Jude; The Fallen (The Fallen Series, Book 2) (10 page)

He turned the knob and walked in slowly, half-expecting a projectile to come sailing through the air. She stood at the far end of her office, looking out of the glass panes of the French doors, arms crossed over her chest in a protective gesture.

“Did he leave?” Her voice wavered.

“Out the front door. But not for good, I don’t think.”

“Good. He’s got some things he needs to rethink before he darkens my door again.”

“And what about you? Are you blameless in whatever’s going on between the two of you?”

She whirled around to face him, fire blazing in her eyes. “There’s nothing going on between the two of us. Something neither he nor you can seem to get through your thick skulls. It’s tiring, Jude. So fucking tiring.”

“What about Ash?” he asked, knowing that bringing her up was a powder keg waiting to happen.

“What about her? She stays in Greece with Alex’s parents at a lovely villa in Mykonos, thank you very much, when she can’t be with us. She knows I love her, and she knows he loves her. That’s all that matters. God knows that’s all that matters to me.”

"What do you know about God, Coriander?" Jude snorted. "You're no bastion of piety."

"I don't need to be. Because every time I look into the face of that little girl, I want to fall to my knees to bask in the grace I see in her eyes. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I see it. I feel it. It’s divine. You can’t convince me otherwise. Have a little faith. Remember that everything in this life has a purpose. Whether you realize it or not."

Bitter emotion swallowed the fallen angel.
I wish I could, Coriander. I wish I could.

“You, of all people, are telling me to have faith? Faith in what? Don’t you get it? He’s gone. From me.” Jude beat at his chest. “He’s gone from me. He speaks to Lucius. But not to me.” He snorted, his face twisting into a cruel sneer. “Faith. That’s rich coming from a woman who blunders her way through life with a dog and a bastard. That’s not faith, that’s luck.”

Coriander's face was hard. "You should watch your mouth. I'm somebody's mother, remember?"

No shit. The look on Coriander’s face was a sucker punch to the gut. He'd crossed a line and he knew it the minute the words flew out of his damned mouth. Jude opened his mouth to apologize and actually mean it, when Coriander shoved a finger in his face.

"Just so we're clear, big guy, if I ever hear you shoot your mouth off like that again about my child, I will break you. There won't be enough left for even The Almighty to put to rights. And then I will make sure you spend eternity in my backyard pooper-scooping for the Anubis. Got it?"

“Yeah, I got it,” he said, running a hand over the back of his head. “So what do you and the Anubis get up to in your jaunts across the globe?”

The smile that spread across her face was blinding. “Let me show you.” She walked over to her desk and picked up a small duffel that sat on the floor next to it. She placed it on the desktop and rummaged through the contents. He walked over and peered inside.

It was bigger than it looked, and he could see books and two spiral-bound notebooks, along with some small scroll tubes. He looked back over the desktop and his eyes rested on the little brass business card holder. He wondered why he hadn’t seen it before as he picked up one of the cards. It was a heavy cream cardstock, her name printed in bold block letters.

Coriander Rhodes, Salvage and Reclamation.

He held the card up for her to see. “I thought you were a doctor?”

She snorted as she unpacked the duffel. “I am. I’m a history professor. So’s Alex. That’s how we met, at the University of Athens.”

“What, like Indiana Jones?”

“Not quite,” she frowned. “He’s fictional. And I don’t carry a whip or wear a jaunty hat.”

He flipped the card over in his hands. “But this says-“

“Those aren’t my teaching credentials, Jude. It’s what I do. What we do when we’re not in the classroom. We find things. Ancient places, lost places, relics, religions, civilizations. Life,” she stressed. “People. It’s amazing work.”

He gazed at the card again before turning cold eyes on her. “And then you sell it to the highest bidder.”

Her jaw clenched and her eyebrow went up. “No. I don’t deal on the black market. Alex may dabble, but that’s his gamble. The laws are very clear about that sort of thing, and the prison system over there isn’t the five-star affair like it is here in the States, nor is it worth the massive amount of cash I would have to throw away to steer clear of it. I like hanging onto my hands and my money.”

