Read Online Leopard's Kiss (Shadow Guardians) (Shadows Guardians Book 1) by Stephanie Rowe - Free Book Online
Book: Leopard's Kiss (Shadow Guardians) (Shadows Guardians Book 1) by Stephanie Rowe
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Authors: Stephanie Rowe
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assault was electric, overwhelming, more than she could handle. She twisted in his grasp, unable to dislodge his iron grip on her as he held her where he wanted her, sweeping across her folds with exact precision, knowing exactly where she wanted to be touched, knowing when to stay, and when to switch.
She flattened her palms on the ceiling, trying to ground herself as he continued his assault. The orgasm began to build, gaining strength, ready to tear her apart—
Tell me who you're with right now. His voice was a ruthless command. Who are you with, Anya?
She looked down to see him staring up at her, his dark eyes turbulent with desire and something else. Vulnerability. Her heart tightened, and she touched his head. "I'm with you. I'm not thinking of anyone else. I know it's you."
His jaw flexed, and he nodded once. Then he pressed a kiss to her belly, just below her navel, a kiss that wasn't about sex. It was a kiss of tenderness and intimacy that went way beyond a raw physical connection. She bit her lip, and then gasped as he kissed her again, this time lower, sweeping her damp folds into a kiss that shook her all the way to her core. His assault was relentless, endless, and demanding, mercilessly dragging her over that precipice.
The orgasm erupted through her, and she screamed, her hips bucking as he continued his relentless assault, drawing the orgasm on and on, until she thought her body was going to shatter. It wasn't until she was about to collapse that he finally let up, catching her as she fell down into his arms, exhausted and spent, her muscles still shaking.
He stared down at her, his face an impenetrable mask as he held her. She was too exhausted to hold herself up, and she sagged against him, trying to catch her breath.
"Good?" he asked.
"Good?" She almost laughed, until she saw the furrow to his brow, making her realize that he was genuinely asking. "Yes. Incredible. Best ever."
It was only then that he smiled, a brief flash of humanity in his stoic face as he scooped her up, his hand tunneling through her hair as he cradled her against his chest. He kissed her again, not a kiss intended to start her up again. More of a claiming kiss, one designed to take the credit for her exhausted state.
She rested her head against his shoulder, unable to hold it up on her own. She'd never been stripped so bare in her life, but she was too drained to care. She slid out of his arms as he set her on the couch, barely holding herself up long enough to collapse on the cushion.
He crouched beside her, watching her as she rolled onto her side to face him. His forehead was etched with concern. "It was too much for you," he said.
"At the time I had no complaints." She was trembling now, unable to stay warm. Her skin felt too cold, and her muscles were too shaky to hold herself up. She closed her eyes. "I don't feel well now, though."
"I drained you." He swore under his breath, and immediately shed his trench coat. He draped it over her, tucking it around her. It was warm from his body heat, and it smelled of him, a faint scent of woods and man, and something darker and more dangerous. "I've never kissed for pleasure," he said. "Not like that. I should have realized that this could happen. My kisses are meant to take life, not give it."
She managed to open her eyes at the edge in his voice. His face was grim, and the self-recrimination was etched in the lines on his face. "You've never kissed for pleasure? Ever?"
He shook his head. "I've kissed to kill. I've fucked to satisfy the base urges of being a male. But I've never kissed simply for pleasure."
"How was it?"
He shook his head, refusing to accept pleasure for himself in the wake of her state. "I hurt you. Unacceptable."
She hugged the coat closer to her. "You're an assassin. How can it bother you that your kiss took a lot out of me?"
"I kill only those I intend to kill. No one else gets hurt. Ever." His jaw flexed. He stood up and strode across the barren
She flattened her palms on the ceiling, trying to ground herself as he continued his assault. The orgasm began to build, gaining strength, ready to tear her apart—
Tell me who you're with right now. His voice was a ruthless command. Who are you with, Anya?
She looked down to see him staring up at her, his dark eyes turbulent with desire and something else. Vulnerability. Her heart tightened, and she touched his head. "I'm with you. I'm not thinking of anyone else. I know it's you."
His jaw flexed, and he nodded once. Then he pressed a kiss to her belly, just below her navel, a kiss that wasn't about sex. It was a kiss of tenderness and intimacy that went way beyond a raw physical connection. She bit her lip, and then gasped as he kissed her again, this time lower, sweeping her damp folds into a kiss that shook her all the way to her core. His assault was relentless, endless, and demanding, mercilessly dragging her over that precipice.
The orgasm erupted through her, and she screamed, her hips bucking as he continued his relentless assault, drawing the orgasm on and on, until she thought her body was going to shatter. It wasn't until she was about to collapse that he finally let up, catching her as she fell down into his arms, exhausted and spent, her muscles still shaking.
He stared down at her, his face an impenetrable mask as he held her. She was too exhausted to hold herself up, and she sagged against him, trying to catch her breath.
"Good?" he asked.
"Good?" She almost laughed, until she saw the furrow to his brow, making her realize that he was genuinely asking. "Yes. Incredible. Best ever."
It was only then that he smiled, a brief flash of humanity in his stoic face as he scooped her up, his hand tunneling through her hair as he cradled her against his chest. He kissed her again, not a kiss intended to start her up again. More of a claiming kiss, one designed to take the credit for her exhausted state.
She rested her head against his shoulder, unable to hold it up on her own. She'd never been stripped so bare in her life, but she was too drained to care. She slid out of his arms as he set her on the couch, barely holding herself up long enough to collapse on the cushion.
He crouched beside her, watching her as she rolled onto her side to face him. His forehead was etched with concern. "It was too much for you," he said.
"At the time I had no complaints." She was trembling now, unable to stay warm. Her skin felt too cold, and her muscles were too shaky to hold herself up. She closed her eyes. "I don't feel well now, though."
"I drained you." He swore under his breath, and immediately shed his trench coat. He draped it over her, tucking it around her. It was warm from his body heat, and it smelled of him, a faint scent of woods and man, and something darker and more dangerous. "I've never kissed for pleasure," he said. "Not like that. I should have realized that this could happen. My kisses are meant to take life, not give it."
She managed to open her eyes at the edge in his voice. His face was grim, and the self-recrimination was etched in the lines on his face. "You've never kissed for pleasure? Ever?"
He shook his head. "I've kissed to kill. I've fucked to satisfy the base urges of being a male. But I've never kissed simply for pleasure."
"How was it?"
He shook his head, refusing to accept pleasure for himself in the wake of her state. "I hurt you. Unacceptable."
She hugged the coat closer to her. "You're an assassin. How can it bother you that your kiss took a lot out of me?"
"I kill only those I intend to kill. No one else gets hurt. Ever." His jaw flexed. He stood up and strode across the barren
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