Mysteria Nights

by P. C. Cast

  “No,” she said breathlessly. She leaned back, propping her weight on her elbows. The plump mounds of her breasts strained beyond the bra. God, her curves were lovely.

  “Want me?” He barely managed to work the words past the lump in his throat.

  “Yes.” No hesitation. “Maybe I’m crazy, but yes.”

  “Good, because I want you. All of you, this time.” Fingers sliding under her knee, he lifted. His lips met the inside of her thigh, the cool stone of his necklace brushing against her, and she gasped.

  He kissed again, his tongue stroking closer . . . closer . . .

  Another gasp from her, followed by a shiver. “Hot,” she said, trembling.

  “Good?”

  “Very.”

  “Hunter told me you write romance novels.”

  “Sometimes. Kiss again.”

  Grinning, he obeyed, running his tongue to the edge of her emerald panties.

  “Oh, Goddess.” She fisted the sheets. He wanted those hands in his hair, holding on, holding forever.

  She was perfect for this bed—his bed—he thought, staring down at her. A bright flame against black silk. “Have you ever thought of me when writing a love scene?”

  “Yes.” As though she’d read his mind, she gripped his head and pulled him down for another intimate kiss.

  His cock throbbed at the thought, at the sight of her, at the taste of her, and he bit the inside of his cheek. Never had a woman appealed to so many of his senses. “What did you fantasize? What did I do to you?”

  “Consumed every inch of me,” she said, back arching, silently begging for more.

  The best kind of answer.

  Then she added, “We have one night together. I want everything I fantasized about.”

  One night. A muscle twitched underneath his eye. He didn’t like the time limitation reminder but let it pass. For now. “Did it turn you on, what you wrote? Did you touch yourself?”

  “Yes.” Reaching up, she thrummed her nipples. “Like this.”

  “No. Between your legs. Show me.”

  She lifted her head, her eyes wide and focused on him. Her hands ceased moving on her breasts. “Wh-what?”

  “Show me.” Desperate for another taste of her, he kissed the center of her panties. They were wonderfully damp. He groaned, his mouth watered. “I want to see what I’ve been imagining.”

  “Oh.” Slowly, so slowly, her hand slid down her stomach. “Like this?”

  Licking around the seam of her panties, he fisted his cock. “More.”

  Slowly, so slowly, her hand circled the apex of her thighs, teasing. “Better?”

  Down, he stroked. Up, squeezing tight. “Not yet.”

  He straightened; their gazes met again and held. “How about this?” Her fingers delved under the emerald lace. Her knees fell apart, and her lashes lowered. She cried out, hips undulating.

  Shit. She looked like magic just then. Magic he craved. Down and up he continued to work himself, the sight of her so erotic he knew it was branded into his mind for eternity. Touch her. Learn her. He’d never wanted anything more.

  “Stop,” he commanded.

  She stilled. Her eyes opened.

  He released himself and latched onto her wrist, drawing her hand away from her body. She moaned, bit her bottom lip. “My turn.” Leaning down, he lifted her fingers to his mouth and sucked one, then another inside. Her taste coated his tongue. “Like honey.” And he needed more.

  He laved his tongue inside her navel, gripping her panties and urging them from her legs. He thought she must have kicked them aside, because the bed bounced as he straightened.

  “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he said, fingers parting her wet folds. The thin patch of curls shielding her femininity were as bright a red as the hair on her head. Beautiful.

  “Do it. Please.”

  The desperation in her voice mirrored what he felt. He pressed her legs farther apart, spreading . . . spreading . . . God, so pretty. Pink and glistening. He lowered his head and stroked his tongue up the center.

  “Falon,” she cried.

  He circled her clitoris as he sank a finger deep inside.

  Her hands fisted in his hair just as he liked. “More.”

  Another finger joined the first, stretching her. All the while, he sucked and nipped at her. Had he ever tasted anyone so sweet? So addicting? Having her once wouldn’t be enough, he realized. He’d need her over and over again. In every way imaginable. He just had to make her crave more.

