01 Do You Believe in Magic - The Children of Merlin (32 page)

But it still wasn’t enough.
Holding her in his arms didn’t satisfy so much as pour gasoline on
the fire of his desire for her. All of her. That’s what he needed.
Then...
then
he’d be whole.

They stopped and stood, locked
in each other’s arms. Her green eyes were burning. The music
swirled around them. Other couples were dancing now.
Okay.
That’s good for camouflage.
Less likely his parents would miss
them.

“Let’s go,” she whispered,
taking him by surprise.

He nodded convulsively and led
her through the French doors. He refused to look back to see if
anyone saw them go. What would he do if they did? Take her back out
to the terrace? Not likely. They made their way through the living
room filled with guests. Some looked like they might greet Tris,
but then they blinked and let them pass. Good. That way he didn’t
have to just push them out of the way. They hurried upstairs away
from the party.

Tris pushed open the library
door, revealing a group of revelers clustered round the fragment of
manuscript passed down to his father across the ages, now mounted
under glass.

“Is that vellum?” an older woman
was asking. “I can’t quite make out the writing.”

Right. Which is why it could be
displayed. His family believed the manuscript prophesied the
gathering of Merlin’s magic. Easy to say if no one could read it.
Should he just throw them all out? He didn’t have time for an
argument. His mother wouldn’t like it if he used his fists to
convince them. He pushed on down the hall. “Your room,” he
whispered.

Maggie nodded and trotted behind
him. He pushed through the door to the darkened guest room Maggie
and pulled her in after him. He didn’t have to drag her into his
arms. She was already there. Her hands moved up under his jacket
and over the muscles in his back as her face turned up to his. He
bent to her mouth while he fumbled with the lock on the door behind
her.

When it snicked into place, she
lost all control. Her mouth demanded, her tongue snaking into his
and licking there as she pulled him down with both arms around his
neck. He lifted her easily with one arm and carried her to the bed,
never breaking the kiss that was searing a brand into his brain and
flicking electric charges over his body like a divine whip. Tris
was having trouble putting two thoughts together, and Maggie seemed
single-minded.

Apparently, she wanted his
clothes off. She pulled at the ends of his tie.

He was happy to oblige. He
shrugged out of his jacket. Then apparently she was too impatient
to manage the studs. She just pulled the shirt apart. The sound of
tearing fabric fueled the flames between them. He pulled his shirt
off. She made short work of his belt buckle.

“Turnabout is fair play,” he
whispered and slid her zipper down the back of her dress. She
shrugged out of it. It pooled in frothy waves on the floor. She
kicked her shoes off. That left her in her panties: plain,
Maggie-style panties. She wouldn’t be needing those. He must have
pulled harder than he thought, because they ripped. “Sorry,” he
murmured.

“I don’t care,” she whispered
and kicked them off. She had eyes only for his swollen groin. The
button on his fly popped as she worked at it, and she pulled the
tux trousers down over the brace. She stood back and grinned as she
took in the sight of his erection. He was so hard it was almost
painful, bobbing with need.

“Maggie,” he whispered, his
voice raw. She was a sight, just as taut and slim and soft and
perfect as he’d remembered from the night before.

“You denied me last night what I
wanted most,” she accused. “You won’t tonight.”

He’d do it however she wanted,
as long as she wanted it
now
. “Your call.”

She grinned again and put both
hands on his chest. She pushed him over onto the bed. He couldn’t
help but smile. He hoped she’d ride him like one of her bulls.
“Condom in the pants pocket,” he managed.

She tossed his trousers over her
shoulder. “No need.”

He pulled at the Velcro on the
damn cast. He wasn’t letting anything between them. He saw her eyes
widen and put a hand over her mouth. “It’s okay. I swear.”

She took a breath and nodded,
then leaned over the high bed and pushed his knees farther apart.
God, was she going to...?

She was. She took his length in
her one hand and cupped his balls in the other. “You’re going to
kill me,” he said hoarsely.

She licked up his shaft from
bottom to top. He couldn’t help but shudder. “Mmmm,” she murmured.
“A little salty.” Her tongue flicked over the tip and the bead of
clear fluid there. She swabbed it around the head of his cock with
her tongue, producing a groan he couldn’t suppress. The feel of her
breasts against his thighs only made things worse. Or better. He
wrapped his fingers into her hair.

