Thank you, meli.
That husky voice of his seeped into her thoughts, whirled around and around until it was all she could hear. And then she wasn’t listening anymore. She was dreaming. Of cotton fields and cannons and soldiers in gray coats, charging. Guns firing from across a valley. The clash of weapon against weapon. Ear-piercing cries of agony and heart-stopping shouts of victory.
And on the fringe, the man in her bed dressed all in black, standing in the shadows of the trees, watching the battle with a keen eye. Beside him, another man, this one older, with a similar facial structure and the same strong body, and wide, broad shoulders.
“This all will be yours,” the older man said with a sweep of his hands. “All of it. Yours to guard. Your birthright. Do not disappoint me.”
Before Casey could hear her Greek god’s response, the world went black.
Theron was wedged into the hottest, tightest, slickest place in Argolea. And he was loving every moment of it.
He lifted his hips. Twisted to get higher inside the gynaíka straddling his lap and breathing heavy against his neck. She tightened around his length until he was sure he’d explode. On a moan, she moved so the pressure eased. He groaned in frustration, thrust up into her burning wetness as she began to ride, and in reward, the climax he’d been seeking came screaming back, tightening his nuts to almost painful levels.
Where his climax hung. Teasing him. Taunting him. Just out of his reach.
With a curse he rolled her onto her back. Thrust deep, as sweat slid down his temple and dropped onto her face. Her nails scored the base of his spine as he pumped hard over and over. She kicked her dark head back against the pillow and screamed out her release. But he couldn’t get there with her. No matter what he did, he couldn’t finish. Frustrated, he kept pounding away at her. Reaching. Seeking. But nothing worked.
On the verge of screaming himself in agony, he flopped onto his back again. The sound of a door slamming somewhere in the distance brought his eyes immediately open.
His heavy breathing was the only sound in the dark room. Footsteps echoed from somewhere nearby. Slowly, he pushed up on his elbows and realized he was in bed. Naked. Alone.
Skata, he’d been dreaming. Dreaming of screwing some sexy, faceless gynaíka. And judging from the state of affairs between his legs, he hadn’t just been dreaming, he’d been humping away at the mattress to no avail.
Strange memories filtered through his hazy mind as he eased back down. A dark-haired beauty saving him from a group of daemons. The same mysterious gynaíka tending his wounds. A soothing voice. Kind, violet eyes. She, leaning over him, wearing nothing but a white lace bra that at the time hadn’t seemed significant but that now made his dick harden into a rod of steel.
Who was the gynaíka who’d left him in a fit of sexual despair the likes of which he couldn’t remember experiencing? It definitely wasn’t his bride-to-be. Isadora didn’t exactly excite him. He was weak, knew he’d been in some kind of fight and that sex should be the last thing on his mind, but it wasn’t. At the moment, all he could think about was his dream gynaíka and where the hell she was when he needed her most.
He kicked off the hot covers with his good leg, closed his eyes and saw her body. Slim waist. Small, firm, plump breasts that fit his hands to perfection. Luscious lips an ándras could sink into.
A tingle ran down his stomach as he imagined those beautiful lips of hers wrapped around the tip of his erection. The torturous erotic vision tore a groan from his chest. He threw his arm over his eyes and nearly came right there without any kind of physical stimulation.
Knock, knock, knock.
His eyes popped open when he realized he wasn’t alone after all.
“I heard you moving around in there,” a sultry female voice called from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”
Holy skata. What in Hades was this?
He scrambled for the quilt and pulled it over his very aroused body. And as the sexual haze cleared from his mind and his night vision sharpened, he realized this wasn’t his bed.
No, not his bed, not his house, and that definitely wasn’t a voice he recognized.
“Are you okay in there?” That voice now held an edge of panic. The doorknob rattled and turned.
Theron’s nerves kicked in as he pushed himself up against the headboard. He gritted his teeth at the stab of pain in his leg and glanced around the room. He couldn’t see his clothes. Or his weapons.
Double skata.
He caught his breath as the door pushed open. Then exhaled on a smothered groan when a tall, dark-haired beauty with eyes like a violet sunrise stepped into the room.