Magic Gone Wild (11 page)

They’d landed in an Arabian Nights whorehouse.

Zane knew his mouth was hanging open but could do nothing to stop it. Everywhere he looked was sheer fantasy.

It was as if someone had gotten hold of every sheik porn flick ever made and splashed the sets all over the inside of Vana’s bottle. Or as if that person had taken a peek inside his brain when he’d been kissing her because he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this. And now here it was, in Technicolor.

Her bottle had
not
looked like this the last time he’d been here. If it had, they never would have left.

The bed, sprinkled with rose petals and covered in mounds of pillows and silks and pink satin sheets, turned slowly on a raised dais. Gauzy curtains draped from the ceiling, amazingly unscorched by the hundreds of candles flickering around the bed. An ice bucket with champagne and a plate of grapes were on one side, bottles of oils on the other. Soft music and incense filled the air, the perfect set-up for seduction.

His or hers?

He didn’t care.

“I, um… oh dear.” Vana darted to the bed, brushing rose petals onto the floor and snuffing out candles as she went, shaking the heat from her fingers after each one. If she kept that up, she wouldn’t have any skin left. And that’d be a damn shame because, God knew, he liked Vana’s skin.

“This wasn’t supposed to be here, Zane. It’s not what I was planning—ouch!” She popped a finger into her mouth.

He was not immune to that utterly sexy image, and from the look of this place, she didn’t want him to be.

“Sssh, Vana.” Four strides, that’s all it took, and he was beside her. “This is considerably more than fine. You really went all out, and all I can say is… thank you.”

Her finger slid from her mouth with a soft
pop.
“Thank you?”

“For making this so perfect.”

“Perfect?” Her grey eyes darkened to pewter, silver flashes in their depths, and the smile that lit her face was as perfect as the rest of the place.

He touched her temple with the backs of his fingertips. “Just like you,” he whispered. Because the moment called for whispering.

She took a tiny step closer—tiny, because that was all the space that separated them.

Zane threaded his fingers through her hair and let the silky strands flow through them, draping them over her shoulder, and watched them slide along her skin before tracing his fingers up the column of her throat, where her pulse beat quickly, and then over the soft curve of her cheek.

Candlelight flickered in her eyes. Or maybe it was the same heat that was racing through his blood at being so close to her. The fragrance of rose petals wafted around them, a sweet scent that reminded him of the combination of mint tea and her arousal.

“Seems a shame to let all your hard work go to waste,” he whispered, trying to slow the pounding of blood through his veins.

“W… waste?” She looked at him from beneath her lashes and licked her lips.

He cradled her head in his palms and flicked the corner of her mouth with his thumbs to get her to open for him. She was so much smaller than him. So feminine. So utterly gorgeous. And if she licked her lips one more time, he wasn’t going to be responsible for his actions.

As if she’d read his mind—and seconded it—Vana licked her bottom lip.

Zane groaned and covered that moist, beckoning lip with his own, cupping her head with one hand and raking the other through her hair, then down, lower, over the tight mound of her ass. His fingers strayed, cupping her there, the sensation so much more vivid now that he didn’t have to worry about Merlin stopping them.

She moaned into the kiss, and Zane forgot the damn bird and tugged her closer.

God, what she did to him. Every tiny hitch of her breath was a gong crashing in his brain. The crush of her breasts against his chest, that thin fabric that hid nothing from him, especially the fact that she wore no bra, turned him on. He’d noticed in the garden that he was feeling all woman against him, and he wanted the chance to taste every inch of her. And he would, if only he could pull his lips from hers.

He would.

Soon.

Her scent surrounded him, captivated him, spun a web around him better than those sheer curtains did as the bed rotated among them.

He nipped her bottom lip, needing to mark her, if only a little, and she nipped him back, sliding her hands beneath his shirt, her fingernails scraping his back.

Her fingers dipped below his waistband, brushing the sensitive skin above his ass, and Zane felt his knees tremble.

Had to be some residual from the broken legs she’d fixed because no woman had ever buckled his knees. None. And certainly this small slip of a genie wouldn’t be the first.

He shoved the genie thought out of his head. Right here, right now, she was a woman and he was a man, and the most elementary communication their species ever had was all they needed.

He twisted a hank of her hair around his fist, tugging her head back at just the right angle to drop kisses along her jaw. She tried to turn her head, but her hair held her captive.
He
held her captive. He could take his time and explore every hollow and curve and scent and taste for as long as he wanted.

And how he wanted…

He traced the beating pulse from beneath her ear down along the column of her throat to the base of her neck. Over to the hollow, her collarbone so pronounced yet delicate that he had to nip at it gently.

She gasped and her fingers clenched against him. God, what he wouldn’t give to be naked.

And, hey, she was a genie.

His
genie.

“I wish we were naked,” he muttered between kisses.

It was amazing she heard him, his words were so thick with desire, but she did, and before he knew it, they were naked. Just like that. No fanfare, no sensation of clothes being ripped from his body—they’d explore that option later—but one wish and it’d come true.

He put a knee on the bed, trapping her between it and his other leg, letting her feel everything that he felt and wanted from her. “Vana…” He groaned as her belly fluttered, stoking the rush of blood in his groin. “Tell me you want this.”

She didn’t tell him; she showed him, pressing against him, breasts to thighs, and Zane hardened almost to the point of pain.

It hadn’t been more than six months since he and Stephanie had cooled things off, but right now, he felt as if he had years’ worth of desire bursting to get out.

Cupping her backside again, Zane lowered her to the bed. Rose petals mingled among the silky strands of her hair and slid across his fingertips.