“But he takes risks,” Jude pressed.

“We both do, to some extent. These things belong to the world. It’s a sacrilege to let them wither away and die under the sand, or in some Saudi prince’s private collection that he nicked without the proper paperwork. Those things, we find. We find, and we get them back. A lot of these antiquities are hidden away on yachts that keep to international waters. That’s Alex’s specialty.”

Jude’s eyes widened as he dropped the card onto the desk with a splutter. “Pirates. You're talking about pirates, aren't you? That's what Alex does in his spare time, right? He's a fucking pirate! That's why you let Ash stay with his parents? Because Long John Silver isn't home long enough to be a father to his little girl?”

She pretended to ignore him, continuing to rifle through her bag.

“Coriander?”

She flinched at his tone and whipped her head up. “Nobody said anything about,” her fingers shot up to make air quotes, “pirates.”

“Then how do you define men with large quantities of firearms on the open sea ambushing unsuspecting vessels?”

She wrinkled her nose. “It's all subjective. Those idiots off the coast of Africa, yeah, they're pirates. But what Alex does, it's...he's,” she paused, frustrated. “It's just different, okay? He knows what he's doing and makes sure no one gets hurt. Pirate is such an ugly word. Try, 'nautical acquisition and redistribution specialist'.” She shook her head and went back to the bag, muttering, “I mean, really, it’s not nearly as nefarious as you make it sound.” She shoved at the bag and jerked her head up to face him, the scowl covering the whole of her face. “And why do you care in the first place?”

“Because it's wrong, Coriander. You can put a pig in a tutu and put it on stage, but it will never be a ballerina,” he frowned.

Her brow lifted in confusion. “What in the hell does that mean? Have you been watching Dr. Phil reruns again?”

He grabbed her arm and yanked her around the edge of the desk, hauling her against the wall of his chest. “It means, no matter how prettily you choose to define it, it is what it is.”

His mouth went dry as the pain in his soul receded, and something low stirred in his groin, burning beautifully as he felt her breath on his face.

“And what is it?” she asked, her lips parting.

His eyes darkened to slits as his mouth slowly descended. A second before they made contact, he whispered, “Wrong.”

Her mouth was soft and wet, and opened like a flower unfurling into the sunlight. Warmth, precious and cradling, enveloped him as he angled his head to plunder the depths of her mouth. Coriander made a small gasping sound as his tongue snaked out to tangle with hers. The breathy noise went straight to his cock, making him hard in an instant. His hands pressed their way up her arms, sliding over skin like silk, to cup the back of her head and hold her in place while his mouth ground over hers.

She sagged against him, winding her arms around his waist for support, and pressed her body to his. His back lit up like Christmas, the tattoo of his wings burning so hot, he swore it would set the fabric of his t-shirt alight. Coriander gave as good as she got, returning the kiss with equal pressure, her tongue demanding in its own right. Her mouth moved with purpose, each sweep of her tongue and slick slide of her lips seeking out the recesses of his mouth, learning every secret spot as she attacked it with fervor.

Desire, thick and rich, shivered out over his skin, coating him in want. It was only a kiss, and yet it was so much more. A harbinger of pleasures to come, the curtain call on this dance they had shared, a promise ready to be fulfilled.

She pulled back, panting against his open mouth. “Upstairs. Now.”

Jude released her and she grabbed his hand, leading him out of the office and through the living room. He had eyes for nothing else except Coriander, his vision trained on the line of her back as she strode in front of him. She pulled him up the stairs in silence to the second floor and down the hall to her bedroom at the end. The instant they were inside, he kicked the door shut and spun her around to pin her against it.

The taste of her hit his tongue and he groaned, rubbing his hands over her body, kneading and squeezing any soft skin he came across. Her head fell back against the door and she moaned; a low sound full of want as he bent to latch on to her neck. She arched into him like an offering, and he murmured his approval against her collarbone.

