Sterling (24 page)

“Do what?” I whispered.

Leather pants stroked the outside of my thighs. His hands seductively flirted with my hips, my breast, and my arm until he slowly opened my fingers.

Simon straddled me, bent forward. His palms rubbed against mine and the motion was so frictional that I held my breath. This was not like any other energy exchange I had experienced.

“Touch,” he answered

Jesus, I had forgotten the question
.

“You’re a Mage now; you can only touch your own kind when you’re charged up that way.”

“Wait,” I said in a scared voice. Simon silently turned his head to the side, continuing to rub our palms. Whatever I felt was instinctive; I wasn’t supposed to restrain this. It wasn’t light Simon was coaxing out of me…it was sexual energy.

“No waiting,” he said in slow breaths. “Only doing.”

I took the weight of Simon’s body and felt him everywhere. His muscled tightened when I slid my hand beneath the leather coat and stroked the skin under his shirt. With a slight shake of his shoulders and a quick motion, the coat hit the floor.

I always hated obstacles
.

My eyes made love with the shape of his lips, the way they parted. Simon had the sexiest mouth I had ever seen on a man and I wanted to kiss him.

But those lips disappeared when he nestled into my neck and began kissing his way up my jaw.

Need prickled throughout my body and I turned my head so he could continue on the other side. My receptiveness further aroused him, evident from the sudden grinding motion against my thigh.

“You feel so good,” I whispered.

Hair scented with male spices tumbled onto my cheeks, but Simon had a subtle smell of cinnamon.

He enveloped me with his body and touched my hand tenderly as his energy began pouring into me like liquid lightning.

“Oh God!” I exclaimed, feeling as if I might fall over the edge.

I felt
everything
—his raw desire coursing through me with such penetration that I was writhing beneath him.

“I’ve never done this before.” It sounded so juvenile, but this transference was so distinctly intimate it scared me.

My body felt as though we were already in the act of sex and neither one of us had removed our clothes. I knew this had to be something normal, and yet Justus failed to explain any of it to me.

Was I doing it all wrong?

“What love, what haven’t you done?”

I squeezed his hand and Simon went cold. The connection stopped.

I opened my eyes with regret for having confessed such a thing and saw something in his eyes—judgment? apprehension?—I wasn’t sure.

“I thought you’ve been with him this way.”

He must have known we weren’t together in the other way—the way he was going if he slid a few more inches lower.

My fingers ran over his shoulder, which was heated and sticky. I liked the feel of him, the smell.

I shook my head and Simon was searching for a decision on where this was heading. I was feeling the flickering flames start to recede and I was afraid he would stop.

“Is this something you can do with just anyone?” I asked.

“Binding doesn’t have to mean sex, but if I find out that your going around doing this with other Mage I’m going to hunt down those men and tie them to a flagpole, do you understand? This is not something you should give so freely, it’s as intimate as sex itself.”

He sighed. “I didn’t know it was your first time, I don’t think that I should be the one…it’s too intense and—”

“Simon?”

He stilled at hearing his name. Inner conflict flashed across his face so I reached around and locked my hand around the back of his upper thigh and pulled him hard enough that his hips sank into mine. Hot, tight leather pressed so sweetly against me and my thumb traced the line of his lower lip.

“You owe me on that bet, Simon. But you can keep your money—I want a kiss.”

The inner conflict abruptly ended when I had his mouth on mine.

Simon kissed with such fervor that every part of me stirred and I felt myself moving all over. Our tongues twined so slow and deeply—coaxing all kinds of suggestions about what needed to happen in the lower half—that a primal moan rumbled through his chest.

If that man worked his sex half as good as his tongue, I was in for a hell of a night.

In my past I had never been an aggressive lover; my ex didn’t like it. He thought a submissive woman meant she was a loyal one. Simon was inviting me to take some control so when our hands locked together I gripped him firmly by the hair with my other hand as he poured is energy into me.

Finally, I no longer held back. I reciprocated.

The moment my energy was returned, his teeth nipped my bottom lip and his head jerked back.

“Shit!” he cursed.

We were finally fluid. Connected. The energy swelled between us in waves. It was perhaps the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced to that point.

“Christ, Learner, you’re different.” He breathed. “This is not like anything—”

I closed my fingers around his and arched my hips upward. He let out a moan and I felt every inch of his want pressing against me.

And oh god, how he
wanted
.

“You are...” He continued to kiss along my neck before he met my eyes, and watched them with trepidation, “A Unique.”

I licked my lips and that drew his hungry eyes back to my mouth.

“Let me show you, love.” He cupped his hands over mine and focused heavily on my eyes. “We call this binding.”

Simon rolled through me like a psychic massage in every facet of my being. I twisted beneath him and felt his clever hands slide under my skirt, tugging at my panties until they were off. This time I wore the thin lacy kind, special night out and all. No intention that by the end of the night hands other than mine would be removing them.

I was out of breath, still charged from the exchange when Simon moved down the bed and kissed my leg with long slow licks. I trembled as his pierced tongue stroked along my inner thigh.

Clothes never felt more confining.

His fingers playfully slipped beneath my shirt and stroked small circles over my bra. Simon was releasing small increments of his light when he touched me that way, making me even more sensitive to his touch.

I stroked his arm, encouraging him to do more—I wanted his hands all over me.

“Don’t stop,” I begged.

“Now why would I stop? I’m barely getting warmed up,” he chuckled.

