As her fingers twined in his hair, warm at the nape of his neck, the cushion of wings brushed her wrist bones. His hands were under her cloak, stroking her skin, learning her.
His total attention absorbed her. She'd had adversaries, or those who'd mistrusted her-which was everyone, except the foolish Anna-who watched her every move. She had to gauge their every reaction as well, being just as wary. This was so different from that. Her body was resting fully in the cradle of his, and her focus was on what those clever fingers would do next. She didn't have to think, be defensive...
Just for this moment...
As he was discovering her response to each unique touch, so was she, for no one had touched her like this before.
His fingers moving up her thighs curled something in her stomach, and even in her chest, making her shudder, making her thighs tremble and the flesh between them swell. The rush of air over the sensitive and still deliciously sore opening told her those lips were wet, needing again.
His other hand slid down her rib cage, tracing the bones there, then explored her hip bone, across to her navel, a tender outline, a gentle probe.
"You're not ticklish."
"No. I don't... What's ticklish?"
She felt that smile again. "You answered the question, sweet witch."
"You didn't."
"I'm not telling you, because you'll figure out a way to use it against me." He moved up under her breast, his knuckle sliding along it as she gasped, for his lower fingers pressed over her clitoris and then down, seeking that wet heat.
A star shot across the sky, ending its life as others burned with fierce brilliance, not conserving their light or worried about their end. And why would they, when they could have that final blaze of glory across a deep, dark sky? Where did shooting stars go?
He was tracing the lips of her sex, and as her legs tightened, his muscles did the same, shifting her wider, driving her backside down more intimately against his cock.
"Be still, baby. Let me bring you pleasure. I want to hear you cry out."
She couldn't breathe. How could she possibly scream?
He cupped her breast in his palm, those sensitive pads of his fingers caressing the nipple so it hardened further. Without her volition, her body tried to shift, press into the contact, and he shifted with her automatically, keeping them level, though taking them into a curved turn where she saw a creamy expanse of clouds beneath them.
"Oh," she said faintly, but fear couldn't find a foothold when his fingers eased into her sex and his thumb began a slow massage of that incredibly sensitive oblong flesh just above the wet opening. He had increased his grip on her breast as he made the turn, and now he held the weight solidly in his hand, his thumb rasping over the nipple, his skin the perfect coarse texture to provide friction to the softer flesh.
"David."
"You have the most perfect ass," he mouthed in her ear, his cock pressing insistently against her such that she couldn't help but flex the muscles against him, for what he was doing with his fingers was making it impossible for her not to move. She gave in to the desire now, lifting up, rotating, trying to squeeze on him as she rubbed herself against him. The cloak worked up so now her bare body was stroking against him through the thin stuff of the half tunic. The cold metal of his belt pressed into her lower back, adding a sharp edge to her need.
"Goddess." His breath left him in another groan that gave her a primal surge of delight. Then he moved across her sternum, forearm high on her breast, enough pressure just above her nipple to make her ache, strain for touch, as he caressed the flesh where another might have been. Her flesh quickened beneath his magical touch. She'd been so surprised to have the aching desire to be touched there, caressed. But had he yet discovered a place where she didn't?
"Oh." That building sensation again.
"You're getting close." His voice was harsh, almost guttural. "I want you to tell me when you think you're close, Mina. I want you to ask me before you go over. Let me prolong your pleasure."
Ask him... as in permission? Or was it a way to enhance this, as he said? Perhaps, for the idea of having to wait until he gave the word for it was daring, thrilling. She wouldn't mind feeling like this for eternity, mindlessly writhing on an angel's body up high in the firmament, his hands all over her, her arms linked around his neck, her legs spread open at his insistence.
The bar of steel in her back-not his belt-was a delicious pain, and said her compliance might be driving him as crazy as his dominance was driving her. She wasn't giving up anything; it was just temporary. Why did it feel so incredible, though? Dangerously... eternal.
