Warrior (14 page)

She stood and walked back to her easel, feeling his gaze burning on the sway of her ass.

When she picked up the brush again, her hand shook.

Jessica studied the tiny vibration regretfully. Much as she loved playing with them both, she didn't want to ruin the work she'd done. It was time to stop.

She looked up. Directly into his eyes. He didn't smile, didn't speak. Just rolled to his feet in one powerful, athletic sweep. He stood there beside the couch, big feet braced apart.

His cock rose to full, breathtaking erection, flushing dark, its shaft lengthening, wrist-thick and breathtaking, his balls drawing tight. As if somehow he'd released some superhuman control he'd had over his body.

“Come here.” It was a growled command, brooking no disobedience. Expecting none.

Jessica would have told any other man to go straight to hell.

She went to Galar.

Her mouth was dry, her nipples hard. As she stood looking up at him towering over her, she felt as if her sex were full of heated honey, thick and sweet. His nostrils flared, scenting her. His smile was slow, hungry. Confident. His cock jerked upward, a brush of heat against her belly.

“I want to touch you. I want to see you.” Galar reached for the hem of her sweatshirt, pulling it off over her head and tossing it aside. His eyes glittered as he studied her breasts, cupped in lace and silk. He swallowed and went for the front clasp of her bra. Spilled her curves free into his warm hands. “Sweet Mother, you
are
beautiful.” He sounded almost reverent.

“So are you.” Jessica let her head fall back with a helpless groan as his big fingers rolled the aching tips.

“Undress for me,” he said in a rumble.

“Oh, yeah.” Swallowing, she reached for the snap of her jeans with eager, shaking hands. The zipper sounded like a surrendering sigh. Jess pushed her jeans down over her thighs, stepped free of them, kicked them carelessly aside.

Galar took a single step back to sweep a burning glance over her. She shivered under his eyes, feeling small and vulnerable. And delicious.

Her gaze fell on the hard swell of his pectoral, the jut of a tiny brown nipple. Aching to touch him, she reached out. His skin felt hot, hard, smooth. Her hands left a smear of crimson across it like war paint.

“I'd better wash my hands.” Her knees shook as she turned back toward the taboret and found a tube of cleanser. She squeezed the thick green gel into her palm.

Big hands reached around her naked waist and closed over hers, stroking the cleanser over her flesh. Whatever the stuff was made of, it stripped away the paint better than anything she'd ever seen, then disappeared like water.

Galar cleaned her hands thoroughly, slowly, until they tingled, clean of paint and aching with the need to touch him back. His fingers felt strong and warm. Her nipples perked. It was hard to breathe.

“You have beautiful hands,” he murmured in her ear. The hunger in his voice made her shiver. “So slender. So delicate and small. Feminine.”

She swallowed, looking down at his big male hands, with their stark, strong tendons and veins. There was nothing at all delicate about him. Nothing at all feminine.

Galar turned her in his arms, those powerful palms so gentle on her shoulders. Jessica stared up into his starkly handsome features. Up close, the red blaze of his eyes didn't look quite human.

“Why do your eyes glow?” Her voice sounded dreamy to her own ears.

“They do that when I'm in
riaat
.” His lids lowered, veiling the glow with thick blond lashes. “Or aroused.”

She had no idea what
riaat
was, and at the moment, she couldn't have cared less. All her attention was focused on his mouth, on the movement of his lips, the full, seductive curve of his lower lip, the thinner line of the upper with its little cupid's bow dip at the top.

Galar smiled and lowered his head. Reading her mind.

The kiss was slow and thorough and dizzying. She leaned into him with a helpless groan. His tongue touched the seam of her lips in a delicate request for entry, and she opened for him with a sigh. He slid inside in a delicious mating thrust. She twirled her own tongue around his, and he moaned, a rough, throaty sound. His arms tightened around her, dragging her close.

Big. Hot. Hard. His cock lay against her belly like a lead pipe. She quivered.

By the time he drew back, they both shook with need. He bent, scooped one arm behind her knees and the other around her shoulders, and swept her into his arms. Pivoted with easy strength to put her down on the couch.