Her hands came up to catch at his scalp, her short nails digging in with tiny stings. The sensation was thrilling, and he clung to her for more. She allowed him a few more seconds of worship at her neck before her tiny hands pushed him off and spun him to reverse their positions.

She licked her lips and grabbed the waistband of his jeans. There was no warning as Coriander jerked the fly open and pulled the zipper down fast enough that it abraded the underside of his cock. He hissed through gritted teeth at the burn, and looked down just in time to realize that the hand that grasped him tightly had no intention of letting go. Her eyes rolled to meet his briefly before she turned her full attention back to his erection. She gave it a rough squeeze, her hand sliding up the shaft as her pert red tongue licked the tip.

The moan that rumbled from his chest was feral, vibrating across his skin. Leaning in, she teased him as she grazed her teeth across the head, eliciting another hiss from his lips. The waiting was driving him crazy. Finally, he ripped of the tie of her ponytail and tangled his hands in the locks of the soft auburn hair, growling, “Do it.”

As Coriander leaned in to suck on the head of his cock, Jude tightened his grip in her hair, urging her with gentle pressure to take more. Coriander recoiled as she struggled to take it all in. He eased back, letting her relax, but the feel of her mouth around him was too much, and he had to have more. He pulled out so that only the sensitive head was in her mouth before aggressively thrusting the full length back in, using the grip on her hair to hold her in the position he wanted.

She sucked hard as he thrust in, and bit down as he pulled out, her teeth sharply raking his entire length from base to head. Jude hissed, “Yes,” ramming his cock back into the hot, tight depth of her mouth.

She was driving him insane. The pressure of her mouth as she sucked, and her teeth as they bit, were causing only a tease of the ecstasy he knew was coming. Every thrust in, Jude could feel her throat muscles working around his cock, squeezing like a vice. He pulled back out, her teeth scraping his entire length. Each thrust was harder than the previous until the feel of her short, well-manicured nails digging into his balls brought him to the edge. Looking down at her through the haze of his lust, the struggle to keep him buried to the base in her mouth was evident.

Jude wanted more. Needed more. With a growl, he pulled his cock completely from her mouth to chuck the remainder of his clothes. When he was naked before her, he pulled her up and stripped her with haste. There would be time to savor her body once he got her on the bed.

Coriander was pulling great gulps of air as he picked her up and carried her to the bed, tossing her down to cover her body with his. Their mouths met in a furious tangle of lips, tongue, and teeth, wet and needy.

She tasted light and sweet, like the warm winds of summer as he kissed her.
At some point in the kiss her arms stretched up, fingers digging into his hair and pulling until he felt his scalp burn. She returned the kiss with a hunger that Jude met with fierce intensity. Still engrossed in the taste of her mouth, he leaned down and cupped the delicious roundness of her ass, using it to lift her up.

Instinctively, Coriander wrapped her firm legs around him, allowing Jude to impale her on his rampant erection.
He broke the kiss, crying out as she seated onto his cock and dug her nails into shoulders. Wings, long gone, flexed as though to cradle her body as she hissed at his girth stretching her. It could have been pleasure, it could have been pain; she was so small and tight around him. She leaned her head in, her lips mouthing against his collarbone. She was tight around his cock and Jude moaned as he thrust, the feel of her body searing off any other thought in his brain.

He bucked, pushing her further into the mattress, each slam forcing her body to take more of him. She tensed against him, her soft gasps turning to harsh grunts against his skin. He was taking more of her, his body requiring it, needing her wrapped around him, needing to fill her. The urge was primal and fierce, and his body moved to sate it.

Jude cried out in ecstasy as she sank her teeth into his shoulder, breaking skin. Those perfect little white teeth, usually flashing her little fox grin, bit down even harder. It spurred him to thrust hard enough that she let go of his shoulder to cry out, her pain and pleasure echoing in his ears. Coriander felt so good that Jude wasn’t sure if he could last. This was home. Her body was as close to Heaven as he figured he was ever going to get, and Jude went after those gates with a battering ram.