washed the suds from his hands. Unable to resist a moment more, he inserted two fingers into the very heat of her.

“Oh. Oh!” She jumped away from his erotic touch, but quickly leaned back against him, spreading her legs wider, silently asking for more.

The lather had been slick, and now, so was she. He stroked her, gently pinched her swollen core. A shiver rocked her. “Like it still?” he asked. Tension beat through him.

Take her. Take her now.

“Love it. I love it,” she chanted.

He pumped deep, as deep as he could go. She gasped out his name.

“Tight,” he said through clenched teeth. He almost thought he felt…No, surely not. “Hot.”

“Good. Feels good.”

Any moment now, he would be consumed by flames—flames hotter than the ones he battled in hell. He was shaking, more than before. He was hard, achingly hard. He was poised and ready for attack.

If he reacted this strongly to filling her with his fingers, what would he do when he filled her with his cock?

Don't stop. Can't stop.
Grinding his teeth, he worked another finger inside of her, stretching her…and that's when he could no longer deny the barrier that marked her as virgin. His lips pulled down in a tight glower. His head tilted to the side and he found himself staring between her legs in confusion.

Virgin? Surely not. She was a grown woman. But the barrier could not be refuted.

He withdrew from her and stood. He didn't touch her again, just looked her up and down. Like him, she was trembling.

A thousand thoughts tumbled through his fevered mind. How could so beautiful a woman still be a virgin? And why would Hunters send an inexperienced woman to tempt him?

She wouldn't know how.

Why would the gods send a virgin to punish him? Would that not simply punish the virgin?

Obviously confused by his sudden withdrawal, Ashlyn craned her neck until her eyes met his. Pleasure and pain warred for dominance on her lovely features. “Did I do something wrong?”

He shook his head, not yet ready to speak. Possessiveness was shooting through his every cell. No man had ever penetrated her. No man had ever tasted her sweetness.

“Why did you stop, then?” She turned to face him fully and he saw that her nipples were hard, rosy and wet. They reached for him, begging…begging…

He'd been about to take her virginity and he'd never even kissed her, he realized. Any woman, even Bait, even divine punishment, deserved better than that. And right now, he didn't believe she was either.

But she'd been out in that forest last night and four Hunters had been following her. The two situations were connected, he was certain of it, but now he thought—what? Could
Ashlyn
have been their target?

If so, why? She didn't hold a demon inside her; he would have sensed it. Wouldn't he? He didn't know anymore. Didn't know anything except that he wanted this woman with every fiber of his being. Had since the first moment he'd seen her. Something about her affected him deeply. Affected the spirit, even.

“Maddox?”

He badly wanted to take her virginity, but he wasn't going to. Not today. Not when she'd been sick only hours before. Not when he wasn't sure how he'd react to being inside her—and being her first. She would be a first for him, too. He'd never taken a virgin before. He would have to find the best way to go about it, the best way to keep Violence contained. The spirit would relish causing Ashlyn even momentary pain. Wouldn't it? He might have to chain himself.

As for now…

He backed her against the cool tile. Her eyes rounded, those big beautiful brown eyes. Even though his lips had yet to heal fully, he kissed her. Her mouth opened in surprise, then widened in eagerness, welcoming his tongue. He thrust it inside, angling his head to go deeper, to take more, to feed her as much as she needed. Her flavor tantalized him, minty, feminine.

There was another spark between them.

She gasped, and he swallowed the sound. His chest flattened against her breasts, her nipples so hard they stabbed at his skin. He could feel the erratic hammer of her heartbeat.

He bent his knees and pushed up, rubbing his erection against her. She gasped again. She shivered. Her hands tangled in his hair, gripping, pulling him closer. Their teeth banged together; the kiss continued…never stopped…lasted forever…a kiss of sorcery and dreams and fire.

Yes, fire. There was so much fire. White-hot. Blistering. An inferno inside of him. He bit her lower lip, couldn't have stopped himself even if he'd wanted to, which he no longer did. A bead of blood leaked onto his tongue. He savored the metallic taste.

Good, so good.

She moaned and bit him back, returning the darkness of his passion with a fervor that surprised him.
Gentle, calm.
He gripped her cheeks and forced—gently, calmly—her head to the side. Licking and nipping his way down her jaw, her collarbone, was almost his undoing. Her skin was like a drug and one little taste beckoned him to take more, do more. Experience all.

She arched against him, panting. She pulled back, panting still. She arched against him again. His erection probed between her legs, desperate to enter.

No, not yet.
Innocent, remember? She is innocent.

Her teeth sank into his collarbone, and he almost came. Almost spilled then and there. She was wild, frantic for release. Her fingers moved to his back and squeezed, kneaded. Her nails scored his skin.

He didn't think she was aware of her actions. Her head was thrashing from side to side and her eyes were closed. “I'll make you come,” he told her, fighting for his own control.

“Yes. Come.” She released him to grip her own breasts, to pinch the nipples between her fingers.

He'd never seen a more erotic sight.

“Just touch me,” she commanded roughly. “Don't stop touching me.”

“Will. Need…a moment.” He closed his fingers over his erection, knowing he'd spread her and take her if he didn't. He pumped once, twice. Hissed in a breath.

“Maddox. Hurry!”

“With my hands or mouth?” he asked, the words barely audible. The water was beating against her, slipping and sliding down her abdomen, daring him to follow and drink.

“Wh-what?” She pried open her eyes, looking at him, looking at herself. When she realized what she was doing with her hands, she dropped her arms to her sides and blushed.

“Should I touch you with my hands or my mouth?” He continued pumping his own hand down his swollen length, wishing it were
her
hand. Or her mouth. Her body.

“Hands?”

He didn't know a lot about humans, but he recognized her true desire. She wanted his mouth to finish her. He wanted it, too. The need probably embarrassed her; well, he would conquer that soon enough.