"Oh..." A sharper cry tore from her throat this time as he changed his rhythm, worked her mons insistently, three fingers moving inside as well, the other hand clasping her chest. "I'm... David..."
"Are you close?"
"Yeesss." A long syllable, her body shuddering.
"Ask me, Mina. Make me harder; drive me fucking insane."
The words, dark and primal, so much of the flesh and things mortal, temporary, pushed her past question or rational thought.
"Please... let me go..."
"I'll let you come, sweet witch. I won't ever let you go. Come for me. Let me hear you."
She had a second to think-but we're not joined; he can't get any release from this-but then those wonderful, ruthless fingers shoved her over that edge and she was free-falling in a marvelous way. He made it more wondrous then, increasing the speed of their flight, soaring higher as she bucked against his body, her nails digging into his neck, her legs locked rigid around his legs as she spun through the air. He let her see the clouds and the sky, feel the glory of flying without the fear, and her scream became a cry of amazement as the stars and moon spun around her. It reminded her of her glass chimes moved by the water, dancing and singing around her.
His warm, solid body stayed along every inch of the back of hers, never altering, never making her feel abandoned or apprehensive. His powerful wings sent air currents over her face like the crashing delight of the surf. At last, at the most magnificent spasm, she had to close her eyes and let it shudder hard through her, bringing heat to parts that had always been cold, driving away pain with this rush of bittersweet, carnal pleasure.
When she could draw a steady breath again, her body was still jerking, small aftershocks that had her fingers and legs vibrating against her wishes. His hand left her with gratifying reluctance, but only to slide up her belly, so he could join the other hand in caressing the area of her breasts. Then he came out of the neckline of her cloak to find her hair. Twining it in his fingers, he tugged until she tilted her head and let out a soft, decidedly unlike-her whimper as he kissed her throat, teased her with a nip of teeth. Her lips needed the wet heat of his mouth. She needed too much.
As her body was settling, other things were surging up. The exhilarating flight through the air was about to turn and send her plummeting wildly to earth, spiraling back down into the blackness of her soul.
Please don't, she begged. Let me have this... Though she knew better than to entreat it. It was an enemy, and enemies mocked mercy.
"It's too much," she managed. "Gods, it's too much. I can't... I have to get down.
"David." It was an urgent cry. Since he'd turned the weaponry to lie along his back and hip for her comfort, she could feel the muscular expanse of stomach and chest beneath her, but now her fingers dug hard into his hip near the grip of the one weapon she could almost reach. Her clumsy seeking rucked up the edge of the short kilt so she found his bare thigh, the lower curve of buttock beneath her grasping fingers.
"It hurts, David." It was growing, a pain that seemed to be affecting her heart. Oddly, it hurt more than anything she'd ever felt, but a part of her wanted it to go on. She couldn't bear it. "Use it... please."
He'd told her she had to ask, and she mindlessly followed that compulsion now, just as she'd sought his permission to give herself release. There was no time or desire to make a to
ken show of independence. Survival of this passing wave was more important. It was like the ferocity of the Dark Blood, the insidious call of it, but different as well.
As if he stood inside her mind and knew exactly what she needed, he pulled the blade. In a stomach-dropping move, he swiftly brought them upright so she faced the division of terra from firmament in a panoramic view, the stars and moon a cold glitter over thickly layered storm waves of clouds through which she could see the earth below. Still there, still turning. Waiting.
The blade slid across her lower abdomen, just above the pubic mound, making her shudder, clench at the sensual, possessive implication. But as she felt the blood slip down her thighs, join her own fluids, a powerful release on the scale of the climax rocked through her, balancing the worst of the overwhelming feeling, easing out of her with the life fluid. When she put her hand over the sharp blade, she wanted to grip it, cut deeply into her fingers. Even though just that bare contact caused a cut. His hand was inevitably there, taking hers, even as his arm locked strongly around her.
