MARKED (Hunter Awakened) (14 page)

Elias regarded me with those piercing eyes
again and I knew I wasn't going to win this one. That was the look
of someone who wasn't going to budge.

“I will remain here until Mr. Stevens
arrives,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I didn't tell him, of course, but I was glad
that he was staying. No matter how pissed I was at him, I felt
safer with him around. I didn't care what he'd said. I trusted him.
He wasn't going to let anything bad happen to me. Those thoughts
continued to repeat in my head until I climbed into bed. They faded
from coherent words to images. The feel of his hands on my
shoulders. The intensity in his eyes. How he'd sounded when he'd
promised to keep me safe. It was those images that stayed with me
as I drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Fifteen

Usually, Alexa, my cleaning lady made sure
that the library was tidy. It didn't have to be done very often
either, particularly when I was working. I loved to read, but when
I was involved in a project, I was lucky to get two books read
every month or so. I tried to make up for that during the times I
was off and not doing press junkets—sci-fi conventions were going
to be huge for this show—usually polishing off two to three books a
week.

I'd stopped in the library for that very
reason, and that had been when I'd noticed all of the books lying
around and I'd decided to put them away.

The library in my childhood home had been
filled with ancient-looking tomes, some rare first editions, others
lesser volumes that just looked old and important. What Mom and Dad
had loved to do was select two or three of the actual classics and
put them on display. People would then assume that all of the other
old-looking books were just as special. I'd never understood the
point of owning a book that couldn't be read just because it had
been printed a long time ago, though there was something I found
fascinating about rare books with author notes, no matter the
editions. Those were the only ones I bought for careful perusal and
display. Everything else was to be read.

I wasn't a book snob either. I liked some of
the classics, like Poe and Twain and Dickens, with a little
Shakespeare thrown in for good measure. I found Austen bearable.
Carroll kind of creeped me out. Hemingway and all of the Brontë
sisters, however, I couldn't stand. I felt the same way about the
'new classics.' Some were excellent, others not so much. Then there
were the new books. I was a strange mix of indie and popular, not
solely fitting in either category. I liked books that snobs
considered trash because people loved them, but I did also like the
obscure ones that no one had ever heard of.

It was a combination of these books that I
intended to read once shooting wrapped for Christmas. As I started
putting away the books that lay all over the place, I would set
aside the ones I wanted to read. Once I had them all, I would put
them into some sort of order.

There were at least a hundred books out,
which was a bit surprising. Usually, I'd only take a handful at a
time. I wasn't sure why there were more laying out, only that I
wanted to get them organized. The room was large, with high,
vaulted ceilings and massive bookcases that towered above me. There
was a fireplace at one end and flames already crackling away.

On either side of the fireplace were two
plush chairs with little end-tables and lamps. A little further
back in the room was a massive oak table, surrounded by
straight-backed oak chairs. It was this table that was covered with
books. Thing was, even that many books was a tiny percentage of
what I owned.

I'd brought close to two hundred books with
me from my parents, selling the rest. A third of the ones I
brought, I'd ended up selling as well. Over the last five years, I
bought books constantly. Garage sales, online, thrift stores,
wherever I found bargains. Now, I had close to twenty-five hundred
books. Some I'd read, some I hadn't, but I was determined to make
it through them all. For now, however, I was just going to put most
of them away.

I was standing on my bookcase ladder—you
know, one of those things they have in books stores that slides on
wheels so you don't have to get up and down so much—when it
happened.

I heard the library door open and I
half-turned to see who was coming in. Not the brightest thing I've
ever done, granted, but I did it. And, of course, my foot slipped
and I fell. Okay, so I was only about ten feet in the air, but it
startled me enough that I made a very embarrassing squeaking sound
before realizing that this was going to hurt.

I landed with an 'umf' and it took me a
moment to realize that it hadn't hurt at all. There was a good
reason for that, it seemed. Elias had caught me. I tilted my head
back, the look in his eyes making me catch my breath. He set me on
my feet, but kept his arms around me as he backed me up against the
bookshelf. My heart pounded wildly in my chest as his body pressed
against mine. I could feel every muscle, every curve. I could feel
his hard length against my hip, and then he shifted and it pressed
against another part of me entirely.