  As he licked her, he told her everything he wanted to do to her, how beautiful she was, how he needed her. Soon she was writhing, her head thrashing from side to side. He wanted to see her come. Had to see it, would die if he didn’t. And then she was. Her inner walls clamped down on his tongue as she gasped and cried and even screamed.

  He pulled from her, his gaze devouring her. Her eyes were closed, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip. Her skin was flushed. So quickly her chest rose and fell, lifting those rosy nipples like berries offered to a god.

  A long while passed before she stilled. When she did, her eyelids cracked open.

  He stayed just where he was, kneeling between her legs, cock rising proudly. “Like?”

  “Like.” She reached out and circled it with her fingers. “More.”

  A moan burst from his lips. “Glory.”

  “My turn,” she said, squeezing him tighter. “I want to taste you.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t want to come that way this first time, and if your mouth gets anywhere near my cock, I’ll come.”

  She urged him forward, and he was helpless to do anything but follow wherever she led. “I’ll stop before you come.”

  He found himself on his side. “No, you won’t.”

  She grinned slowly, wickedly and rolled him to his back. Like a sea siren, she rose above him. “Okay, I won’t. But you can try to force me to stop like the he-man you are.”

  God, the thought of her mouth on his shaft, hot and wet . . . her hair spilling over his thighs . . . His head fell back onto the pillow. “All right. But only because you insist.”

  She chuckled. “Such a martyr.”

  His cock twitched against her leg, her laughter as arousing as her touch.

  Now she gasped. “Mmm, what was that for?”

  “I like the sound of your laugh,” he admitted. He wanted to hear it. In the morning when he woke up, at lunch, at dinner. Just before bed.

  “Sometimes you’re as sweet as candy.” She crawled down his body until her lips were poised over him. Just like he’d feared, his already intense sense of pleasure revved to a new level. “Probably taste like it, too.”

  He hoped so. He wanted her to like him, this.

  “Tell me what you’ve fantasized about.” Her warm breath stroked him, teased him.

  He had to grip the sheets or he would soon be fisting her hair, and then there would be no stopping himself from coming in her mouth. “You. Doing this.”

  “What else?” She licked the tip, lapping up the glistening moisture already beaded there. “Mmm.”

  Shit. “Me, inside you.”

  Her teeth scraped the head, and he groaned at the delicious sensation. “What else?” she demanded. “Tell the truth, and you’ll be rewarded. Isn’t that how you like to work?”

  “Pounding, hot, hard, wild, screaming, you bent over, me taking you from behind. My fingers on your clit, working it. You coming over and over.”

  As he spoke, she sucked him down, up, down. Taking him all the way to the back of her throat. He barely managed to get the words out, but he kept talking. Anything to continue that delicious pressure. One of her hands kneaded his balls, the other glided up his chest and flicked his nipple.

  He felt attacked at every pleasure point, and he loved it. He was bucking, unable to slow his movements, close to the edge. If she kept this up, he really would—Shit, shit, shit. Falon grabbed her shoulders and jerked her up. Her lips were swollen and wet, s
he was panting, her desire clearly renewed.

  She moaned in disappointment. “I wasn’t done.”

  “Condom,” he said, the word more a snarl. “Now.”

  Her pupils were dilated, her cheeks flushed as she gazed around wildly. “Where are they?”

  Damn, where had he placed them? He searched, saw two silver packets resting on the floor. He’d thought ahead, thank God. He reached out, way out, grabbed one and ripped it open with his teeth. Motions jerky, he straightened and worked it over his length.

  His hands settled on Glory’s thighs and spread them as wide as they would go. Her wet, needy core was poised over his cock, just like her mouth had been. “Ride me.”

  “I thought—you said behind.”

  “Next time,” he said, and then she was pressing, he was arching, and he was all the way inside her, surging deep, taking all of her that he could get.

  Her head fell back, her hair tickling his legs. Her breasts arched forward, and he cupped the small of her back, jerking her forward. When those hardened buds abraded his chest, he growled out a, “Fuck yes.”

