Married (18 page)

He tried not to admire that.

He pressed beneath her shirt and the heat of her scorched his palms. Her hands clamped around his cock, her magic zinging along his nerves. Pleasure pulsed through the length of him, dangerously close to the edge. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed her wrist.

“Turn around.”

Caramel eyes glazed, she followed his command. A measure of sanity returned to him, the sharp throb in his dick settled down to a heavy ache. Adam pressed against Tulah’s spine until she folded forward, lifting her hands to brace against the scrolled top of the delicate sofa. He prayed the furniture wasn’t as insubstantial as it looked.

His hands swept under her shirt again, and her muscles flinched, her breathing grew choppy. He kept his touch light over her ribs, applying more pressure at the edge of her bra band. He followed the curve of fabric away and back, teasing her until he teased himself.

Need snarling, he cupped her breasts, squeezing and plumping until he had to close his eyes to maintain his control. A perfect handful. Unbidden desire rose up and snapped down on his intentions, whipping him on until he surrendered and ripped off her shirt. A flick of his fingers had her bra parting. He pulled that from her, too.

It was too dangerous to tilt his head and look at her, and he would be damned if he turned her back around. Not with her rounded ass pressed against his dick. He made do with palming her breasts, learning through touch while his imagination filled in the blanks.

His fingers clenched on her nipples and she cried out, an intensely feminine sound of approval. She shifted her stance, leaning more heavily against the sofa, arching her back like a cat. Adam squeezed her nipples again, barely managing to hold back his own moan.

He wanted to press his chest to her back and let her body’s heat fill him as he filled her. Instead, he shoved the idea away and removed one hand from her breast. Trailing his fingers over her belly in a race against the emotions threatening to overrun him, Adam sought her waistband.

He dove beneath, pressing hard against her belly until his wrist was imprisoned by age-softened denim. With an accuracy only years of whoring for his Family could provide, his fingers delved between her legs, under the rough cotton underpants to the slick silk hidden by soft curls. He slipped over her. A glancing strike against her clit had her rising, wriggling.

He teased and tormented, but quickly. He couldn’t hold out too much longer. Sentimental needs were battling physical desire, weakening his resolve and tempting him to slow
way
down and take her like he meant to keep her.

But a fuck was all he could offer.

So Adam circled her swelling clit with tight passes that had her body readying itself for him. His fingers slid deep, pressing between her folds to swipe her entrance. He dipped in, pulled out, cruelly leading her on. Tulah gasped and panted, arched and spread her thighs wider. He returned to her clit and flicked it, loving the purring noise she made.

He gripped the little nub between gentle fingers and went still. Barely touching her, surrounding her with his heat, he waited a moment, a heartbeat of time where his entire skull was totally silent but for the panting of his libido. She groaned, a shrill sound that was just shy of a frustrated scream, before rolling her spine until her clit pulled against his hold. He refused to release it.

The bud pulsed beneath his fingers. Hot flesh became deliciously humid, a tremor ran through Tulah’s entire body. Some animalistic thing deep inside Adam’s soul snarled. Patience gone, emotions clawing at their cage, instinct took over.

He wrenched his hand from her, ignoring her protesting moan. He pried the buttons from their holes at her waistband and fought the material until it was anchored under her ass, restricting the spread of her legs. Beautifully curved, taking his breath, her ass was the only part of her slender body adequately padded. A wild vision of his hips slamming into the soft globes momentarily stole Adam’s ability to move. Lost to the mental vision, he stared until she wiggled and pleaded.

He pushed his hand between her cheeks and slid his fingers down to find her. She was hot and wet, creaming for him, more than ready. He caught his cock in his hand and watched as he fed it into her body. He couldn’t bring himself to thrust in hard, he couldn’t bring himself to drive into the heat of her and ride her without mercy.

Not just then, maybe in a minute.

He pushed slowly, steadily, feeling the hot clasp of delicate, soft tissue close around him inch by inch, urging him on with rippling contractions that were better than anything he’d ever felt before. One inch at a time, he sank into liquid fire and felt Tulah adjust around him, a slow unfurling of overwhelming
craving
as she shifted and lifted before him.