"No," he said, with finality. "Only by my hand, Mina. Remember. Ssshhh. Deep breath. Be easy. You'll be fine."
And she was. He'd done it at just the right moment, and everything was okay. Except now the weariness she'd experienced just before their flight crashed down on her, the adrenaline sliding away. She was tired and weak, with an abruptness that suggested he'd somehow suspended time for her, so she could experience this first.
"All right?" he asked quietly.
She groped for a meaningful response. "You're still-"
"Don't worry about me. The pleasure was in watching you. Feeling you. Goddess." He passed a hand over her hair, discomfiting her with that tender gesture more than he had with anything thus far, then pressed another soft kiss to her temple, her hair. Her lips trembled open, still wanting. She swallowed, made them press together again.
"I've exhausted you," he said. "Let's get you on the ground."
The descent was somewhat of a hazy blur, but then they reached that sand spit where their first meeting had occurred, a far more volatile but perhaps less powerful encounter than what had just happened in the sky.
"Tide," she said muzzily.
"Won't be up for a few hours. Sleep, baby. I'll watch over you."
"Sing that song again."
As he adjusted one wing beneath her and laid her down, David saw her eyes had already fallen closed. Though he knew she slept almost immediately, he hummed the Stones song, the one that spoke to him still, with its rough yearning. He used tones and vibrations to enhance his weaponry skills, a practical magic. But every mother who'd hummed a baby to sleep, or a man his lover, as he was doing now, knew music possessed magic just by being. One of the few true unifiers. Like love.
He drew a deep breath at that thought, let it out. How long had it been since he'd been needed? Meaning that he had something unique to give to one being, who might look to him specifically for it. How much longer had it been since he believed he had the ability to offer such a thing?
I won't fail you, Mina. Cradling her in his arms and wing, he traced the scars along her face as she slept, still with a frown on her face. "Even if it destroys me this time. I won't fail again."
She muttered with endearing crankiness and curled up on her side to sleep, spooning back against him, gathering his arm into her body, holding it close. It tightened his heart, which confirmed the remarkable things he was thinking. Though he imagined her reaction to them would be nothing short of horror.
He watched over her for quite a while, the wind moving his feathers as he thought it all through. Then a smile curled his mouth. Extricating himself carefully, he rose and began to work.
Ten
MINA woke to see David at the water's edge, apparently enjoying the feel of the water rushing over his bare calves. Shifting to an upright position on the sand, she noticed she had some of his feathers sticking to her salt-spray-damp skin. Twisting, she discovered her sleep had been so deep, he'd been able to create her a shallow nest in the sand and line it with an extraordinary amount of his feathers to pillow her body, though his wings appeared as thickly layered as before she'd fallen into slumber.
Bringing her attention back to him, her heart caught in her throat unexpectedly. The rising sun was behind him, his wings spread to feel the full effect of that breeze, his hair fluttering back, teasing the bare skin of his broad shoulders. Gods, he was too beautiful. Angels were a source of fear and awe to all creatures who knew about them. But here was one who'd watched over her sleep with a quiet, oddly soothing presence. Sung to her. Kneaded her cramps, set her broken finger.
An angel who'd also taken her body and let her touch him. Who wanted her to touch him, though he'd given her a mind-shattering release and taken none for himself. The hard length of him was as vividly imprinted on her mind as it had been against her buttocks before he brought them down to the soft sand.
As he turned from the water, registering that she was conscious, her gaze coursed down the fine length of his body, clothed so briefly by that short half tunic. The weapons harness only accentuated the musculature of his back, the tempting lines of his waist and thigh.
She knew about basic anatomy and physical urges. Knew that many species of humanoid males woke from sleep in a naturally aroused state. She hadn't known it could happen to females, but as she stared at him, she knew what she wanted to do. Something that made saliva gather in her mouth and that inexplicable hunger stir in her belly.