Jessica's heart pounded in a sweet, crazed beat as he straightened, sweeping a glowing glance over her before sliding a knee onto the cushion beside her hip. She watched him bend toward the aching tip of her right breast. His hand cupped her, warm and skillful, as his tongue swirled around her nipple. She closed her eyes at the hot storm of sensation that trailed each wet flick and caress. Teeth closed, gently raking, dragging an aroused gasp from her lips. “Galar!”

He rumbled something, deep and feral. Jessica slid her hands up the powerful width of his shoulders to find the cool blond silk of his hair. Her fingers threaded through the short cropped curls, loving the feel of them, the heat of him against her.

Slowly, gently, Galar began to nibble his way down the line of her torso, stopping at her belly button to lick the little indentation until she squirmed and giggled. She felt him smile against her belly, then continue on his way with those sweetly arousing little nips.

He rose onto hands and knees, moving over her, head down as he tasted his way along. His cock pointed toward her body like a divining rod. Unable to resist, she closed her hand around the thick length.

It was his turn to gasp.

The shaft felt like heated silk, veined and hard. She stroked dreamily. Deep inside her, something tightened and clenched.

At last his mouth reached her soft, damp curls. He parted the petals of her sex with his fingers and gave her a long lick. She shuddered at the mind-blowing sensation, the flood of honeyed heat.

A drop of pre-come gathered at the tip of his cock. Jessica eyed it hungrily, then started pushing her way beneath him.

He straddled her helpfully, letting her angle the thick shaft down toward her mouth.

And then he began to feast.

8

Galar inhaled, breathing in the heady musk of her
damp flesh. He parted the bright, rosy petals, studying the luscious glisten before he leaned down and slipped his tongue between them. He closed his eyes in pleasure at the taste. A little astringent, a bit salty, but Sweet Mother, there was nothing as intoxicating as the taste of a woman's pleasure.

Even as he sampled her lazily, he felt those soft little hands of hers busy on his body—one hand raking blunt nails across his butt, along his thighs, teasing and maddening, the other stroking between his thighs. The feeling of those long, tapered fingers closing around his cock made him shudder in hot delight.

Her tongue flicked over the head in a long, teasing swirl. He shuddered.

Lady, she was incredible. So delicate compared to the tough, muscular warrior women he was used to, she was long-legged and slim as a willow. And yet there was fire in her, a sizzling sexuality, a toughness that refused to give in, not to assassins, not to despair.

Unease rose in him suddenly, and he froze, his tongue going still, even buried as it was in her luscious flesh.

She was dangerous. She could get to him, work her way under his skin in a way none of the others had been able to. Somehow he sensed he'd never be able to hold her at that easy professional distance he'd always been able to maintain with his lovers.

She could make him vulnerable.

But even as cold breathed over Galar, her hot mouth engulfed his cock, sliding it halfway down her throat. Lust and pleasure clawed him, drowning the voice of caution with no effort at all. He groaned against her sex as Jess bobbed her head, sliding his erection in and out.

He'd worry about his vulnerability later. Right now his Warlord's body demanded he feed its considerable hunger.

With a growl of need, he began to bite and lick and suckle.

Sensation rippled through
Jess, intoxicating and delicious—the hot, wet flick of his tongue, the warmth of his big hands stroking her thighs, her ass. The satin-and-steel texture of his cock, tasting of masculinity, salt, and the slightly bitter taste of pre-come. She cupped his balls in her hand, enjoying the feel of velvety skin and soft, springy curls. Widening her jaws, she took more of him in. He rewarded her with a deep groan.

A long finger traced along the seam between her inner lips, then found her slick opening and pressed deep. The feeling made her shiver.

Suddenly he pulled away from her as if unable to stand it anymore and turned to face her, hands braced on the couch on either side of her head.

For a moment they stared at each other, breathing hard with need and pleasure. His angular features looked tight, his mouth full and damp. His eyes shone like a torch.

A powerful thigh slipped between her legs, and she spread herself for him, letting him ease into position. She drew a leg up, enjoying the slide of her skin along his.

