Dane (12 page)

She yielded to the hard thigh that moved higher between hers. Her restless hands stroked up his back and down again and lower, shaping his rear. He was warm, masculine. Thrilling. Almost the same as the replica she‟d created last night, and yet so wonderfully, vibrantly different. So real.

His hand found the opening in her pantalets. Hard knuckles brushed her soft, downy pelt, then turned, palming her. She gasped into his shirt and gripped the bunched muscles of his arms, scarcely daring to breathe as her entire concentration focused on his touch.

The air around them went abnormally still as two fingers pressed the length of her nether lips. They forked, spreading her for the long finger that pushed at her opening and then slipped inside her. She was still tender due to last night‟s occupation in her boudoir, and this wonderfully amplified the effect of his intrusion.

“What have we here?” he chided gently. His words were dark, his voice graveled with need. “You‟re wet for me, little slut.”

But his words only made her wetter, made her flesh hum with pleasure. Her stockinged calf rose along the back of his thigh, and she opened herself, inviting him to do as he would with her, entrusting herself to his care. Two fingers drove deep, stroking once, twice, again, drawing moisture from her and pulling it upward to paint her clit with her own honey.

“Chers Dieux! S‟il vous plat,” she begged.

“Yes, we want to please you.”

We? What did he mean? There was only him here with her. Him rubbing and pressing her sensitive nub. Him sawing fingers in her slickness. Him finding just.. the.. right. . mmm... spot. Gods, were his fingers bespelled? It was certain that no Shimmerskin had ever made her feel like this! Her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt and she turned her lips to the hollow of his throat, tasting him.

“Yes, I think maybe you like this,” he murmured. “Especially on certain nights when the moon is full.”

It took her a moment to understand his meaning, but then she blinked up at him in confusion. Even this close, his eyes were like mirrors, revealing little.

“You know,” she whispered in shock.

“Yes, Evangeline. I know.” He spoke now in that different, even darker voice. And for the moment his aura turned to pure spun gold with nary a hint of silver. “I know what you are, though I‟ve made him forget.”

It wasn‟t exactly an explanation. But his fingers kept working her, gliding back and forth in a heady, erotic rhythm.

“Your blood is our secret for now,” he told her. “Our secret... ”And then his aura shifted again, silver slowly mixing with the gold.

Her mind swam in confusion. “If you‟ve known about my origins since you arrived here today, why did you pretend otherwise?”

“Pretend?”The inflection in his voice suddenly had a different flavor. He sounded as if he had no idea what her question meant or why she‟d asked it. It was as if—as if a different man now spoke to her.

Mmm…. What were those talented fingers of his doing now? She struggled to focus on their conversation. It was important, wasn‟t it?

Hot lips nuzzled the sensitive place behind her ear. “Why were you on my land last night, Eva?” He was all silver again, smooth. The interrogator now—autocratic and demanding.

His touch made her want to admit everything, but she bit back the truth, giving him only part of it. “For the olives. I have a map.” She was riding his hand now, her breath fluttering from her in soft moans.

“In your little book.”

“Mmm. Before her death, my mother drew it. Of the olives on your land. I trespassed only to have some.”

“And why not just tell me this when I chanced upon you in my grove?”

“Because you were in a state much like this one and in no mood to listen.”

Oh! A new sort of tremor shivered up her channel. If he kept this up, she was going to come under his stroke, during his questions. But he‟d felt her reaction and his fingers left her.

Her eyes flew open. “But—“

“There, you see what I can do with just a fingertip?” he murmured.

“Imagine what I can make you feel with this.” Cupping the back of her hand in his, he helped her to palm the contours of the treasure that lay hidden within the crotch of his trousers. He was arrogant, confident in his masculinity and his attractions, full of himself. It was exactly what she wanted in a lover.

The knowledge that he would not require instruction from her and would not obey her every whim was incredibly exciting. She didn‟t know what would happen next, or how all would unfold between them. He was in control—her guide in this new sensual wilderness—and it would thrill her to bend to his Will.