Then she began in earnest.

*****

Maggie was so wet between her
legs she was probably dripping on the bedspread. At some time or
other in her life she would have cared about that. But now, all she
cared about was the lovely sounds of pleasure she could evoke from
Tris as she worked over him with her mouth and her hands. This
wasn’t so hard. It was just like romance books. Well, the racier
ones. Flick across the tender underside. Suck his big shaft as far
inside her mouth as she could. Work the base by holding it firmly
and going up and down in unison with her mouth or even
counterpoint. She could do this forever. She was driving him wild.
His hips bucked uncontrollably. His breathing was a series of
uneven gasps. When he wasn’t growling against his will.

And then she couldn’t do it
forever. Because he couldn’t. He was obviously getting close to
climax. And she wanted the other experience she’d been denied last
night. She wanted to feel him fill her. It was a call so urgent she
couldn’t refuse it a second longer. She raised herself, leaving him
fighting for breath, and crawled up onto the bed. She settled her
knees on either side of him.

“Condom,” he gasped. “Pants
pocket.”

She couldn’t imagine waiting to
paw through his pockets and tear open the packet and roll it down
over his penis. “No time.”

She took him in hand as she
scooted up over his hips. Tilting his cock, she eased herself onto
it. They both breathed out slowly as the satisfaction of filling
and being filled overwhelmed them both. This was what she needed.
She settled herself. Tris breathed in, just at the moment she did.
He was very still as she took a moment to adjust to his width and
length. There. She fit him. She rocked a little, forward and back,
and managed to get him even deeper inside her. Their loins were
pressed together, as she felt a shudder go through him.

He wasn’t actually coming yet.
But he seemed as overwhelmed as she was. She put her hands on his
chest and moved off of him, then slid back down. He reached for her
breasts, kneading them as she backed off and settled down again. He
gave a low growl. She tried rocking forward and down, back and up,
just like cantering a horse. Yeah. That was it. His pubic bone
rubbed her clit every time she rocked. So she rocked faster. Her
nipples in his palms were showering her with feeling. She’d never
felt anything like it. The surges of sensation between her breasts
and her clitoris and her vagina stuffed full of Tris’s cock were
like some lost Devil’s Triangle, where she would hang forever in
waves of pleasure so intense it was almost pain. Tris’s eyes
squeezed shut. He was trying to suppress his orgasm.

“Don’t you dare hold out on me,
Tristram Tremaine,” she gasped. And then she couldn’t say anything,
because the Devil’s Triangle made thought impossible. She was
grunting or something and she didn’t care. She rode him harder.

The typhoon tore across the
Devil’s Triangle and sent her crashing through wind and noise and
enough electrical surges to short all her circuits. But even
through the mother of all orgasms, she could feel that big cock
begin to spurt inside her, which brought another round of wind and
noise, until she dropped forward onto Tris’s chest, exhausted. The
silence that ensued made her realize that she might have shrieked.
Tris had definitely yelled.

He wrapped his big arms around
her and clutched her to his heaving chest. They were both slick
with sweat. He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her
head. Sometime in there her hair had come down.

“That’s what I wanted,” she
murmured, half-asleep.

“Me too,” he said. Then she felt
him tense. “We should have used a condom.”

“My fault. I just couldn’t wait.
I think it’ll be okay....”

“Next time, for sure,” he
murmured.

She smiled against his chest. “Maybe
tonight, if you’re up to it.”

*****

Kemble stared up at the window
from which a shriek and a yell had just issued. Startled guests
were looking around to see where the fire was. Kemble turned to his
father who was looking as nonplussed as everyone else until he met
his wife’s smile and sighed in resignation. But somebody had to say
something. Kemble glanced around. Good. Lanyon was nowhere in
evidence. He’d be a perfect scapegoat.

“I’ll take care of it,” he
announced to the group immediately surrounding him. “I suspect my
youngest brother is up to his practical jokes. I only hope it
doesn’t involve actual reptiles.” He strode into the house, making
reassurances to the guests along the way.