“Elias,” I breathed his name, reaching up
around his neck. I needed him more than I'd ever needed anyone,
anything, before. More than air or food, I was consumed with my
need to feel his bare skin beneath my fingertips, the heat of him
against me, the fullness of him inside me. I could see my own
hunger written on his face and hoped that, this time, he wouldn't
deny it.

Then his mouth was on mine, insistent and
demanding. His lips forced mine apart and my tongue met his,
pulling it into the wet heat of my mouth. I sucked on it, drawing a
moan from him that made me shiver. I wanted to be responsible for
him making more sounds like that. I dug my fingers into his hair as
I tilted my head, deepening the kiss. The shelves pushed into my
back as Elias pressed his body more tightly against mine. His hands
were on my waist, his fingers gripping me tightly, then they were
moving, skimming against the strip of flesh just above the
waistband of my pants.

“Too many clothes,” he murmured against my
mouth.

I would've agreed, but the power of speech
seemed to be evading me at the moment.

He moved our bodies apart as his mouth took
mine again and his hands moved to the neck of my shirt. Before I
could protest, there was a loud ripping sound and the soft cotton
tore straight down the middle. I might've protested, but his lips
were making their way down my neck even as his hands were cupping
my breasts through my bra, and all I could manage was a moan. My
nipples hardened, the soft lace of the bra feeling rough against
the sensitive skin.

He pushed my bra up over my breasts and
lowered his head to them. He took one nipple between his lips and
my head fell back, hitting the bookcase with a thump. I barely felt
it, more attuned to the delicious pull coming from the suction on
my breast. He rolled his tongue around the wrinkled flesh and
another ripple of pleasure went through me.

My knees buckled as Elias shoved his hand
down the front of my pants, his fingers expertly delving between my
folds to find that little bundle of nerves that sent jolts of
electricity across my nerves. As my legs gave out, he worked his
hand deeper, holding me upright. My hands went to his shoulders and
I clung to him as I struggled to get my legs underneath me. I
needed more friction, needed relief from the ache I'd had for too
long.

“Please,” I begged him as I ground down on
his hand.

When he slipped a finger inside me, I cried
out. He pumped it in and out, pressing the heel of his hand against
that sensitive nub, and my body shook. He slid a second finger into
me and my hands clenched. His teeth scraped across my nipple and I
swore, my eyes squeezing shut.

I heard a tearing sound and Elias uttered an
oath. It wasn't until he pulled his hand from my pants that I
opened my eyes and realized that I'd torn his t-shirt. My nails
were digging into his shoulders, but when my eyes met his, I saw no
pain, only a primal ferocity that made my mouth go dry.

He grabbed me by the waist and carried me to
the table where he spun me around. I put out my hands, catching
myself as he bent me forward. My shirt hung in two halves and my
bra wasn't even close to where it was supposed to be, but I didn't
care. I just wanted him to fuck me. I didn't want making love or
something gentle and sweet. I wanted him to take me, hard enough
that I'd feel it. I needed him to fuck me.

His hands were rough as they yanked down my
pants, and I was thankful that I hadn't worn skinny jeans. As it
was I could barely spread my legs. Then I felt Elias's hands on my
ass, his breath hot against my skin, and I forgot about my jeans.
The moment his tongue touched me, I dropped from my hands to my
elbows, my head falling forward. It had been way too long since
someone had gone down on me, and Elias knew what he was doing.

His tongue lapped up the moisture from my
previous orgasm, the flat of the flexible muscle passing over the
sensitive skin until my muscles were trembling. When he worked his
tongue into my core, I swore. So many men were half-hearted about
oral sex, thinking of it as either foreplay needed to get to
intercourse, or reciprocation for getting head. Not Elias. He did
it like he did everything else. Thoroughly and with single-minded
focus.

