by Sandra Hill
She stiffened her legs and tried to forestall the climax that was fast approaching. How embarrassing! To come from mere kissing or touching!
“No, no. Don’t fight it. Let yourself go. Let me see you melt.” He put his mouth to one of her breasts, right over the T-shirt fabric and sucked. Rhythmically.
Oh! Oh! Oh! She did, in fact, melt into unbearably tantalizing spasms that emanated from between her legs—which had somehow become even wider spread with Zeb’s erection pressing against her—and rippled outward throughout her body in waves.
She gasped for breath and said, finally, after calming her racing heart, “What about you?” It was obvious that he hadn’t come to orgasm himself, as evidenced by the continuing erection that still nudged her center and the slight panting that emanated from his parted lips.
“I’m okay,” he said, raising his head upward a little to kiss her softly.
He was not okay, she could tell. He was frustrated, sexually, and trying not to show it. “Oh, no, you don’t. I’m not going to make a fool of myself with a one-sided sex show, and you just lie there like a loaf of bread.”
“Are you kidding? It wasn’t one-sided at all. I got as much pleasure as you did. Well, almost. And I participated, too. In fact . . . oh, Lord . . . what are you doing?”
She’d slid down so she was sitting on his thighs and was in the process of unzipping his jeans. Parting the pants, she could see a sizeable erection through the thin cotton of his briefs.
“Someone’s happy to see me,” she said and ran her fingers from his balls to the tip of his penis.
He said a foul word as he arched up and moaned.
“Did that hurt?”
“Hurts so good,” he gasped out. “Do it again.”
She stroked him then, varying her hold on him and the pace of her movements. She didn’t know about him, but this wasn’t enough. They didn’t dare remove their clothing, though, for fear they would be called to action quickly.
Finally, he put a hand over hers and said, “Stop. I can’t ejaculate.”
She sat back on her knees and asked, “Why?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the long years of celibacy, and my cock doesn’t know how anymore.”
“Bull!” she said, and quoted him that old saying about never forgetting how to ride a bicycle.
“I think this is a little bit different,” he said, but he was smiling.
“Are you sure you didn’t take Viagra? Don’t they warn about four-hour erections or something?”
“No, Regina, I haven’t been popping any little blue pills. And I won’t be having a four-hour erection, either. I’ll go take a cold shower in a few minutes. There’s probably only cold water left anyhow.”
“Maybe the injuries from the barbed wire have made you permanently . . . um, impaired.”
“Maybe,” he said doubtfully. “If we were in a different place and had more privacy, I’d damn sure keep on trying but . . .” He shrugged again. “Don’t worry about it.”
Regina glanced at the watch on her wrist and pressed the button to light the dial. Nine o’clock. They’d been fooling around for an hour. “It’s another hour until your outside shift,” she told him.
“I don’t think I could fall asleep again. In truth, I don’t need—”
She interrupted him. “You know, Zeb, I can go from naked to fully dressed and armed in a minute. How about you?”
“Forty-five seconds.” He smiled when he realized her meaning.
She smiled back at him.
They were both bare-assed (and I mean that literally) naked within thirty seconds.
As time goes by . . .
This was not a good idea.
In the twenty-seven and a half seconds it took him to remove all his clothing, Zeb thought:
I could be jeopardizing my future as a vangel.
But she’s my wife . . . or as good as.
I didn’t think so before.
If I do this, will it be the same as giving my consent to a lifemate marriage?
Haven’t I already done that?
Yes, but reluctantly.
Am I suddenly not reluctant?
Definitely, when it comes to sex. Not so much when it comes to marriage.
Is there still a chance Michael could be convinced to ditch the marriage idea once this is over?
Maybe.
Even if we have sex?
Make up your mind, man.
His mind was made up for him when he glanced over at Regina who stood, naked as a jaybird (whatever the hell that was), proud as a Norse goddess with her red hair loose from its ponytail and forming a nimbus of red flames about her head. Or was she Xena Warrior Woman? Or that Celtic Queen Boudicca, who was rumored to have knee-length auburn hair and led an army against the Romans? No matter!
Regina was more voluptuous than he’d expected, covered as she usually was with loose clothing. Breasts which were ample but high and firm. Nipples a rosy hue, matching her kiss-bruised lips. And, yes, her hair was red down below, too. A trim waist. Wider hips. Long, muscle-toned legs. And, oh! Lookee, lookee! Sweet curved buttocks that begged to be cupped in male hands, his, in particular.
The die was cast.
He was a goner.
If he was stuck with this woman forever, so be it, and God bless.
“Are you done ogling me?” she sniped.
He smiled. Even when aroused, she maintained her snarkiness.
“Not nearly enough. Turn around.”
“No way! You’re wasting time, Zeb. Five minutes have gone by already. Your clock is ticking.”
“More than my clock is ticking,” he said and palmed himself.
“Crude lackwit!”
“And yet you want me,” he teased. Then, before she could snark some insult back at him, he closed the few feet between them, picked her up by the waist and tossed her onto the bed. Then he crawled up and over her, making sure he spread her legs in the process, and he pressed her arms over her head by lacing their fingers.