  “Feels so good.”

  “Kiss.”

  “Please.”

  He pounded in and out of her as their lips met. His tongue thrust inside, and she eagerly welcomed it, rolling it with her own. Their teeth clashed together once, twice, but that didn’t douse the intensity.

  Every other woman he’d ever been with faded to the back of his mind as if they’d never existed. There was only Glory. There was only here and now. Eternity—with her.

  “Falon,” she gasped, and he knew she was close.

  He reached between them and thrummed her clitoris. That was all she’d needed. She came in a rush, squeezing at his cock, crying his name again and again, nails raking his chest.

  He, too, fell over the edge. And when he came, it was the strongest of his life. Every muscle he possessed locked and released, spasming. Blood rushed through his veins, so hot it blistered everything it touched.

  “Glory,” he chanted, and it was a prayer for more. More of her, more of this.

  Now I’ve gone and done it, Glory thought. She was snuggled into Falon’s side, warm and sated—more so than she’d ever been before. He was asleep, his breathing smooth. Even in slumber, his hand traced up and down her spine as though he couldn’t stop touching her.

  I love him.

  There, she’d admitted it. She did. She loved him. Would have liked to spend forever with him. Making love, talking, laughing. Impossible.

  She was a witch, and there was nothing she could do about that. She possessed magic powers. That wasn’t something she could switch off. Not for long, anyway. And Falon would always fear her because of it, no matter what he claimed.

  All these months, she’d gagged every time she’d seen her sisters with their boyfriends. Her chest had ached, and she’d assumed the ache was from disgust not love. Now she was experiencing the emotion for herself. The ache for what could not be.

  Her eyes filled with tears. She loved Falon, but she couldn’t have him. Even though he thought he wanted more from her. He’d said as much before falling asleep. She hadn’t answered, hadn’t known what to say. But she could just imagine him cringing during their first fight, suspecting her of evildoing. She could just imagine the accusations he’d hurl at her every time something went wrong in his life.

  That would destroy her. Better to walk away now, as planned. It was the only way her heart could survive.

  Gingerly, Glory slipped from his body, from the bed. Her legs were so shaky she almost fell. Since she’d written herself here without any real clothes, she borrowed a pair of sweats and a T-shirt from Falon.

  Before she put them on, she held them to her nose and inhaled deeply. They smelled of him, like soap, dark spices, and strength. A tear fell. Once dressed, she walked to the edge of the bed. Still he slept soundly. Must not have gotten any rest these past few days. He’d probably feared she’d attack with her pen at any moment.

  What if things could be different? What if there was a chance they could make it work?

  He looked so peaceful. His dark hair was in disarray against the pillow. His face was flushed with lingering pleasure. The sheet had fallen, revealing the entire expanse of his mouthwatering chest.

  Who are you trying to fool? Make it work? Please. Those silly tears began falling in earnest. She was going to miss him. Taunting him, being with him, sparring with him, had been fun. He was witty, and he was warm. He was wild and protective and a lover who cared more about her pleasure than his own.

  His fingers flexed over the part of the mattress she’d occupied.

  Her heart stopped beating. One step, two, she backed away from the bed. Any moment, he would probably wake up. What would he say to her? What would he do?

  Doesn’t matter.

  Glory pivoted on her heel and stalked quietly from his house. They only lived a mile apart, and she’d traveled the forest many times before, so she entered the night without hesitation.

  She left her heart with Falon.

  Nine

  When Falon woke up alone, he was not happy.

  When he rushed to Glory’s house and discovered she had packed a bag and taken off, telling no one where she planned to stay, he was angry.

  When he drove around town, asking if anyone had seen her and found that no one had, he was beyond furious!

  Why had she left him?

  To punish him? He didn’t think so. They were past that point now, he knew it, and she wasn’t the type to do so without gloating—something he loved about her. Loved. Yes. He loved her. She was his woman, the other piece of him. He knew that now, and so there would be no more denying it. The fact that she was a witch didn’t matter anymore. He’d rather have her and her powers than be without her.