Only when I was teetering on the edge of
another climax did he stand. I made a noise of protest that quickly
turned into a wail as something far bigger and better was buried in
one swift thrust. I needed to spread my legs, to move so that my
body could accommodate his formidable size, but I couldn't and it
didn't matter. He snapped his hips forward over and over again,
driving the air from my lungs in bursts of sound that would've been
embarrassing if I'd taken a moment to care.

“Teal, fuck,” Elias groaned as he fucked
me.

He was stretching me wider than I'd thought
possible, reaching places deep inside me with an intensity that
almost hurt. Every stroke made me want to scream, to cry. I pounded
my fists against the tabletop as my brain threatened an
overload.

“Fuck!” I yelled as Elias pulled out.
“Please!” I nearly sobbed in frustration. I'd been so close.

Elias laughed, a sharp, abrupt sound that
made my stomach twist. He lifted me and put me on the table, easily
manhandling me into the position he wanted. My back was flat, my
hands gripping the table’s edge. My legs were in the air, bent back
until my jean-clad knees were against my chest. I had a moment to
be grateful that all of my training had made me flexible, and then
he was shoving inside me again.

He leaned over me, bending me almost in half,
slamming down into me over and over until spots danced behind my
eyes and my lungs screamed for more oxygen. When I came, I couldn't
scream, couldn't do anything but open my mouth as my back arched up
off of the table and all of my limbs went rigid. And still, he kept
going, pushing me from one orgasm into the next until I finally
passed out.

When I came to, I was naked, and so was he.
He was kissing his way down my body, his mouth marking my pale skin
until I knew that I'd have to answer some embarrassing questions if
any of my costumes were too low cut. He smiled as he saw me looking
up at him and it was that relaxed smile that I loved. No masks, no
pretense, just an openness that meant we were truly connecting.

“Are you ready for more?” he asked as he
flicked his tongue over the tip of one of my nipples.

“More?” My brain was a bit fuzzy. Had he not
cum before?

“Oh, I am far from finished with you, my
dear.” His smile changed to something so wicked that it made the
juncture between my legs throb. His fingers danced across my
abdomen. “Would you like to know what I shall do to you?”

I gulped, but nodded. I very much wanted to
know.

Elias leaned down and ran his teeth across my
shoulder. I shivered.

“I am going to pull you to the edge of the
table, kneel down and feast on you until you scream my name.”

I liked the sound of that. I kept my eyes
locked with his as his hand began caressing my left breast.

“I shall take you over to one of those
chairs, sit down and lower your head until you take me in your
mouth.” His hand moved down over my stomach until his fingers
rested just above my pale curls. “Then I will place you on my lap
and have you slowly slide onto me until I am completely engulfed in
your tight heat.”

I whimpered as his hand dropped down between
my legs.

“You are wet, my Teal.” He sounded pleased.
“Does this mean that you are pleased with what I wish to do?”

The synapses in my brain were threatening to
misfire, but I knew that I needed him to know just how badly I
wanted him. Even as his fingers began to move between my lips, I
started to talk. “Yes, please, Elias. I want your mouth on my
pussy, your tongue in me. I want to suck your dick, make you cum in
my mouth.” His eyes widened, the color darkening impossibly. “I
want to ride you in those chairs until we cum together. I want all
of that and more.”

My mind raced, thousands of images spilling
forward. “I want you to take me in the shower, up against the wall.
In the back of the car. In my trailer at work. Every position you
can think of and any place we can manage it.” I put my hand on his
cheek. “I just want you.”

“And I you,” he said. He pushed two fingers
into me, his thumb brushing over that bundle of nerves again. “If
you allow it, I will show you how I love you time and again until
all doubt is erased.”

And he did. I didn't know how many times we'd
both climaxed, only that each time seemed to join us more deeply
than the last. He did everything he'd said and then started on the
things that I'd said. He bent me over the hood of the car and
flipped up my skirt. We fucked in my trailer while we waited for me
to be called to set. Every room in my house was a place to find
somewhere new to have sex. We even went to the garden one night and
made love under one of the rose trellises. The possibility that we
might get caught just added to the excitement. In fact...