Well, this had been inevitable
from the first minute Tris saw Maggie come out of the house in that
purple dress. What had Jane been thinking to dress her so
attractively? Tris didn’t have a chance. Or perhaps Maggie didn’t
have a chance. But wasn’t that what was supposed to happen here?
Tris and Maggie were meant to be one, and they were busy getting on
with it.

He ran up the stairs. The noise
had come from her room. He tapped lightly on the door.

Silence.

“I know you two are in there.
And so does the whole party.”

He heard a murmured “Uh-oh” from
Maggie.

“It’s none of their damn
business.” Tris was belligerent. Predictable.

“True. But could you close the
window so as not to frighten the more sensitive guests?”

“Oh,” Maggie gasped.

The window slammed on the
casement. “Happy?”

“Very.” But he wasn’t. Kemble
turned away. Fools. Couldn’t they be more discreet?

Maybe not.

Lucky devils.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Tris had gone off to find
leftovers. The man had a hollow leg. The house had been quiet for
the past few hours. Maggie glanced at the clock. Four a.m. What
they did tonight felt more right than she could say. It was
magical. But it didn’t really change anything. Tris was still Tris.
He had been drawn to Cinderella, made by a fairy godmother called
Jane to look as though she belonged at the ball. And for a minute
there she’d let herself think it might go on longer than just
tonight. But her time was running out. He’d be back on the starlet
circuit as soon as he returned to his shop. Or he’d be out on the
road again. He wasn’t a “stay” kind of man. Even his family
acknowledged that. She imagined him kindly setting her up with
someone he knew. Tris was kind, she was sure of that. Or starting
to “work late,” because he didn’t want to tell her that she’d
become inconvenient and boring. How could she not be boring when
compared to the people he knew, the kind of life he’d led?

Suddenly, she could feel Tris
moving around in the kitchen. No. Really
feel
him moving.
Like some giant rubber band was pulling taut between them. He was
opening the refrigerator, bending over, walking to the big butcher
block island. She sat straight up in bed.

What the hell is that?

This was
not
normal. She
shook her head, as if she could make the feeling go away. But it
didn’t. Tris was going over to the dish cupboards. Now back to the
butcher block island.

Her heart began to pound. What
was happening to her? First she did... something... out at the camp
today, and now she could feel Tris like she was physically
connected to him.
So
not normal. And come to think of it,
the sex wasn’t what you’d call normal either. Normal sex was the
kind she’d had with Phil the Rat. You did it. You had orgasms. But
not orgasms like she’d had tonight. And she was pretty sure Tris
had one just as earth-shattering as hers. “Rock your world” kind of
orgasms only happened in books. Anyone who told you they’d had some
life-altering experience in bed was lying to make themselves seem
more important than they were.

Something niggled at her brain.
Something wrong.

Like everything hadn’t been
wrong today.

She sat up with a jerk.
Oh,
my God.

Tris had taken off his Velcro
cast tonight and never put it back on. He’d walked out of the room
without limping. Not even a little bit. And come to think of it,
he’d lifted her up just like he didn’t have a broken collarbone and
pinned ligaments in his shoulder. And... and where were the awful
bruises? Not green and yellow even, but gone. She’d been so
preoccupied with his cock, she hadn’t even noticed that he
was....

Good as new. After he was
almost dead a week ago.
Last night he was just out of the
hospital, and he’d been having sex. Wouldn’t he still be laid up,
like he was at Elroy’s?

She gasped. Somebody or
something had healed him. Under this
Leave it to Beaver
household perfection, there lurked a strangeness that might be...
evil. Tris felt
too
right. And the fact that she could feel
him, even now, down in the kitchen, meant she was being sucked into
it.

Yes! That’s why that horrible
thing happened out at the children’s camp. Her connection to
animals was perfectly normal, usually. This household was affecting
her as well. Tris was affecting her. When had she ever jumped a
guy’s bones like she did tonight? She just didn’t
do
things
like that. She was Maggie, tough as nails. She’d fended off cowboys
and promoters who thought she was more of a buckle bunny than a
competitor, tourists in the diner looking for a one-night stand—and
here she’d just caved the minute Tris Tremaine, starlet screwer and
“leave when he wanted” kind of guy, crooked his finger and got a
flattering erection. The last time she’d caved was with Phil the
Rat, and look how that had turned out.