Desired by Shadow (A Shadow Walkers Novel) (22 page)

Catching her reflection in the mirror, she gasped. Who was this woman? The person looking back was sexy, like she’d been made love to, long and hard, all night long. Eyes sleepy, skin flushed, every pore tingling, she turned away, shaking her head. Dressing in a beautiful emerald silk nightgown, she let the truth surface.
Face it, you want him
. Like a sleepwalker, she moved to the door, watching from above her body, she dimly noted her hand reaching for the latch, raising it, pulling the heavy door open.

Standing at a crossroads.

Across the hall, shadow blocked the dim light coming from under his door. The corridor was silent. The door opened. He stood, silhouetted in the glow, every inch the pirate. Come to plunder, take what he wanted, consequences be damned. The snowy white linen shirt was open to his waist, showing off tanned skin stretched over a chiseled body. From where she stood his eyes were black as night, the very definition of sin. Slamming back into her body, she hastily backed away…to the safety of her room, shutting the door with a soft click. What was she thinking? This would end badly. No matter how kind, he was a playboy who could have anybody he wanted. Why on this earth would he want a plain Jane like her?

Gareth must have brought wine while she was bathing. Pouring a glass of the golden liquid. She took a long swallow, a few drops running down her chin and neck.

Kicking the wall next to the fireplace, Robert paced the room as a caged animal in a zoo. The dratted woman made his blood boil. He’d never worked this hard to bed a female in his entire existence. Stopping, he nearly stumbled over his own feet. Bloody hell, she wasn’t ‘one of his women’, she was different. Enchanting yet innocent. Hard as steel and vulnerable. The mass of contradictions named Maggie was so far under his skin he swore she’d become a part of him. Finely attuned to her every movement, he’d lost control when she mentioned that idiot Ned. Raking his hands through his hair, he cursed, reaching for a glass. Scowling at the crystal, he set it down, hefted the bottle and drank deeply. Fire burned down the back of his throat into his gut—still he saw her face. Saw her standing there, fingertips pressed to her delectable swollen lips. It seemed like hours had passed as he walked in circles, staring into the fire and drinking more whisky to obliterate thoughts of her. None of it was working. Damn it to hell.

Stalking to the door, he wrenched it open so hard, the hinges groaned with the assault. He had to have her, Ned be damned. He would stamp his scent all over her, mark her inside and out so all would know—she was his. Not even pausing at the barrier in front of him, Robert took two steps back, lifted his booted foot and kicked the bloody door open with a satisfying bang.

“Bloody door was stuck.”

In the center of the room stood an angel or mercy or a siren beckoning him to crash on the rocks, he didn’t know and didn’t care. The emerald silk flowed across her body, her nipples standing out, two hard points. The flimsy straps begging to be torn to shreds. He crossed the room so fast, for a brief moment he wondered if he was wrong about everything and he’d dematerialized there, had his powers back. The thought was unsettling. To test the idea, he tried to manifest the whisky bottle. No luck. Damn the gods, it was true. Pushing the bothersome thoughts aside, he swept her into his arms and savaged her mouth in a bruising kiss. A growl percolated out of his throat. She tasted of wine. Running his tongue down the corner of her lip, down her pale neck, he tasted more. A few drops must have spilled. What he wouldn’t give to be that wine trailing his way down her body.

Her throat convulsed as she swallowed, and he nipped at her neck. Slowly, he slid her down the length of his body. His cock, hard and ready, screaming
take her
while his mind told him to take his time. About to stop, to ask her if she wanted this, he froze as her arms entwined around his neck pulling him closer. Lush breasts pressed against his chest, the silk sliding like water over rock. The pirate within bellowed in triumph. She wanted him, not Ned. Him.

“I…um…I’ve not been with anyone in a long time.” Her green eyes beseeched him. Desire roared through him; he was important to her, a first of sorts.

“Maggie. I don’t care. Can’t you see how much I want you? How lovely you are?” He guided her hand to his raging cock. It strained up to meet her, seeming to try and breach the barrier of his pants to get to her soft, warm hands. Her mouth parted in an “O” shape while a faint blush crept up her chest, to her neck, and cheeks. “By the gods, you’re so beautiful. You steal the very breath from my body.” He cut off her protest with a scorching kiss. The daft woman had no clue what he thought of her. Well, he’d show her what it was to be desired by shadow.

