There’s a sharp intake of breath above me when I touch my tongue to his arousal. His voice already strained, he says, “There’s no chance of that.”
I lick him again, this time more boldly. I wasn’t lying. I have no idea what I’m doing. I figure there aren’t too many ways to mess this up, though, so I begin at the top. As I get used to his thickness and the taste of his liquid pearling on my tongue, I take him more fully into my mouth and suck a little on the way back up.
“Good Gods!” Griffin mutters, bracing one hand against the bedpost. The other touches the top of my head, curling into my hair. I move up and down, licking and swirling my tongue. I can’t think of anything else to do, so I take the base of his shaft in my hand and squeeze. His hips buck, so I do it again. His breathing turns unsteady. His fingers tighten in my hair, guiding me into a faster rhythm.
Wanting to draw out the pleasure like he did for me, I rock back on my heels and look up. Griffin is watching me, his face rigid with need. There are other feelings there, too, and the stark emotion makes me want to do more than please him. I want him so delirious for me that he’ll forgive me for anything, no matter what I do, or who I am. I understand what he meant now about Ares and Aphrodite. If I can make him want me enough, maybe he’ll never give up on me.
I cup his balls and lick him from base to tip. Griffin follows my every move, and the way he watches me—the dark intensity, the longing in his eyes, how they blaze with raw desire—spreads through me like a drug. Heady pressure builds low in my abdomen. I grow wetter between my thighs.
I sink down again, taking his shaft far into my mouth. A groan rises in Griffin’s throat. His breath comes faster, in harsh pants. I take him deeper, harder, and a shudder rolls through him.
He reaches for my shoulders and tries to pull me up. “If you keep up like this, I’ll come in your mouth.”
I don’t let him move me. I’m not about to reject his life force. Maybe I’ll end up twice as strong as I was before. I sink my nails into his sculpted backside and suck hard.
His breath rattles above me. “Cat…”
I don’t stop despite his warning tone, trying to make up for what I might lack in skill with sheer enthusiasm.
Griffin throws his head back and roars. The rough sound of his release whips up a storm inside me. Fevered need pulses between my legs. I want him inside me, thrusting hard and fast.
His liquid is warm and salty, and there’s a surprising amount. The spasms stop just when I’m afraid I can’t swallow any more without gagging.
Griffin yanks me up, clutching me against his chest, which rises and falls with labored breaths. “You can spit,” he pants, crushing me against him. “Or throw up if you need to.”
I laugh and then choke a little.
“That was amazing.” He sinks his hands into my hair and rains kisses all over my face. “You’re amazing. I love you.”
My heart flips over, and I bury my nose in his chest. “The things men will say for sex,” I mutter against his sweat-slicked skin.
“It’s after the sex.”
My head jerks up, and I frown. “Really? There’s no more?”
The widest, most disarming grin I’ve ever seen spreads across his face, and I lose my heart entirely. Griffin grips my hips and tosses me back onto the bed. Following me, he kisses and touches and licks and nibbles until I’m thrashing and wild. When he finally comes to me, my whole body thrums with needing him. I moan at the fullness and revel in his firm strokes, meeting them with eager, raised hips as Griffin guides us toward a mutual climax that’s even more intense and shattering than before.
After my storm quiets and our heartbeats calm, we lie together, tangled, sweaty, and spent. Griffin eventually gets up to blow out the lamps before coming back and tucking me against his side. I’m way too hot, but I don’t move or push him away because I just don’t want to.
Happiness is a strange, frightening, fragile feeling when you’re not used to it. I turn into him, laying my hand across his chest and draping my bent leg over his thigh. I guess I can get used to the touching.
With a contented sound, Griffin puts his hand over mine. It engulfs mine, twice its size.
I stare at our joined hands for a long time, wondering what tomorrow will bring.
CHAPTER 31
The next evening, Jocasta sends her maid to do my hair. She styles it half up and half down, and I’m careful of the expertly braided coils interwoven with delicate gold rope as I finish dressing for the realm dinner, my nerves in a tangle. Griffin comes in just as I’m strapping on my sandals, and I find him devastatingly handsome in his new dark trousers and snowy white tunic with gold trim. He leans against the wall, folds his arms over his chest, and crosses his legs at the ankles, watching me. He looks relaxed, but his eyes burn, and my temperature rises.