  Had she left because she was . . . scared?

  Yes, he thought. Yes. Well, he was scared, too. New relationships were always scary, but this one more so than most. They’d been at odds for a while. But they’d also just had the best sex of his life. Addictive sex. He’d just have to prove they could be together, that he wouldn’t hurt her, wouldn’t stop loving her. But how?

  You still have the pen.

  The thought slammed into him with the force of a jackhammer, and he grinned. He rushed back home.

  Glory was inside her Ford Taurus one moment and back home the next. Brow puckered in confusion, she gazed around. “What the hell?”

  Her sisters were sitting in the living room, reading Witch Weekly. They glanced up at the sound of her voice.

  “Oh, there you are,” Godiva said.

  “Where have you been?” Evie asked. “Falon’s been desperate to find you.”

  She gulped. Rubbed her stomach. Falon. The pen. Damn it! He was using the pen. Why, why, why? She’d almost made a clean getaway. Had almost given them a clean break. Clean. Yeah, right.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  She whipped around, eyes wide. Oh, Great Goddess. Was it Falon?

  Another knock, this one harder.

  “Well, aren’t you going to answer it?” Godiva asked.

  “Open up, Glory. I know you’re in there. I made sure of it.”

  Falon’s deep, dark voice filled her head, and she almost fainted. He’d truly come here. Why? He could have written her anywhere, but he’d written her inside her own home and knocked on her door.

  “Glory!” Evie laughed. “Don’t just stand there.”

  If he was going to ask—again—for more from her than one night, she wouldn’t be able to turn him down. She’d sobbed like a baby the entire drive away from town. In fact, her face was probably swollen and red even now. Where she’d been headed, she hadn’t known. She’d just needed to put distance between them, or she would have forgotten all the reasons to stay away and gone to him.

  “Please,” he said, and he sounded tortured. She could very easily imagine his hands resting on the door, his forehead pressing into the wood.

&
nbsp; Shaky legs walked her to the entrance. Her palm was sweating so she had trouble twisting the knob. What was she going to find? Slowly, she pulled open the only thing blocking the man she loved from her view.

  Falon stood there, wearing a trench coat and nothing else. Not even shoes. She blinked in surprise. So not what she had expected.

  “What are you doing here?” she managed to get out.

  Her sisters crowded behind her.

  “Looking good, Falon,” Evie said.

  “Nice,” Godiva said.

  His cheeks bloomed bright red, but his attention remained focused on Glory. “I want you in my life.”

  Her stomach twisted painfully. “That wouldn’t be smart. We’d fight, you’d hate me, fear my powers.”

  As she spoke, he was shaking his head. “You’re different from the other witches I knew, I know that deep down. Even though you had every right to be angry with me, you were never malicious.”

  “You think so now, but what about tomorrow? Or the next day?”

  Again he shook his head. “Not gonna happen.”

  “You can’t guarantee that.”

  “But I can guarantee that I love you.”

  Her eyes nearly bugged out, his words echoing inside her brain. “Wh-what?”

  “I love you.”

  Godiva gasped. “Oh my Goddess. Did you hear that, Evie?”

  “I’m standing right here. Of course I heard. Glory, what do you have to say to him?”

  “Give me a chance,” he begged. “I don’t deserve it, I know I don’t, but I’ll do anything to get it. I need you in my life.”

  She covered her mouth with a shaky hand. This was too much, too good to believe.

  He forged ahead. “You once came to my door, wanting a night with me. Now I’ve come to your door, wanting an eternity with you. I’m here, just as you were, in nothing but a coat. My heart is yours.”

  Okay, now the trench made sense. Dear Goddess, that meant he was naked underneath. Her blood heated with the knowledge.

  “Please don’t send me away. I need you. You’re a witch, yes, but I don’t fear your powers. After last night, I’m grateful for them.”

  “Oh, Glory!” Godiva brushed away her tears. “This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t send him away!”