Page 25 of Metatron
“I simply need to place a hand on your flesh. Any part of your body is fine. A connection is all that is needed.”
“I swear if you yell praise God and slap me in the forehead, I will kick you in the balls. I know you have some,” she threatened.
“This won’t hurt,” he promised. He held out his hand and waited. She slid her slender fingers against his palm and the contact sizzled with awareness for him.
He wasn’t the only one who sucked in a breath. Their gazes met, locked, and remained that way as he opened himself to the ability he’d discovered by accident when he’d almost died on a mission. He’d been fighting some bugs on a flock planet when the ambush hit. In the melee that followed, he’d gotten knocked senseless and woke in a burrow, wrapped tight in a cocoon.
In his panic, the power just seared out of him, ashing the strands and sending him falling to the ground. He was the only one to escape alive. Elyon called it a miracle. But Metatron knew otherwise.
Over time he’d experimented to realize he wielded something similar to the scions—a power to heal, but he could also destroy. Since his arrival on Earth, he’d never felt stronger. All that suul begging to be used.
He held Francesca and willed his holy spirit, the only word he had for it, to do his bidding and ease her discomfort.
The tension in her released first then a breath, and when she exclaimed, “Oh, I haven’t felt this good in ages,” he let go, but their gazes remained locked, and Francesca smiled at him for once. A radiant curve of her lips.
Blame the intimacy of healing, the fact he’d been denying himself since they met, but he couldn’t resist. He dragged her close, lifting her on tiptoe to brush his mouth against hers.
Chapter 8
I’d been kissed—and much more—by Tron before. In my dreams. But the real thing?
Wow.
Blame the fact my awareness of him kicked up a zillion notches when he took my hand in his. His subsequent healing had me feeling energetic—and aroused. When he put his mouth to mine, I ignited.
For weeks I’d been fighting my attraction to him, but now that he embraced me, his mouth slanting over mine, teasing and coaxing, I couldn’t shove him away. I grabbed hold of his shirt and made sure he couldn’t stop.
The kiss turned into one of panted breaths and nips. Tongues sinuously played. My body rubbed against his, his erection evident despite our clothes.
I reached for him, and he groaned, “We should stop.”
I stepped back despite my desire to keep going and said, “If you insist. I don’t need you to finish.” I stared at him, a dare in my gaze.
He growled. “Why can I not resist you?”
I couldn’t help teasing, “Because I’m perfect.”
“You are everything,” he growled.
He didn’t have to reach for me. I threw myself into his arms, and this time, our kiss didn’t end, even as we fumbled at each other’s clothes.
My robe hit the floor in a puddle. His clothes took a little more effort, and they ripped in their removal. I had to admit to being excited at how eager he appeared.
He walked us back to the bed, the backs of his knees hitting it and indicating he could sit. He did so but ensured his hands on me maneuvered me into his lap. I sat sideways, my legs over his, his hard erection pressing against my ass.
To say I was wet would be an understatement. As his fingers threaded my hair to cup my scalp and keep our lips locked, I squirmed in his lap, already hungry for the end game. But he seemed content to kiss me, angling my head to give him deeper access, his tongue plundering and sliding against mine.
My hands couldn’t stay still. They cupped his cheeks as I tasted him. They roved his body, tracing the contour of his shoulders, skimming over firm flesh, nails dragging and teasing. He growled, “If you don’t stop touching me, this won’t last long.”
“Good because I hate to wait.” I’d never understood guys who bragged about taking hours to give a girl an orgasm. Did they suck at it? Me, if I wanted to come, I wanted to come. Now. Not in an hour when my skin was rubbed raw.
I turned in his lap and properly sat astride, this time trapping his cock between our bellies. His hands palmed my ass cheeks and stroked the flesh but only for a moment before he used them to lean me back, projecting my breast.
He took a nipple into his mouth, just engulfed it and sucked. I quivered so hard I almost came. I did squirm and moan while he kept me arched, teasing my breasts, sucking them, nibbling the tips, grazing them with his teeth, driving me insane with pleasure.
I wasn’t the only one moaning, though. He hummed as he played with me. Groaned when I reached between us to grab him.
My what a handful. It would be tight. And he’d go deep. Just the way I liked it.