Just before he lost his mind completely, his hips pressed against her ass. Silken skin shifted against the lowest plane of his abdomen, tempting Adam beyond his limits. He reached around her body, one hand clamping around her breast, the other gripping her clit. He dragged in air, tightened all his holds on her, and pulled out.

Slammed back in.

Adam lost himself to her heat. He buried his cock inside her with a groan motivated by sensory overload. Velvet and silk, shifting flesh, her swollen breast jolted in his palm, her clit vibrated against his thumb and her ass jiggled over his dick. He pounded into her, forgetting everything but the feel of her, so tight around him, so slender beneath him, so right against him.

Thrusting again and again, he couldn’t get enough of her. He felt her tightening around him, harder and faster as he drove her on. He pushed and pulled, seeking a deeper entry, a faster return to her depths. Her walls dragged over his cock, rubbed sweetly, sucked urgently. Tulah’s ass cushioned the blows of his hips and Adam watched the globes sway, saw the sheen of her cream on his dick as he withdrew, felt her gush as he pushed back in.

Time drew out in lengthening chains of heavy pants and jerking nerves. Adam’s muscles hardened into stone, his spine became unhinged. He slung forward, Tulah arched back. Adam’s eyes fell to the angry red line across her spine. Blindly obeying his instincts, he dipped his head, and kissed her bruise.

She fractured and fell, soaring into pleasure with a brutal clenching of her pussy. Adam gritted his teeth and kept driving, loving the pressure, loving the heat. Tulah rippled around him, clung and clamped down until she stole his breath. His balls hammered and pulsed, his cock jerked. He pushed past the resistance within her, past the tightening muscles—he hit the end of her and wanted to go farther.

His cock exploded without warning, fire racing up its length, melding with the sensations that cascaded through his balls and tore up his spine. Every nerve in his back pulled taut and sliced him through to his core. He leaned over Tulah to brace his hands against the sofa next to hers and jolted and shuddered while she pressed back against him hard, holding him in place as he poured himself into her.

A long moment later, vulnerability nearly took him to the floor.

Gathering every bit of energy he had left, Adam pressed his hand to her belly and willed his magic deep under skin. Seemingly unaware of the spell that would keep her from getting pregnant, Tulah slumped forward, every muscle in her body relaxing. Adam planted a gentle kiss on her nape and pulled out, already tugging her pants over her hips.

“Thank you, Adam.”

Weakly, he offered the right words as his confusion ripped him apart. Then he ran from the room.

Chapter Fifteen

Georgeanne

The first thing Georgie noticed when she walked into her grandmother’s sitting room after eating breakfast was the haggardness of the woman’s face. It was not a common sight, though she’d been looking increasingly tired over the past two days. While usually robust and glowing with health, Madeleine sat slumped in the corner of the small couch, with Margaret next to her patting her hand.

Margaret lifted her eyes to Georgie, surprising her with a flash of real concern in the dark depths. She tilted her head toward her sister. “Madeleine has had a bad morning, Georgeanne. Perhaps you could call down to room service and have them send up some tea?”

Georgie nodded, immediately detouring toward the phone on a small table. “Of course.”

“No.” Madeleine’s voice was scratchy, entirely too weak for the old woman. Georgie had never heard her sound so tired. “I will show no weakness. I simply didn’t sleep well.”

“All the more reason for you to rest now, then,” Margaret argued.

Madeleine sent her sister a harsh glare, but broke it off instantly as her face twisted with a grimace. Her thin hand flew to her chest, rubbing firmly until her nightgown was crushed beneath her fingers. Her face went ashen and Georgie felt a spurt of true fear.

She dropped to her knees before the sofa, clutching at her grandmother’s hand. “What’s wrong?”

Madeleine shook her head. “I’m not entirely certain. I feel restless and flushed, and yet enervated. I feel as if I’m wearing a wool blanket and the air is too thick to take in, but I’m cold.”

“She wants to act as if she’s still a young woman,” Margaret said stridently.

Georgie chafed Madeleine’s hand. “When did this begin?”

“The moment we arrived,” her grandmother snorted. “We are in enemy territory, Georgeanne. Graves cast a spell that keeps my Family prisoner, he’s a clear threat to you, Constance is hovering, ready to swoop down on my grandson and manipulate him into giving her power in
our
Family, Christiana is pregnant, Silviu is…Silviu, and Father Ngozi is arriving today.”