Reaching around her, he gripped the front of her gown and shredded it, baring her to him. “You smell like a summer’s day.” She wiggled, bringing hands up to cover her alabaster skin.

“It’s the bubble bath.”

His voice came out in a guttural grunt. “No, it’s you methinks. Now, let me take my fill.” Dropping her hands, standing there trembling before him, her hair caught the light and turned the color of rubies, cascading over one breast. Trailing kisses down her neck to her shoulder. Her eyes were dilated, wild as he leaned down flicking his tongue over her breast, lapping the underside before capturing the nipple with a light scrape of his teeth. A tiny whimper escaped from her lips as her hands stroked his bare chest. She pushed his shirt off, and he shrugged out of it, reveling in the sensation of her silky palms caressing him. Like butterflies, her fingers fluttered around the waistband of his pants. He rumbled low in this throat, wordlessly urging her on. The button popped open, she unzipped him, his erection springing free, bobbing towards her hand, seeking what he needed.

With a sharp intake of breath, she palmed his cock, running her fingers over the head, feeling the moisture on the tip. Not another second. Bending down, Robert kicked off his boots, shrugged off his pants and in one fluid motion lifted her up in his arms. He kissed her knees, small kisses on her thighs, her belly, her breasts, before reaching that mouth that tasted of honey and wine. She tasted of a warm summer day. Effortlessly holding her, he took one last torturous step, tossing her on the bed, looming over her.

Wrapping his hand around her foot, he felt the waves of tension rolling off her body. “Relax for me darlin’. Close your eyes and enjoy the sensations.” He sensed the war within as she debated whether or not to comply. Curiosity won out, and she squeezed her lids shut tight.

Her feet were worn, calluses on her heels and toes. Swearing, he vowed to destroy any responsible for her hard life. Kneeling he leaned forward, kissing the arch of her foot. She arched up off the bed.

“What the hell?! You’re on your knees. You can’t do that!”

“Why ever not sweetheart?” Pausing, he stood up, went to the table by the fire and poured them both a glass of wine. Well, one glass. The other one was lying under a chair on the floor where she’d dropped it when he surprised her. Shrugging, he brought the bottle over. “Drink, ‘twill relax you, Maggie darlin’.” Handing her the glass, she drained half the glass, motioning him to refill it. Chuckling, he complied. “Might want another sip as I plan to start with your delectable toes and kiss my way up your entire body.”

A gasp filled the room. She leaned up on her elbows looking at him. Smirking, he drank deeply from the bottle of wine before kneeling at the end of the bed. His Maggie needed to realize how desirable he found her. Feathering kisses across the sole of her foot, he nipped her heel. Working his way up, he used his hands to massage her feet while his mouth ministered to her. Taking her little toe into his mouth, he sucked, pulling, kneading the insole. A purr from deep within her bubbled up. He paid homage to each toe, sucking, licking, feeling each suck deep in his balls. Willing his body to slow down, he licked her ankle. Continuing to stroke her calf muscle he licked and kissed his way along her body, lifting her leg and licking the back of her knee. Reaching down, he took another pull of the wine and ministered to her other foot. Caressing and sucking, he moved up to her thigh. The muscles flexed under his touch, her breathing heavy, she was gripping the coverlet, holding on for dear life. “Maggie, my sweet, feel my tongue against your velvet flesh, let go.”

“It’s, well, no one has
ever
sucked on my toes.” Her voice rose in pitch.

“A tragedy of epic proportions. I shall endeavor to make up for all the years you’ve been mistreated.” His fingers kept drawing circles on her thighs, stroking. She might say she was nervous but her body betrayed her. He could scent her arousal and shifted to ease the ache in his groin. Bloody hell, it was easier to control his body when he had his powers. Well, never let it be said he didn’t have an iron will, he’d hold out, giving her pleasure before taking his.

Bending his head to his task, he was gratified to hear her whimper as the cold wine from his mouth dribbled down her thigh. Growling in the back of his throat, he licked the droplets from her skin, blowing across her flesh, raising goosebumps. Licking the crease where thigh met hip, she clapped her thighs together.

“Wha…what are you doing?”