“You drive me mad,” he said, his voice rough.

She smiled, reaching up to draw a finger down the line of his braced arm, following the ripple of biceps down to the tendons of his wrist. “I can say the same.”

“Good.” His lids veiled those remarkable eyes, and he lowered his head as he settled over her. She drew in a breath at the sensation of his hard strength pressing precisely against her body—not so hard that she couldn't breathe, but letting her feel his solid power.

Then his mouth found hers in a slow kiss, sampling, brushing back and forth, catching her lip gently between his teeth, giving her a sliding taste of his tongue. She kissed him back, savoring the taste.

But though the kiss started out lazy, wooing, it heated like a pot coming to a boil. He began nipping at her, sliding his tongue deep. She shivered and wrapped one leg around his, sliding it the length of his big body until she could dig a heel against his ass, silently urging him on.

He drew back with a low, hot growl, braced himself on one hand, and reached down with the other. Wrapped it around his cock, angled it, and found her.

They both gasped as he entered, slow, relentless, a gliding thickness that teased her deliciously.

He threw back his head, the long cords of his throat working as he fought for control. Biting down on his lip, he drew out, then pressed deep again.

Jessica wrapped both legs around his narrow ass, then slipped her arms around his massive chest. And held on for dear life as he began to thrust. Deep. Controlled. Filling her more completely than any man ever had.

Lost in heat and hunger, Galar rode her, watching her exquisite face. Her blue eyes shimmered, her hair spilling around her face in heaps of dark silk. Her skin shone like porcelain, contrasting with the blushing pout of her parted lips.

Each thrust made her pretty breasts dance, full and pink-tipped and impossibly tempting. Her long legs clamped over his ass as she ground up at him, adding the strength of her slender body to his.

Pleasure spilled through him, coiling hot around his balls, tightening, goading him to sweet madness until he thrust faster, deeper in heavy lunges. She gasped in time, surging against his body.

The climax roared out of nowhere, a fountain of blinding fire that dragged his head back. He roared, lost in the honeyed flames, in the pulsing grip of her sex around his cock. He heard her scream in raw pleasure as she followed him over.

When the long, delicious spasms finally died away, he collapsed over her, sweating and gasping. Somehow he possessed just enough wit to roll over onto his back and pull her into his arms. She fell against him, panting, limp. Her heart pounded against his chest.

“God,” Jessica whimpered, “that was amazing.”

That, he decided, was putting it mildly. He'd never had such delicious sex in his life.

At that thought, a little snake of unease slithered up his spine.

July 21, 2008
Charleston, South Carolina

The coffee shop
was one of those quaint places that had helped make Charleston beloved of tourists everywhere. The street was cobblestone, shaded with century-old oaks, while the building's exterior was painted cotton-candy pink, with contrasting baby blue Victorian gingerbread. A sign that read “The Loving Cup” hung from a pair of gold-painted hooks.

Her heart pounding, the woman who called herself Charlotte Holt scanned her surroundings warily, too weary and frightened to notice their charm.

The hooves of a big carriage horse clopped on the cobblestone as the beast drew a white landau past. A pair of elderly tourists smiled at her sunnily from its red leather seats. A harried-looking mother ducked around her, towing a three-year-old. The child's face was smeared with the remnants of a chocolate ice cream cone, and he wore an expression of vast contentment.

A big redneck in a gimmie hat drew Charlotte's quivering attention, but a quick scan of his mind showed he was exactly what he appeared to be. Not, thank God, the Xer assassin who'd been dogging her trail like a horror-flick ghost seeking bloody vengeance.

Deciding it was safe, she limped into the coffee shop. Her hip burned with every step, a painful reminder of the wound Marcin had inflicted two days before. If not for her powers, she'd be dead.

Even as she pushed open the front door to the cheerful jangle of a bell, rich scents enveloped Charlotte. Expensive ground beans, chocolate, caramel, steamed milk, whipped cream, the yeasty smell of baking muffins. Her stomach rumbled. She tried to remember how long it had been since she'd eaten. Breakfast yesterday? Or had it been the day before?