“I’ve got you now,” he said, raising his upper body so he could look down at her.
“The question is: What are you going to do with me?”
“Everything,” he promised.
And he did.
That same fog of cinnamon rain seemed to swirl around them, and he could swear that hazy blue wings sprang up from Regina’s shoulders. He wondered if the same were coming from his shoulders. “Do I have hazy blue wings?” he asked her.
She nodded, still stunned by his tossing her onto the bed. Or maybe it was his erection which stunned her, as it continued to grow between her legs, as if it had a life of its own.
Forget his penis. For now. There were increasing signs that he was becoming a vangel, or already was. The haze of wings being the latest. A sudden thought came to him. “What color are my eyes?” He widened them so she could see better.
“Blue, I think.”
There was light in the room, but it was dim. Maybe she was mistaken.
“Are you sure?”
She peered closer. “Yes. Sort of blue. Blueish gray, I think.”
Hallelujah! His eyes had been fluctuating between brown and blue, but now mostly blue. He would have done a high five if his hands hadn’t been otherwise occupied.
He relaxed with relief, or as much as he could relax being nude with a lady who was also nude, and his cock resting in her happy place.
But then, he noticed something else. All his senses were heightened to a remarkable extent, he realized. Like smell. And it wasn’t just the aroma of coffee which still brewed in the far-off kitchen, or the spicy cinnamon scent of his bed companion, but also the shampoo Regina must have used on her hair, plus the natural scent of her skin heightened by his Irish Spring soap, and her woman musk. He could even discern his own fresh rain body odor. “I love the way you smell,” he said, nuzzling her neck. He would sniff her down below, too, but he was pretty sure she would smack him. This early in the game, anyhow.
He was studying . . . okay, playing . . . with her breasts with his one free hand (the other arm now being braced by the elbow beside her head), but was able to talk at the same time, multi-tasker that he was. “That would be interesting . . . if rain is now a sexual trigger for you. Really, Regina, think about the possibilities. You wouldn’t be able to help yourself from seeking me out every time a storm comes.”
She smacked him playfully on the shoulder. “That’s not what I meant.”
When he pressed his lips to hers, he murmured, “You taste like hunger.”
“Does hunger have a taste?” she asked, licking one of his fangs.
He saw stars, figuratively speaking. Fangs had to be the most erotic of the erogenous zones on a vangel body. “Yours does,” he squeaked out.
His sense of hearing was also especially tuned now. In fact, he could hear distant conversations, even through the half dozen walls separating them. And the burbling of the coffeemaker in the kitchen. The rustle of the sheets. And Regina’s softest sigh.
“Are you ready?” he asked then.
“I was ready ten minutes ago.”
Snark, snark, snark. He swore to himself then that he was going to love the snark out of her. Not love-love, he was quick to amend. Making love-love, as in screwing. Whew! That was a close call. He might have said that aloud.
He proceeded to examine and worship her body, every inch of it, from her forehead to her pretty, long toes, and all the interesting places in between. The curve of her neck. The muscles in her upper arms. Her breasts which were gorgeous, simply gorgeous. The sweetest navel he’d ever seen, tiny and inverted. Her pubic curls that were soft as a baby duck’s down. The delineation of muscle and sinew in her thighs and calves.
Then he rolled her over and did the same to her back, from nape to heels and all the interesting places in between. Her shoulders, which did indeed have swirls of a blue haze rising from the bumps. The small of her back. The swell of her buttocks. The dimple at the top of the crack. The crease behind her knees.
When he put her on her back again, he thought she would berate him for wasting time, but instead, she said, “Have you put a spell on me?”
“You’re the witch, Regina. You’re the master of spells and curses. I’m equally ensorcelled, you know.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “In fact, remember what you said before about bicycles?”
“Yes,” she said hesitantly, confused by his question.
“It’s true.” He rubbed his erection along her thankfully slick channel. “A guy never forgets how.”
“To ride a bike?”
“No.” And he used a graphic word to explain what he meant.
“Then why are we talking?”
“Sweet snark,” he growled, then lifted her hips and entered her with one long thrust. All the way to heaven, or so it seemed.
She welcomed him with rhythmic grasps, all along his length. Inside her tight sheath lined with warm honey, her inner muscles shifted and moved to accommodate his size.
It had been a long, long time since Zeb had been inside a woman, but it had never been like this. And it wasn’t just years and years of celibacy that made him think so. He wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, but he recognized that this wasn’t just sex.
He got down to the serious business of love play then. With both elbows now braced on either side of her head, he was able to kiss her at the same time that he began his long strokes. In, deep, deep, deep, slow, slow, slow, then out almost completely. In again, a little faster, but still slow and deep, but not so deep. Over and over, he completed his strokes until he was pummeling her with short, hard thrusts.
He tried to mimic the sex act with his tongue, but lost his rhythm when she began to suck on him. He gazed down at her, and was further stimulated when he saw the fierce arousal on her face. I did that, he thought with inordinate pleasure. She is excited by me.
