Truth or Demon nov-5 Page 23

  Instantly, he was up, looking past her toward the back of the restaurant.

  “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

  Poppy shook her head—a little too quickly. A little too adamantly. “No. Everything’s fine. I just want—I just would like to go home.”

  He studied her a moment longer, then again glanced over her shoulder.

  “Of course.” He rose and moved to wrap a protective arm around her. She sank against him, and he could actually feel she was trembling.

  Something had happened in the restroom. And he had no doubt it was Vepar. What the hell did he want?

  By the time they got back to her apartment, Poppy had made up her mind that she’d imagined the incident in the restroom. It had to have been the wine. The lighting. Her own overstimulated body. Probably a combination of all of the above. But here in her cozy living room, the whole event seemed, well, silly.

  But of course, now that she was here, alone with Killian, a whole different kind of nervousness filled her.

  She glanced at him. He leaned on the hallway doorframe, almost as if he was afraid to enter the living room with her. Their arousal had simmered all night, and now that they were alone, maybe he was having second thoughts.

  As if to corroborate, he remained where he was and asked, “Poppy, are you sure?”

  She stared at him for a moment. She was nervous, but she wanted him too much to let her nerves stop her.

  She nodded, just a slight bob of her head, but that was enough for him.

  “Come here.” His voice was rougher now, almost guttural.

  She hesitated for only a moment, then walked toward him, watching his expression as she got nearer. His golden eyes burned with desire. Hot, hungry. The same emotions that blazed inside her.

  Her body vibrated with need as she stopped just inches from him. She raised her face to him, knowing that uncertainty also mingled with her need for him. But she hoped something else was clear in her eyes. Trust.

  She trusted him.

  CHAPTER 32

  But even as she offered her trust, she was scared.

  Killian loomed over her like a ravenous lion, his golden eyes flashing with burning hunger. But that wasn’t what scared her. She somehow knew he’d do whatever she asked. He’d stay; he’d go. He didn’t frighten her.

  She was what scared her. She was frightened of what would happen once she spent a whole night in his arms, once he was deep in her body, making her his. But she was just as frightened of telling him no and letting him walk out the door.

  Could she handle this? She closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to stop being so nervous, so scared to take any risks.

  Then she felt his hands cupping her face. Large warm hands, making her feel delicate, and protected. She opened her eyes and met his gaze.

  “Poppy.” Her name was like a prayer on his lips. His eyes searched her face, concern replacing some of the yearning.

  “I—I want you so much,” she admitted. Her heart raced, a mixture of desire and fear.

  “I want you too.”

  His hands still held her, and his lips came down, pressing to hers. Not a wild kiss of passion. Not one of persuasion. Just a gentle brushing of his lips against hers. First at the corners of her mouth, then directly on the center.

  “We’ll do whatever you want,” he told her against her lips.

  She nodded, knowing that was her answer. She was doing this. She had to do this, or she would regret letting him leave for the rest of her life.

  She reached up and caught one of his hands. Without a word, she turned and led him to her bedroom. The room was shadowy, the only light that from the living room. But she didn’t reach for her lamp. She found the dimness comforting.

  She turned back to him, and this time, she was the one to press her mouth to his. Her lips trembled against his, her fingers quivering as she touched his unruly hair, the strands as soft as his large body was hard.

  He reached up to curl his fingers around one of her hands, then lifted his head, bringing their joined hands between them. Gently, he feathered kisses over each of her trembling fingers, his eyes still locked with hers.

  “You don’t have any idea how beautiful you are, do you?” he whispered.

  She shook her head.

  “Well, I intend to show you. And you’ll never doubt it again.”

  She almost believed him. She wanted to believe him.

  He shifted then, his movement so quick, she barely registered it until she was lifted high against his muscular chest. Not even time for a surprised cry, but her arms did come up around his neck to balance herself.

  He strode to the bed, settling her in the center. She lay back against the softness of her duvet, watching as he straightened.

  After a few moments, he touched her again, running a hand from her knee down to her ankle, where he paused at her shoe. With nimble fingers, he worked the buckle open. The shoe thumped to the floor. His hands moved to the other leg, skimming downward again, knee to ankle; then he unfastened that shoe.

  “Did I tell you how sexy your shoes looked?”

  She shook her head, not sure what he’d said or not said. All she could focus on was this moment.

  He curled his hands around her foot, his thumbs pressing into the arch, the pressure so erotic, she almost cried out. He massaged her foot for a moment, then repeated the action on the other foot, and this time she couldn’t contain her whimper.

  “Feel good, baby?”

  She nodded, closing her eyes. He continued to knead her foot, the touch more sensual than she could have imagined. Then his hands moved to her ankle, her calf, up to her thigh.

  Then his hands were gone. She whimpered again, opening her eyes. He smiled down at her.

  “Want more, baby?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, her voice rough with desire.

  He massaged up her other leg, stopping just short of the place that ached most for his touch.

  Instead, he held out a hand to her. Mindlessly, she accepted it, and he hoisted her to her feet, her rubbery legs barely supporting her. But he anchored her against his broad, hard chest, while the other hand worked on the zipper at her back.