She'd seen merwomen do it to mermen in the shadowy corners of reefs where they thought they were unobserved. She'd been intrigued by it but had not understood the compulsion, until now. Until David.
When he started up the sand toward her, she shifted onto her knees, watching his powerful grace. When he reached for her hands to help her up, she moved inside his grasp to lay her palms on his thighs. Far up his thighs.
David's jaw tightened in a manner that made her want to take a bite out of him, and her fingers curled in, gathering the hem of his tunic, her thumbs scraping his inner thigh, feeling the heat of him, even as she leaned forward and tasted the salt on his skin, just below the edge of the fabric.
"Mina."
Heat flared to life in his eyes as the near-violent reaction at his groin just above her head drew her gaze. She was darkly thrilled to discover it. When she breathed on him through the fabric, he caught her wrist in one hand, her hair in the other.
He wanted. Hungered for her. For her mouth. That could be simple lust, a man drawn by any female's stimulation. She had no experience and plenty of cynicism to relegate it to that. But she saw the struggle in his gaze between what he wanted and what he thought he could or should demand from her.
"Let me," she whispered, straining against his hold.
He closed his eyes, as if it was easier to speak without seeing her on her knees, her mouth so close to his eager cock. "I can't let you do this. I don't deserve this."
"What?" she asked. "This?"
Opening her mouth, she licked him, one firm, lingering stroke from the root to the head, even though she had to do it through the cloth.
"Holy Mother," he muttered. He caught both of her wrists then. "Mina, I need you to understand. You know that you don't... You don't owe me. No matter what you feel, or don't feel for me, I'll protect you. You understand?"
She hadn't asked for his damn protection, so why on earth would he feel she was paying for it in such a misguided way? Why couldn't she just want for the sake of wanting? Maybe he was trying to provoke her to anger, to drive her back. Maybe he thought that was the honorable thing to do. But the temptation at her lips, so close, the intriguing vibration of his powerful body as he restrained himself, meant that she was going to shatter his honor without remorse.
"I didn't ask for your protection," she said, resting her chin on his legs, rubbing her cheek over his groin, brushing his cock with her lips, taking a quick nip, liking the taste. "Don't need it. I think you're afraid."<
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Looking up into his eyes, she saw a deep shadow, something with the power to consume him, so much like her own it almost startled her. And yet her fingers inched higher. Intrigued, she held that dark gaze, pushing against his restraint. His grip was weakening. An all-powerful angel giving way before her insistence.
"I want to do this," she said. "I want you in my mouth. I didn't think about why, David. I just saw you standing there, and I could taste you, feel you, smell you. Don't deny me."
David swallowed as she leaned against his hold, her kittenish breath teasing his cock so that it was straining like a raging pit bull, wanting to take her down and devour her.
He ordered his brain to engage in something like coherent words rather than animal noises of approval. Jesus, he was a grown man, an angel. He had control with women, knew it was especially important with an inexperienced female. But then there was this position, her serving him on her knees. It shamed him that it could tear something loose in him like this. Something that made him want to grip her hair again, drive her down on him.
Easing his hold on her wrists, he muttered another oath. Mina nuzzled up the skirt, and his cock was there, free, hard, so erect the fabric bunched between his pubic area and the upright angle of it. She had to rise higher on her knees to reach the tip, and she did now, opening her mouth to envelope the ridged head.
Oh, gods. It was life itself, pulsing in her mouth. All the heat of the world, the rush of blood.
After having David stroking inside her, it wasn't hard to figure out that the same rhythm and heat might be the key to the pleasure of it. When his hand seized her hair, far less tentative now, an animal like noise coming from his lips, she went mindless with her victory. Sliding down on him, she took him as deep as she could, gripping the base. Squeezing, she explored the heavy weight of his testicles, the smooth flesh inside his hard thighs, the tender, protected skin at odds with the straining, bunched muscle.
A Witch's Beauty Page 13