He wasn’t sure if he would be able to come to orgasm this time. He felt like it, but he couldn’t be sure. He would be embarrassed if he had any sense left at all, which he didn’t. Two weeks ago, if someone had predicted he would be having hot sex with a vangel witch, he would have said they were crazy.
Regina grabbed his head. He thought she wanted to play with his bald head. It seemed to fascinate her. And, frankly, he was discovering that the stupid hairless pate had some of its own erogenous zones.
But, no. Sly wench . . . uh, witch . . . uh, woman . . . that she was, Regina not only had his head in her hands, but was tilting it to the side. Then she did what vangels did instinctively. She fanged him, and sucked softly on his neck.
Every one of the heightened senses in his body exploded. He might have hollered. Leastways, he knew for sure he groaned, real loud. It was the most intimate thing any woman had ever done to him. It was especially stimulating because he was buried in her to the hilt. And then . . . miracle of miracles . . . he was ejaculating like he hadn’t in at least three hundred years.
Regina withdrew her fangs and arched her hips up as she surrendered to her own powerful climax. When she was done, she just stared up at him. For once, no snarky remark at the ready. She appeared both stunned and a little frightened at the same time.
He felt the same way.
He wanted to ask her what all that fanging combined with spectacular sex was about. Did it happen every time a vangel had sex? If so, wow! That had to be the best kept secret. Instead of questioning her on the subject, though, all he could come out with was, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” she said, running her hands over the numerous welts across his back.
As he dressed then for his shift, he realized that only forty-two minutes had gone by since they’d started this madness. With three minutes to spare.
So much had happened.
It was not nearly enough.
For his sins, he couldn’t wait until the next time.
Did he have regrets?
Not a single one.
Yet.
Chapter 16
In the midst of battle, a man’s mind turns to . . . sex? . . .
The next day, the Lucies returned. A whole horde of them in demonoid form. Thirty at least. She didn’t know if that qualified as a horde or not. Scary beasts, to be sure. But Zeb, Regina, and their forty-some vangels were ready for them.
Zeb assured them that these weren’t high-level Lucipires, ones who would have had many, many centuries of experience and therefore unimaginable strength. These were only hordlings and imps, with a few huge mungs thrown in. That didn’t mean they weren’t frightening in appearance and dangerous. Still, things could have been worse. Jasper, and his commanders, probably hadn’t expected any vangels to have remained at Gloom.
The whole battle took only a half hour before the Lucies began to retreat again, but the vangels couldn’t allow that. Not again. Zeb led a contingent to follow those escapees, while Regina and the remaining vangels took care of the few demon vampires left. Slime city!
Zeb was almost fanatical in his fighting, swinging his sword right and left, never pausing before he moved forward. Regina guessed that he was trying to chalk up points in favor of his becoming a vangel, or staying a vangel after their indiscretion. Or maybe she was underestimating him. Maybe he was just that powerful of a warrior. After all, he’d been doing it for almost two thousand years.
That number boggled Regina’s mind. Hard to imagine what it would be like to be a vangel for that long. Even harder to imagine the horror of being a demon vampire for so long. She couldn’t help but admire Zeb for rising out of that mire of evil and filth, wanting to be a better person. Or leastways a vangel. He must have felt like he was sinking in quicksand for centuries, unable to move anywhere but down. Michael had thrown him a rope.
Zeb wasn’t the only one who’d been yearning for change. In truth, if Regina had ever wished to be part of the vangel fighting f
orces, her wish had more than come true. She’d tossed more knives and shot more bullets and destroyed more Lucies in the past twenty-four hours than she had her entire vangel life. The stink of Lucipire was firmly lodged in her nostrils, the sight of red eyes, super big fangs, scaly skin, claws, and tails was imprinted on her brain.
They’d tidied up the scene at Gloom, now renamed Glory, the volcanic cave in Greece, after wiping out the thirty Lucies who’d returned to the scene. A few more vangels had been injured and one was lost to Horror in the process. The sooner all the vangels got to that arctic castle the better, not just to destroy Jasper once and for all, but to save the vangels who’d been taken in not just the Gloom/Glory endeavor, but the other missions as well. Regina figured it must be close to fifty by now.
By noon, they were preparing to shut the cave down. Regina had no idea if any vangels would ever return here. When they turned the lights out, going out the door, the lights might not ever be turned on again.
Zeb told her that he didn’t care one way or the other, which was amazing, considering how much work he’d put into it. “This place holds too many bad memories for me.”
Regina had to wonder if he included their lovemaking in the bad memories category. She had to be realistic. He must have regrets about what they’d done. After all, he had the most to lose.
And, yet, she’d noticed him watching her at various times during the day, even during brief breaks in the fighting. And there didn’t seem to be regret in those stares, more like confusion, trying to figure her out. He was remembering.
Just like she was. What had come over her? What was continuing to plague her about the man? She caught herself checking him out, too. But she knew exactly what intrigued her. The man had hidden talents! And she might have initiated the action last night, but he’d enjoyed himself, too. She was sure of it! Men couldn’t fake that.