“Come inside me,” she pleaded, her voice an urgent, hopeful prayer.

Although she couldn‟t read her own aura even in a mirror, those of others were easily deciphered. He reacted strongly to her plea and enfolded her like great, beautiful wings of silver and gold light. His booted foot slammed flat on the low window seat to one side, and he pulled her thigh so it rode his; then he took her other thigh over his opposite forearm, his hand cupping her rear.

She sucked in her belly on a harsh intake of air as his other hand rammed between them, tearing open the fastenings of his trousers. He took his naked length and plowed its hot, velvet head along her damp furrow. Nestled it at the open, petaled rose of her that blushed and trembled for want of him.

He knew exactly what she wanted and was going to give it to her.

She cried out softly as his smooth heat parted her glossy lips. His plum was a smooth purpled fist, pressing her wider, making her gasp for him.

She spread for it. Panted for it.

She moaned and arched her back as it slipped inside her. Her nether lips held it dear, hugging its plinth, and then commenced to provide the length of rod that followed it with one long, slick, tight kiss. His gaze burned over her with fierce concentration, watching her face as she took him.

He was thick and never ending, stretching and filling her with unforgiving, wondrous steel. And all the while he pushed into her, he murmured dark encouragements in a mix of Italian and Else languages, promising there would be pleasure, telling her how much her body‟s hot welcome was pleasing him. How much he wanted to fuck her. How hard.

How deep. His words were raw, their brush over her skin erotic. Oh! It was all so perfectly glorious she wanted to weep, wanted to slow everything down, and at the same time to make it happen more quickly.

Her head fell back on a shuddering moan. The scent of lemons reached her. A citrus garden was just below and workers were busy there.

Would someone see? Would they watch as he drove onward, deeper and hotter.. and deeper still?

“Look at me,” he demanded, and she did. Their eyes clung as he plumbed the depths of her hot, wet heart. She smiled at him, her eyes misting with a delirious, poignant, carnal joy.

Dane grappled with the soul-altering phenomenon of finding himself buried to the hilt inside a woman for the first time in his life.

Inside this woman. With all the others—and there had been many—

Dante had always done this deed for him.

“Yes,” she moaned softly. The sexy contrast of her hot, welcoming cunt and her sweet, prim voice drove him wild. His boot left the window seat and hit the floor, his legs braced between hers. His big hands wrapped around her bottom, holding her so she moved only as he chose to allow. He fucked her intently, in a hard, rolling motion, clenching his ass as he bucked into her.

The dark sex words he whispered to her weren‟t all his and his actions weren‟t all under his control, but for the first time in his life, he was completely and gloriously aware during the sexual act. His concentration was all for her, and he noted her every reaction, her every gasp and murmur, the sensation of her moving on him, determined to miss nothing. And Dante was right there with him, an equal partner, reveling in the fucking, in the kaleidoscope of emotions that charged through their shared body.

In and out in long glides, he hunted his pleasure in her with primitive strength. Plunging, grinding her, rubbing her clit against him just to hear her mewling whimpers. To hear her beg him for more.

Passionate half-formed words fell from his lips and hers, and mingled on the air. Damp tendrils of raven hair curled at her temples. Bodies rose and fell as one. His hand at her nape. His lips at her white breast, along her throat, on her red mouth. Her sweet mouth, whispering to him, encouraging him.

And through it all, he could feel. Could feel her slit give for his crest, feel his repeated invasions dilate her. Feel her tight, sultry embrace along every single nerve ending that corded his length. Could hear her quick intakes of breath. Smell her need. And his own.

The rhythmic slap of their hot flesh was raw and erotic. She was a siren, beckoning him with her slick promise of gratification. He felt powerful, in control. After a lifetime of sublimating his desires, it was a tantalizing thrill greater than any he‟d ever known.