The deep shadow of his dimple formed when he looked up at me—god how I adored that small feature over anything else. Charming, sexual, and mischievous all managed to wrap itself up in that little indentation. Every person has that one thing about them, so small that it defines them. For Simon—that was it.

He sat up and scooped me into his arms, sliding me over his lap. I straddled him and spread soft kisses across his eyes and rocked my hips forward. His chin lowered to the opening of my blouse and he pressed a long kiss.

“You taste as sweet as you look,” he said, tongue tracing lower until it found that annoying fabric of my bra.

Simon could have torn my clothes off in five seconds and I would have been game, but he took slow seduction to a whole new level.

My fingers curled around the leather collar on his neck and pulled away the latch, sliding it free and tossing it aside on the bed.

I never imagined myself with someone like him; Simon was unlike anyone I had ever met. It felt decadent, as if I were indulging in a sinful chocolate that I knew was bad for me.

My lips, my tongue, and my teeth staked their claim on his shoulder—and he hissed as his fingers bit into my skin desperately.

I was actually affected by his desire for me. It was a game to see who could arouse the other more, and who could show the most restraint. I caught this in his gazes—his smirks—when he did something that stimulated me and how I behaved. It was competitive, and my will was collapsing.

I just wanted to pass Go and collect my $200. Simon wanted to take his time shopping for property.

His fingers unfastened the buttons of my blouse. “Darling I fear I might tear this if it stays on any longer.”

When my breathing became erratic with the sound of each button snapping free, my hips glided up and stroked the length of his sex through those tight leathers.

“What about these?”

Simon’s eyes rolled back and I had a ‘gotcha’ moment. Point to me.

He opened my shirt and let his hands float over my skin, but refused to touch it. Damn him…he was still playing the game. I followed my basic instincts and arched my spine and threw my head back.

“Christ love, you’re killing me,” he groaned. I sat up and winked; I could be just as good at this game.

His hands moved beneath my skirt in the back, rubbing.

I never quite gave much thought to nuzzling, but when his mouth pressed against my neck and he moved his chin to do just that, it tickled something very primal in me that I couldn’t resist. It was as if another part of me was alive and yet suppressed, trying to get noticed.

Instinctively, I rubbed my body against his like a cat marking their territory. It roused a startled look on his face and Simon threw back his head. “Why did you just do that?”

“Doesn’t feel good?” I did it again and his voice cracked as our eyes drank each other in.

“I like, I like. It just reminded me of something. Never mind.”

“You like to take your time,” I said observantly.

He wiggled an eyebrow. “I never did like fast food.”

His velvety touch found the tender spot where my legs joined my body and began rubbing in suggestive motions. Some circles were wider than others—sliding that finger into dangerous territory and reminding me that there was nothing between us except his leather pants and 50 tons of willpower.

If his willpower didn’t give soon I was going to shred those leathers.

“Simon,” I panted. “I want more.”

Any restraint he had was eaten up by carnal desire. Simon suddenly switched gears and went into reverse as I was lifted up and thrust back onto the bed with him on top.

His hips rocked into mine, pressing urgently while his tongue made long stroking promises in a deep hard kiss. It wasn’t until my fingers wandered to the waistline of his leather pants and laced the edges of his skin underneath that my question of boxers or briefs was answered.

Simon went commando.

He cupped my face in his hands and pressed our cheeks together as he whispered to himself, “
I want your name
.”

He was frustrated as the only name I went by was Learner.

“Simon, tonight I’d be happy if you’d just call me lover.”

He rolled over pulling me on top of him, lifting my skirt…

And then a door slammed.

Simon tossed me over like a hot potato and flashed into the hall. The sudden rush of air sent all the candles to tremble in terror. I jumped to my feet in stunned disbelief and began brushing my skirt down. My shirt was wide open and I had enough time to pull it together. I cringed as the heavy footsteps approached my open door.

Justus loomed in the doorway with a cold stare that could have obliterated mountains, turned diamonds into ash, and shattered statues.

And I stood like one.

There was a tick in his jaw as he made a mental note of my disheveled hair and crumpled outfit. Crossing my arms, I attempted to be casual.

“I was just getting ready for bed.”

I just didn’t mention with whom
.

That might explain the fact I had only one boot on and my shirt was unbuttoned; but when his eyes roamed across the room and I saw what they locked on, it wouldn’t explain why my panties were lying at the end of the bed.

Nor Simon’s leather coat lying on the floor, for that matter.

Simon came up behind Justus. “I hope you mopped up that parking lot with his arse. Bastard had it coming.”

Justus pivoted to face Simon turning his back to me. I glanced at the sheets, which were now in disarray. Sheets that were always neatly tucked and straight since the day I moved in now looked like a horse trampled across the bed.

“You. Kitchen. Now.”

Simon peered over Justus’s shoulder apologetically. Justus was not my father and we were not teenagers. Simon was a man of at least a hundred years and as I stood there I couldn’t get over the fact that he wouldn’t stand up to Justus—maybe shut the damn door in his face and tell him to take a walk.

I closed my eyes for a moment in embarrassment. When I opened them again, Simon was gone. My Ghuardian could not look at me; he got that blank look that I wasn’t able to read. I noticed that his nice shirt had spatters of blood on it, and regretfully I wondered what happened to that nice grey suit jacket.

I was looking at the panties and he was looking at the leather collar on the bed.