“Shh, love.” Gently he pulled her thighs apart, watching her unfold as a flower to the sun. Sliding his hands under her ass, he squeezed. Groaning, he wanted to flip her over and nibble each delectable half but not yet. Patience. He kissed her hipbones and then went straight for her core. He licked her, flicking his tongue over her bud. Maggie keened deep in her throat. Smiling, he slid one finger in, feeling her tighten around him. He sped up the motion, back and forth as she moaned. Latching onto her, he sucked, rhythmically, inserting a second finger, thrusting as she thrashed, her body arching off the bed. Replacing his fingers with his tongue, he licked and sucked as her hips pumping in time to his motions. Clenching her thighs tight around his head, her back arched, she came hard. He lapped every drop. Crawling up between her legs, he continued to lick and kiss her stomach. They fit together perfectly. His cock was poised to enter her but still he waited. She’d never been properly loved and he’d be damned before he left her wanting. They had all night to explore each other.

Her hands stilled him. “I want to feel you.” She reached down and wrapped her hand around him.

“Ah darlin’, your hands are like silk.” After a few minutes, he moved upward. If he didn’t, he’d take her now, going slow be damned. Her breasts were the perfect size for his hand. He cupped each one, rolling the nipple between his fingers, kneading and stroking. Taking the puckered nipple in his mouth, he sucked. She was panting, her stomach and chest heaving. He licked the underside of each breast and moved to her shoulder. On her right shoulder she had a smattering of freckles. “Did you know your freckles right here look like a smiley face?”

“I never noticed.”

He traced each one with a fingertip. Then kissed the same spot. Kissing his way down her arm he worshipped each finger, slowing inserting it into his mouth, sucking and kissing. Kneading her palm, he moved to the other hand and arm, repeating his attentions. As he nipped and sucked the soft underside, he lifted her arm above her head and licked her armpit. She jumped.

“You can’t do that, what if I hadn’t had a bath?”

Arching an eyebrow, he answered, “I suspect you would taste even more delicious with your natural scent.” He chuckled. She had nothing to say to that. He’d bet bloody Ned had never noticed her freckles or licked under her arm. Bloody wanker.

Wanting to mark her, he reached down between them, flicking his thumb across her nub. Faster, faster, until she was arching off the bed. Gripping his arms, she cried out, “Please, don’t stop.”

With a very satisfied male rumble, he increased the pressure and inserted two fingers, pumping in an out, feeling the tension build inside her. Clenching around his fingers, she dug her nails into his biceps and shuddered, her entire body vibrating with her release.

Positioning himself over her core, he plunged in, filling her as she thrashed and shook her head side to side.

Deeper and deeper he thrust, supporting himself on his forearms, kissing her, thrusting his tongue in her mouth in time with his cock. Feathering kisses and nips across her breasts, she moaned, “Robert, please.” Not knowing what she asked. He bit her shoulder and ground into her, hips pumping, he bellowed, taking them both crashing over the edge.

His woman, now well satisfied, let out a purr. Inside he sat up and preened. He rolled her on top of him, keeping them joined, her head coming to rest on his chest. Not wanting to move her, he reached down for the wine bottle offering her a sip.

“Tastes wonderful.”

He chuckled low in his throat. “Is milady pleased?”

That fetching blush spread across her bare skin. “You’re…well, that was… amazing.” Green eyes gazed into his. Trailing a finger over her chin and shoulder, he traced lazy circles around her breast and stomach.

The fire needed to be stoked. He didn’t want to get up yet. Looking at her, she had her eyes closed, seemingly to doze. Guilt set in. Fuck it all. Why hadn’t he told her? Yes, Colin and Emily broke the curse, were happy together but—what would it mean for him? Thorne had made a comment in passing that it was different for each of them. Seemed like a load of bollocks to him but hell. He blew out a harsh sigh.

His life was perfect. Fighting, being nearly invincible, living forever, what could be better? Sure, he didn’t have his own Emily, and maybe, just maybe, he wanted to be with Maggie. Though she was a human, would age and die. Was it better to have her for a short time or let her go? The thought of not having her near—losing her, made his insides clench. Hand trembling, he drained the rest of the wine. Raking his hands through his hair, he gently disengaged from Maggie, slid out from under her and built up the fire for the night. Opening the door, he padded down to the kitchens. Fixing her a plate of her beloved fruit, he poured a pitcher of water and brought it back upstairs.