  “I love this dress,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear, his breath brushing her hair, tickling her skin. “I told you that, right?”

  She nodded again, although she still didn’t recall what he’d told her. She thought to tell him she couldn’t remember anything beyond this moment, but her tongue refused to work.

  Then he was pushing her dress down her body, and all thought was gone. She stood before him in just her black lace bra and matching panties.

  This time he was the one to make a noise deep in his throat as his gaze skimmed over her body.

  “Damn, you are so, so beautiful.”

  In that moment, she felt beautiful.

  He caught her around the waist and brought her body up against his, her skin sensitive to the material of his clothes.

  A brief moment of lucidity made its way to her dazed brain. “You need to undress too.”

  He smiled down at her, the curve of his lips lopsided and sexy. “Oh, I’m going to, don’t you worry.”

  He stole a quick kiss, then spun her in his arms, the twirl making her dizzy. But she liked the feeling of her bottom pressed against his groin. She could feel his erection and instinctively rubbed against it.

  He groaned and pressed her down onto the bed, his weight coming down with her. But all too quickly, he was gone again. She started to roll over to see where he’d gone, but his voice stopped her.

  “Stay on your belly.”

  She obeyed, resting her head on her arms, waiting. She could hear the brush of material against material and realized he must be undressing. She ached, wanting to see him. She turned her head as much as her prone position would allow, but she couldn’t see him. Not from that angle.

  Then the mattress shifted under his weight as he joined her.

  She moaned as
his strong hands cupped her shoulders, rubbing the muscles there. They worked over the muscles of her back, pausing at her bra to undo the hook. When it fell away, he began his massage again, moving lower and lower.

  His fingers reached her panties, wasting no time to slide them down and off her legs. Then Killian rubbed her bottom, squeezing the cheeks, a fingertip tracing the line that ran between her thighs toward the point that pulsed for his touch.

  “Like that?”

  She nodded vigorously. She’d had no idea someone massaging her bottom could be so erotic. Then he slipped one of his hands down past her bottom to the swollen aching flesh just below. His fingers parted her, circling the entrance of her vagina, teasing her.

  “Oh, baby, you are so wet.”

  She thought for a split second that maybe she should be embarrassed at her prone, helpless position. At his comment about the intensity of her arousal.

  Then his fingertip found her swollen clitoris, and all concerns fled, chased away on a rush of total ecstasy. She gasped and wantonly lifted her bottom to offer him better access.

  And he rewarded her, staying on that engorged nubbin, while he filled her with a long finger, sinking in and out, mimicking what she wanted him to do with another part of his anatomy.

  “Are you going to come for me?” His words were more a coax than a question.

  “Yes,” she gasped. “Yes.”

  He continued the motion, each thrust bringing her closer to the thing he requested. Then as her muscles began to spasm around the finger deep within her, he pushed on her clitoris.

  And instantly her release hit her, a hard, sudden impact, knocking her breath from her with its intensity.

  He continued to stroke her until the orgasm slowly rippled into small tremors. Carefully he withdrew his hand from her and eased her over onto her back.

  She gazed up at him from heavy, hooded eyes.

  “How was that, baby?”

  She smiled up at him. “Wonderful. But now I want you inside me.”

  Killian fought back a moan at her demand. He wanted to be inside her too, but tonight wasn’t about him. This was about Poppy and making her understand what a desirable, amazing woman she was.

  She watched him, from those sleepy eyes, waiting. Then she levered herself onto her elbows.

  “Come here,” she whispered, a soft, sweet command.

  He leaned over her, and she kissed him. Her lips were as soft and sweet as her voice. One of her hands came up to cup the back of his head, and she pulled him down with her.

  “I want to feel you deep inside me,” she murmured against his ear as she spread her legs, begging him to move between them.

  That was a plea he couldn’t deny. Hands on either side of her head, his shifted himself over her, bringing his hips into alignment with hers.

  But he didn’t enter her. Instead, he rubbed his erection against her, between her lips, against her wet heat. She gently pumped her hips too, slanting herself to better feel him rubbing against her.

  He watched her expression, seeing her clearly despite the shadows moving around them. She was so gorgeous, her hair coming loose from the twist on the back of her head. Her pale skin flushed with desire. Her eyes sparkling.

  He kissed her, needing to taste and feel that beauty with every part of him. Her hands clung to his shoulders, small fingers digging into his skin.

  “Please,” she begged against his mouth. “Please, I need you inside me.”

  He kissed her again, positioning himself, just nudging the head of his penis inside her. But Poppy was too impatient for slow. Her hands left his shoulders to grab his hips and with a powerful pull, she brought him fully into her wet, tight heat.

  He cried out at the strength of his reaction. Ecstasy shot through him, making his muscles and his breath seize. He had to remain still, not just to allow her to adjust but to get back his control.

  “Poppy,” he moaned, and she writhed in response. He braced his hands on the mattress, and slowly he pivoted his hips, testing both his restraint and her ability to accept his size.