Georgie felt her face freeze at Silviu’s name. “You don’t have to handle all of that on your own.”

“There is so very much wrong here, Georgeanne.” Madeleine shifted her hand to capture Georgie’s fingers, but when she pressed, the old woman had none of her usual strength.

“Then let me figure out how to deal with it.” Georgie brought Madeleine’s trembling hand to her cheek for a brief moment before releasing the woman and moving toward the phone again. “In the meantime, we are free to do what we will until dinner tonight.”

“But we must socialize. At the very least, we must use the opportunity to evaluate what we are dealing with.”

Georgie paused with her hand on the phone. “Then I’ll rally the troops while you get some rest. Silviu, Ileana and Eliasz will help, and I’ll track down that girl…Tulah. I’ll see what she knows, and send the others off to learn more from different sources.”

“You trust the Lovaszes and Eliasz Levy that much?”

“I do. We formed something of an alliance in Poland.” Georgie closed her mouth, unwilling to elaborate. She met her grandmother’s heavy stare and waited for acceptance of her plan.

Madeleine didn’t relent so much as sag back into the couch cushions. Tamping down a spike of fear, Georgie called the kitchen and placed her order. With a hard look at Margaret, who nodded in silent understanding, Georgie left the suite.

She made her way through the hallways with a growing sense of unease. She paused at Silviu’s door, but there was no answer to her knock and she moved on with irritation bubbling in her chest. Gathering her political persona, Georgie took a deep breath and descended to the lobby of the hotel.

It, too, was silent.

Georgie gained the distinct impression that the space around her was holding its breath, a heavy tension infusing the atmosphere like the humid calm before a tropical storm. She would have scolded her own fanciful imaginings if the hotel wasn’t so oppressive, if Graves wasn’t so craftily insane, or if the situation wasn’t so dangerous.

She wriggled her shoulders and pushed through the swinging door leading deeper into the bowels of the ground floor. The hotel had a curious setup, with the communal rooms all but hidden behind the lobby.

She poked her head into every door she came across. The ballroom was empty, but she knew it would soon be bustling with activity in order to get it ready for the celebration scheduled for the next evening. The smaller dining room was completely bare, breakfast service having finished, but the conference room was oddly disarranged, with chairs grouped haphazardly around a large table. There were no people anywhere, however.

She went down a short hallway she knew she had no business exploring. On the very brief tour she’d been given by an Ngozi man who refused to offer his name, the hallway had been dismissed out of hand. He’d shown her the rooms the guests had been expected to make use of, and nothing more.

There were two doors, one to either side. Mentally flipping a coin, Georgie chose the door to the left. Crossing the threshold, a tingle of warmth spread over her, a misty flare sparked off her skin, and she knew the door had been warded with a spell. She ignored it and stepped into the dark room, the fire on the hearth the only source of light for the windowless space.

Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves made themselves known through the dimness. A heavy desk spread out before the far wall, two uncomfortable, prison-quality chairs fronting it. Angled toward the fire were two massive wingbacks. Georgie took another step into the room.

Graves rose from a chair before the fire. Georgie managed not to flinch as he surged to his feet, and even held on to her composure when he flicked his fingers in her direction. He took a step around the chair that had hidden him as the door behind her slammed shut, the snick of the lock echoing in the silence that followed.

Denying a sudden surge of acid in her belly, she arched a brow. “Good morning, Graves.”

“It hadn’t been,” he purred, “but it’s starting to look up.”

“Have you had a bad morning, then?” Her tone was all sympathy.

“The Ngozi Father arrived this morning.”

In the gloom, Georgie saw his face twist into curious lines, an expression she couldn’t quite read. His voice was mild enough, however, and that served to send her anxiety soaring. She showed no signs of it.

She was made of sterner stuff than anything Graves had faced before. She knew it, and she was determined to make him know it, too. She was the Davenold heir, a matriarchal witch set to inherit her Family’s power. Trained and molded in her grandmother’s image, Georgie was confident in her abilities. She was Bane. Magic wouldn’t work against her.