Page 59 of Bedeviled

I drag his hand to my folds, and when his fingers move softly there, I gasp, arching into him.

His glowing eyes devour my expression. He does the movement again, this time more deliberately, pulling another embarrassing noise from my throat.

The corner of his mouth curves up, like he enjoys that.

His hand leaves my pussy, and he splays it across my upper chest, dragging it down between my breasts, his eyes following the movements. When it gets to my navel his hand fans out around my hips and buttocks and to the back of one of my thighs. He wraps the leg around his hip, then does the same to my other, hoisting me higher against the wall until we’re nearly lined up.

I bite my lower lip, watching him.

Need to be inside her…

I catch Memnon’s stray thought as he spreads my thighs apart, fitting his cock into place.

His eyes flick to mine and hold. I don’t breathe as the two of us stare at each other. He doesn’t break eye contact when, with a single, punishing thrust, he enters me.

I cry out at the intrusion, only for Memnon’s mouth to find mine, devouring the sound. He presses in closer, the action deepening the stretch.

Then he begins to thrust. Again and again and again. Not waiting for me to catch up. My nails bite into his skin where I grip him, and I hold him close. Each stroke has more rawness than Memnon’s usual thrusts. But this is not typical Memnon. The monster that lives in his magic is in control now.

“You are mine, my queen,” he says in Sarmatian. “To protect, to love. To claim as my own.” The words echo in that deep, unnatural way, and though they give me the chills again, I’m not terrified by him the same way I have been.

The proclamation is punctuated by more brutal strokes. They’re coming fast and deep, and I can rapidly sense my orgasm approaching.

“Let me see you,” I whisper against his ear.

Memnon doesn’t slow, but he does pull away from where he’s buried his face in my shoulder. Under the shower spray, his wet hair looks like snakes shifting as his power moves it. He really does appear otherworldly like this.

I don’t remember a time when his power rode him this long. It lingered after he saved me from Juliana, and it almost wholly consumed him after he encountered Eislyn. I’d been able to coax him back then.

Perhaps it’s getting worse.

I move aside a lock of hair. “Come back to me, Memnon. I love you. We are eternal.”

His eyes don’t dim. Instead he drives into me mercilessly.

I shiver, half from the sight of him and half from the water, which is growing cold once more.

Memnon’s hips pause, his eyes dropping to the raised gooseflesh along my skin.

Abruptly he withdraws from me, his magic turning the shower off. My legs slide back to the ground as he steps out of my embrace and leaves the shower, only to return with a towel.

The whole thing happens so fast, the sorcerer going from erotic and punishing to doting and concerned, I have whiplash from it.

He wraps the towel around my body and lifts me once more.

You don’t need to manhandle me, Memnon. I really can walk.

The sorcerer doesn’t respond, just continues carrying me out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

My eyes take it all in rapidly—the carved black bedframe and sapphire blue comforter, the cream and jewel tone décor, the exposed timber ceiling and iron chandelier. It feels opulent.

I try to slip from Memnon’s arms.

“No, no, no,” he says ominously. He tosses me onto the bed, my ass in the air for a split second, before Memnon grabs me by my hips. With another ruthless thrust, he reenters me.

I gasp, dropping my head to the sheets as my body surges forward.

He leans in close. “Did you think it was over?”