Hot sparks of lust pricked him as he and Dante had their way with her. Her flesh yielded to him, her slit licked at him, her breasts shuddered, and she rose to her toes under his every slam. Books jostled on the shelf behind her. Something crashed to the floor and splintered around his boots. It was heaven. He wanted it to go on and on. Wanted to carry her off with him to one of the mating caves in ElseWorld where copulation might go on to the exclusion of all else for weeks at a time. Where law forbade interruption. Where they could remain until he‟d gotten his fill. A hundred years from now. A thousand. More.

“Oh, Gods, yes!” she moaned. Her back arched and her hands gripped the edges of the shelf on either side of her hips, her knuckles turning white. Her ankles linked at his back.

His balls drew up into tight fists. His cock trembled with the need to ejaculate. Then he groaned and slammed into her as far and high as it was possible for a man to go. His body pinned hers to the wall. Her wet, feminine heat coddled him deep, so fucking deep. They hung there for a taut instant of time, hovering on a precipice, shivering with the need to finish. Her lips parted and her head fell back. His thighs and body held hers wide. Owned her.

“Going to come,” he bit out.

As if in response, her nether throat milked at him, gently, once. A second time, harder. She inhaled sharply and lifted her chin, her eyes shut tight.

Then came an earthquake of sensation rushing through his cock.

Ropy, streaming spurts of cum shot from him in hot, violent shudders, marking her forever as his. He felt her orgasm break over him the same instant he went off, and heard her smothered cry.

It was spectacular, a shock to his system. Never had he experienced his own coming. Until now. With her. It was fucking amazing. To think that he‟d been denied this prurient joy for so long!

They arched together and bowed as their coming swelled and receded. Her flesh sucked at him, drained him, and he gladly filled her, again and again and again, and he prayed to his Gods that it would never, ever end.

Eventually, eventually, his heart slowed, and hers. He remained between her legs, his cock still buried in her, his cum still pumping desultorily inside her at intervals with the aftershocks of his coming.

They were both slippery now with his leavings and her juices, and a light sheen of sweat cooled his spine.

They sagged together, drained, replete. It had gone on forever but had still been too quick for him. He would have her again after this, in just a moment, he promised himself.

She‟s good. Soft. Ours, Dante whispered from somewhere within him. Imagine how it will be when we fuck her next Moonful.

It would kill him, Dane was sure of it, but he would gladly die to have her under the full moon. To join himself to her body in the way of the Calling, with two cocks instead of one, until she was so full of him she would know herself to be truly and irrevocably his.

Dante‟s presence ebbed then and he was gone. There were only two of them now. Eva and Dane. Woman and man. Lovers.

A breath of satisfaction shuddered from her lips. “I‟m not sure we got that quite right,” she said.

His head lifted and their eyes caught.

She was smiling at him, shy and sweet. “I think we may have to try again, just to be sure. How long will my family continue to forget us?”

“As long as I Will it.”

Her smile deepened and she sighed, a blissful sound. Idly, her hand smoothed his hair, his nape. His eyes went to her bodice and he lowered his head, kissing the curve of her breast.

This time there had been no jarring awakening after lovemaking.

He could recall everything that had happened with her. Knew precisely where he was—still joined to her, loath to part. He would remember the miraculous joy of this time with her for the rest of his days. He felt good, happy, in a way he could never recall having felt before.

“What the devil are you wearing anyway?” he teased, his mouth still attentive at her breast. Him, teasing? He‟d never teased anyone in his life!

Her smile flashed again, wry now. “The gown? Mimi and Lena selected it. Beautiful, is it not?” They shared a moment of humor as he finally realized why she was dressed in such a manner.

“You‟re a rare woman. I don‟t know of another who‟d wear such a beautiful outfit just to appease her children.” He kissed her smile.

What are you doing?

His head jerked back as the unknown masculine voice shrieked inside him. It was appalled, frightened. Unfamiliar. New.