He grabbed a few and traced them over her skin, all the while laving kisses and licks along her collarbone and the valley between her breasts.

She sighed and slid her arms free from beneath him to cradle his head when his tongue found her nipple.

“Oh, yes,” she whispered, her sigh singing along his nerve endings.

There was the permission he’d sought, as was the tight bud pebbling for him. He rolled his tongue around it, eliciting gasps from her with each circle. He sucked her then and her fingers gripped his hair, her pelvis matching the tugs he made, rising with each, then falling back when he released. Tiny, short movements, almost nonexistent, but Zane felt each one with every cell in his body.

His erection was hard against her thigh, aching to be buried inside her, but Zane couldn’t go that fast. He wanted to draw this out, make it last. Give her the pleasure she wanted. That he wanted.

His tongue slid down to dip into her belly button and her stomach fluttered. The musky scent of her arousal called him lower, but he took his time, exploring. Each flutter of her muscles deserved its own kiss, each ragged breath a long, drawn-out lick. She tasted of salt and roses, of mint and that special something that was all her, and Zane knew he’d never forget it.

His teeth nipped at her hip bone, and his lips played along the concave recess below, drawing ever closer to the heart of his desire and hers.

Her fingers slid to his hair and she widened her legs, and the soft curls there caressed his cheek as he placed a kiss right above where they both wanted him to be.

“Zane, please.”

“I will, sweetheart. I will.”

He knelt on the floor by the bed and lifted her left leg over his shoulder, raining kisses from knee to the inner thigh. Her foot flexed against his back with each one.

He turned to the other leg, repeating the same maddeningly slow, tantalizing trek upward again.

She clasped the sheets and crumbled the rose petals, which only released their oils, and the scent turned him on that much more.

He had to taste her. Had to find the aching part of her to fill that ache inside of him.

His lips feathered along her inner thigh, drifting ever closer, and she opened her legs wider. Pulsed down toward him, the sleek, aching part of her swollen for his pleasure.

And he took it.

Vana gasped when he touched her. Gods, the sensations. It’d been so long—too long—and this was beyond what she’d ever felt before with anyone. Including D’Artagnan.

She clasped the sheets, crushing them in her grasp, her fingernails tearing through the delicate fabric. Each lap of his tongue made her catch her breath, each gentle rasp of his teeth making her tremble.

She needed to touch him but couldn’t. All she could do was be a slave to her body as each wave of feeling grabbed her and swirled her around in a vortex of color blossoming behind her eyelids, the anticipation overpowering everything but the thunder of her heart in her ears, the magic whirling through her veins and racing along her nerve endings. She felt as if she could not only touch the stars, but create them, too.

“Zane… I can’t…” She didn’t know what she couldn’t. All she knew was that if he ever stopped this, for even one tiny second, she’d fall apart.

His tongue slid inside her, and Vana felt the end begin. Felt the first shudder wrack her body.

He did it again and she moaned. Loud and keening. And she didn’t care. She pulsed against him, gasping when his fingers replaced his tongue, and she clenched around him.

“That’s it, Vana. Come for me.”

The candles flared and she could only thrash her head as his tongue once again worked its magic upon her.

She came then, against his mouth, open and aching and holding nothing back. He wouldn’t let her; he was relentless in his pursuit of her pleasure, drawing out each wracking, shuddering tremor to its most painfully exquisite finale. Shimmering pink Glimmer rained down upon them until, at last, there was nothing left to give. Nothing left inside her but the knowledge that nothing would ever be the same again.

Vana caught her breath. What did that mean? What wouldn’t be?
Why
wouldn’t it?

She struggled to clear her mind of the utterly sated sensual haze he’d created in her. She had to think. Had to figure this out.

But then he moved over her, above her, as sleek as a panther and as determined as a man could be, kissing his way up her body, and desire rose up again inside of her. She’d think about it tomorrow.

“I want you, Zane.” She kissed him, tasting herself and him and the rose petal he’d rubbed across her lips.

“And you’ll have me,” he growled softly into her ear. “Where are the condoms?”

She smiled against his cheek. “You’re with a genie. We don’t need condoms. Magic takes care of everything.”

“Ah, God, I love magic.” He kissed her then, all tongue and lips and uninhibited desire.

As his tongue slipped into her mouth, his erection slid inside her, the combination of the two invasions thrusting her right back into the throes of orgasm. She wrapped her legs around his waist and set a rhythm she hoped he could match, but really couldn’t worry about. She needed to feel him move, needed to wrap herself around him and accept whatever he wanted to give. She’d been so starved for human contact, mortal or djinn, that this… this was amazing. That it was him was beyond all her hopes and dreams and wishes.

As Zane moved inside her, matching her rhythm, she knew she should be worried about that last thought… but he took her last thought.

He pounded into her, the sweat on his back making her hands glide over his skin, seeking and grasping over the sleek, taut muscles there. She latched onto his firm, perfectly shaped butt to keep herself in place.

“Yes, Vana… that’s it,” he huffed with labored breathing. “Touch me there, baby.”

She kissed his throat, the muscles there straining as he thrust into her, then dragged her lips down over his hard, defined pecs, tasting him, savoring the scent of their lovemaking on his skin.

“Oh god, Vana… Can’t hold on… Come with me…”

She found his nipple then and flicked her tongue over it. He groaned, shuddering his release inside her.

Vana felt every movement in slow motion, every contraction of her body, every surge of his, reveling in the utter connection she felt with him at this moment. One she’d never felt with anyone before. More than a little frightening, the realization was also utterly thrilling.