Black tendrils of ink had slid across his eyes as he watched her. Glistening and dark and dangerous, the blackness took over, but it was still him. She could see him in his expression. In the youthful lines of his face.
She tightened her hold. He bit down on his lip and released a soft groan before grabbing her wrist. But it was too late. She sank onto the floorboard between his legs, pulled him free, and slid her mouth over his steely cock.
He grabbed handfuls of hair to rein her in. She inched farther down anyway.
“Amber, fuck.”
Reveling in her power over him, she eased back and then swallowed him again. He grabbed the armrest as she repeated her performance. She felt the blood rush through his rigid cock.
“Amber,” he whispered a microsecond before he dragged her onto his lap and kissed her. His mouth was warm and heady, his scruff soft against her cheeks as he drove his tongue inside her mouth. Seeking. Tasting. Sucking. The kiss grew more desperate, nearly brutal in its exquisiteness.
Now straddling him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, broke off the kiss, and held his head to her breast. He moved his hand into the sweats and over her ass. One hand slid between her ass cheeks and between her legs. She squirmed, but he held her tight. Parted her folds. Dipped his fingers to wet them, then found her clit and circled it, his touch feathery soft, such a contrast to the rest of him.
The orgasm she’d been craving at his hands sparked to life beneath his deft touch, the pressure delicious. “Quentin,” she said, burying her fingers in his hair.
He continued circling, his movements slow and meticulous.
She threw back her head and spread her knees farther apart to give him better access. To let the heat simmering in her abdomen come to a boil. With his free hand, he tugged at her shirt. She lifted it over her head, and he made quick work of her bra.
The cool air tightened her skin. He pulled her against him and took a nipple into his mouth. It sent heat flares to that place in her core where all the orgasms lived, waiting for their turn to blossom. She plucked one and coaxed it forward as his touch grew more urgent. As his tongue teased the delicate peak it had been nurturing.
His desire impatient, he lowered her onto the bench seat. He peeled the sweats off her and kissed the inside of her left ankle before perching that foot on the passenger’s seat headrest. He kissed the inside of her right ankle and perched that foot on the back headrest, then continued peppering the inside of her leg with kisses, leaving heat trails on her skin. When his mouth sought her core and covered her clit, she almost came off the seat.
He forced her back down and suckled her clit softly as she writhed beneath him. She buried her hands in his hair as the world spiraled around her. “Quentin,” she said, her voice more desperate than she’d planned. “Hurry.”
He rose, ripped open a condom, and slid it over his rock-hard erection. She watched, her mouth watering as he stroked his cock, priming it for what came next. Then he hovered over her, his eyes solid black like a predator readying to devour its prey.
When he pressed into her, she dug her nails into his shoulders. It had been a very long time, but the pain only pushed her to greater heights. She fought for air as he slid inside her, burying himself in one long thrust. A movement that elicited a gasp before she remembered that he could hear her. Still, she gasped again when he slid out and plunged back inside.
His muscles had solidified. He reached one arm over and grabbed the door above his head, his hand, hard and masculine, starting to shake. A beautiful, dark kind of agony overcame him as he grew closer to climax.
She could hardly take her eyes off him, but her orgasm was skyrocketing toward her. She clutched him to her and locked both her arms and her legs around him as he drove into her, each thrust feeding the pressure building in her core. He pounded faster and faster, and she cried out when heat bloomed inside her like a nuclear reactor. It exploded, soaring through every molecule in her body, spilling over in sweet and stinging waves of pleasure.
“Holy fuck,” he growled, pushing inside her and holding his position as his orgasm spasmed through his body. He ground his teeth and waited it out before easing his hold with a final, shuddering breath.
She grabbed handfuls of his hair and pulled him down to her, their quick breaths matching pace. Their heartbeats synchronizing.
When he rose and looked at her, his eyes were blue again. Unreal. Amazing, astonishing, magnificent, and unreal. And here she’d wanted to sleep in.
Chapter Ten
Large freight only.
—Women’s underwear
She lay sprawled on top of Quentin on the backseat, marveling at the way the day had gone and the number of times she’d climaxed—mostly at the number of times she’d climaxed—when something the demon said hit her.
Again, it all boiled down to control. Quentin had been livid about the fact that Rune had taken control. That she’d had him take control. He’d lost the one thing he cherished most. His independence. His autonomy.
The demon wanted to be set free from the house. It wanted the salt line broken so it could leave. But it’d first said it wanted its freedom. What if it had been talking about two separate things? Even though it had completed its tasks, it’d still been in town. Waiting. The image of the woman Amber had seen popped into her head.
“Quentin, I think I know what’s going on. Why the killings are so unusual for a demon. And so random.”
He ran a hand lazily over her back. “I’m all ears.”
“What if the demon has no free will? What if someone, or a group of someones, is controlling it? It told me it wanted its freedom and that it seeks the summoner. What if it meant freedom from the people controlling it? From the people summoning it?”
“What makes you think multiple people are controlling it?”
She rose and rested her chin on the back of her hands. “Remember how it kills at least two people everywhere it goes?”
“Hard to forget.”
“And are those people always connected somehow?”
“Yes. It’s one way I know it’s the right demon. Strange deaths of two or more connected people that are unusual and days apart.”
“I think it’s killing the person it was summoned to kill and then killing the summoner as a way to gain its freedom. It wants control over its destiny, but people keep summoning it. When I read the demon, I got a lot of anger. A ton of frustration. Like it had no control, and that pissed it off. And,” she said, stopping to chew on her lower lip a moment, “I know who it wants to kill next.”
He stilled, clearly surprised. “You saw?”
She nodded. “I did.” She looked toward the Tavern. “Sarah. I think she summoned it. It was weird. I heard clicking on a keyboard. Saw her face. It’s something online. Some kind of chat room. Or cult.”
“Same difference. The dark web has a lot of stuff like that.”
“Yes. Exactly.” Amber looked at him. “Quentin, I think Sarah wanted those three specific people dead for a reason, I just don’t know why.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Let’s ask.”
The fact that he believed her without question meant everything to her. He put his hand on the door handle, but she stopped him by reaching over and putting her hand over his.