  “You are so tight,” he gritted through clenched teeth. Damn, she was going to push him over the edge in seconds flat.

  “You are so big,” she said back, straining against him.

  He started to ask if he was hurting her, but her small wiggles and the lifts of her hips made it impossible to talk. So instead he focused on keeping his movements smooth and steady and not too deep.

  But Poppy was having none of that. Her hands cupped his buttocks, fingers digging into the muscles there as she urged him in harder and deeper.

  With a growl, he gave in to her insistence. He thrust into her, filling her over and over until they were both panting. Both filling the air with mindless moans and cries.

  As Poppy got closer, her head thrashed from side to side against the covers. She bucked up against him, screaming out her orgasm.

  He followed her, shouting out her name, keeping himself buried inside her, her muscles squeezing him, his cock pulsating in rhythm.

  Damn. Damn.

  CHAPTER 33

  Poppy couldn’t imagine that she’d so easily fallen asleep with Killian in her bed, but when she came back to awareness, sunshine flooded into her bedroom. She blinked, looking around her.

  Killian was sprawled next to her, his large, muscular body taking up more than his fair share of the bed. She rose up on her elbow, admiring what she hadn’t had the patience to admire last night.

  Killian was beautiful all the time, but in his sleep he was almost painfully so. There was a sweetness to his face, like an angel fallen to earth. Lashes that most of the female population would kill for were splayed against his angled cheekbones. Waves of hair shone brown and gold and nutmeg against her pale green pillowcases. Perfect sculpted lips and a chiseled jawline. He was a breathtaking combination of pure beauty and pure masculinity.

  Of course, his body was nothing but masculine magnificence. Tall with lean muscles, he had the body of a swimmer, with broad shoulders and tapered hips. His skin was golden and smooth, although fine golden hair covered his forearms and legs. Slightly darker hair whorled around his belly button, then into a line that disappeared under the corner of her duvet, the only bit of blanket that covered him in his sleep. And she didn’t think that had to do with modesty. Killian didn’t strike her as the type to be worried about his nudity.

  Using that as her justification, she reached for the edge of the blanket. Carefully she lifted it, peeking underneath at the part of his anatomy that had been inside her, but she’d had yet to really see.

  Even soft and nestled amid curling, tidy pubic hair, his penis was large. But then she’d been aware of that fact last night too, as he’d filled her so fully that she’d been sure she would burst. In fact, as she stretched out her legs now, a pleasant soreness reminded her of just how well endowed he was.

  She smiled to herself, realizing it was that secret kind of smile where only she knew what had occurred to bring it to her face. She flopped back against the pillows, curling on her side to watch Killian sleep.

  He really was amazingly attractive. By far the handsomest man she’d ever seen. How had she gotten so lucky? She didn’t know, but she wasn’t going to question it. After all, this was supposed to be fun. Not too much analyzing allowed.

  So she didn’t question herself when she brushed a fingertip over his mouth, tracing the almost pouty curve of his lips. Then she snuggled against him. Even in his sleep, he curled an arm around her, tucking her close to his side. She smiled that secret smile again and let her eyes drift closed.

  This was a nice way to wake up and a nice way to fall asleep too.

  She moaned in her sleep as a large hand stroked over her skin, fingers plucking gently at her nipples, warm lips trailing kisses along her shoulder and neck.

  Poppy opened her eyes, realizing this time she wasn’t just dreaming. She looked down at herself, watching Killian’s hand skimming over her body. Caressing her breasts,
then down over her belly and between her thighs. She arched as he swirled a finger over her clitoris, and a broken gasp escaped her.

  “Are you sore?” he murmured, his mouth right beside her ear.

  “No.”

  He continued to tease her clitoris with light, sweeping brushes of his finger, gently bringing her to full arousal. When she was squirming for more, her breaths coming in short, whimpering bursts, he raised her leg and angled her so he could slide his huge erection between her thighs. He rubbed against her, spreading her open, then with low moans of his own, he entered her. Slowly, steadily filling her.

  She gasped, arching her back, loving the feeling of him stretching her. Rocking her toward her release with long, unhurried thrusts.

  “You feel so good,” he whispered against her ear. “I fit like I was made for you.”

  She couldn’t argue that, even if words would come. He did feel like he belonged there, deep inside her, sliding in and out, in and out.

  Then his fingertips were back, stroking her. Rubbing that tiny sensitive spot that had the ability to make her scream. To suddenly make her moves frantic, desperate.

  “There’s no rush, baby.” He kissed the side of her neck, then reached around to hold her chin, tilting her head to kiss her. His kiss was as thorough and leisurely as his lovemaking.

  One hand returned between her thighs, while the other played with her breast, teasing her nipple. And still he kissed her.

  The combination was too much, all those delicious sensations, catapulting her toward her climax. She tensed, waves of ecstasy flooding over her, so it was hard to catch her breath.

  And still he didn’t stop, touching her until yet another orgasm shook her. Then another.

  Finally, holding her tight against him, his arm wrapped around her middle, her back to his chest, his hips slanted between hers, he began to drive into her deeper, harder. His speed picked up until she could feel his own release wrack his body.