by Anya Bast
He found her breast and closed his lips around it, flicking the nipple. Jack's cock jerked deep inside her, letting Mira know he was ready to come. She watched as he threw his head back, groaning her name. It was the most erotic thing she'd ever seen or heard.
Jack collapsed on top of her, still buried within her. She threaded her fingers through his silky dark hair, enjoying the feel of him skin-on-skin and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. His heart thudded against her breast, and his breath felt hot on her neck.
Her body still tingled with the intimate awareness of him, pulsing with the remnants of the multiple orgasms he'd given her. She'd never thought she'd be capable of coming twice in a row. Mira smiled, flush with a burst of happiness. She wouldn't mind trying for triples.
With a groan, he rolled to the side, leaving her staring at the ceiling, heavy lidded and still a little stunned. Delicious languor stole over her body. Never had she felt so sated after sex.
She turned her head and looked at him. He had his eyes closed and his arms thrown over his head. Smooth muscle rippled over the expanse of his chest. A light dusting of dark hair tapered into a trail that led down his hard stomach and surrounded his unbelievable cock, now lying half flaccid against his thigh.
Mira had the urge to take him into her mouth. She'd never wanted to do that with Ben, not voluntarily, at least. The few times she'd done it, she'd done it out of a sense of duty, and it had been more a chore than anything else.
But with Jack ... she wanted to give Jack as much intense pleasure as he'd just given her. She wanted to render him helpless against her tongue and lips the way she'd been just moments ago in his arms. She wanted to feel his body bow beneath hers as she slid her tongue up and down his length.
There were many things she wanted in this moment that she'd never even drought much about before.
Suddenly, Mira realized that her magick hadn't reacted to his, not once for the entire time they'd been together. She opened her mouth to ask about that, but Jack spoke first.
"Mira," Jack said raggedly. "I'm sorry." He pushed to his feet and went into the bathroom without another word.
Confused, Mira pushed up onto her hands. Sorry? Sorry for what? Making her scream in coital delight? "Jack?" she called, but he was already closing the door. A moment later she heard the sound of the shower.
She scowled at the door for a few moments, wondering if she should go after him or not. Finally, she rolled off the bed and stood. She walked across the room, tried the bathroom door, and found it open. Steam rolled out.
"Jack?" she called as she entered the room. He didn't answer, so she approached the shower door and opened it.
Jack stood facing her in the center of the shower with all the jets trained on him. His arms were up, fingers threaded through his hair, eyes closed. Her mouth went dry. He looked like a god standing there all wet and naked. She wanted him again already.
But she was pissed.
"Jack? You're a really moody son of a bitch, you know that?”
His eyes opened and she saw something in them for a moment—something dark and painful. It was gone as quickly as she'd glimpsed it. Like storm clouds rolling through on a summer day. In its wake, he didn't look so much like a luscious, drenched god as he did a lonely man.
She hesitated, then stepped into the shower and walked toward him. The comforting warmth of the water hit her, wetting her hair and skin.
Jack pulled her to him as soon as she was within arm's reach and held her against his body. He plunged his hands into her hair and buried his face in the curve of her neck.
Mira let out a deep sigh of pleasure, feeling him pressed against her and his arms around her. She let her hands roam his warm, wet muscled back and shoulders. "What did you mean?" she asked near his ear. "What did you mean ... you're sorry?”
He only forced her mouth to his and nipped her bottom lip, demanding she let him in. She opened her mouth and his tongue swept in to brush against hers. That same fire she'd felt in the living room rushed through her body. It was like Jack had opened some floodgate inside her. She practically had to stop herself from climbing his body and impaling herself on his cock.
Jack tangled his fingers through her wet hair and took her in a rough, near-bruising kiss, as commanding and overwhelming as the man himself. It left her breathless and her mind fumbling for coherent thought.
"Mira," he groaned ragged against her ear. "I want you again.”
"So, take me. I'm yours.”
"No condom.”
"Jack, if it's STDs you're worried about—”
"No." He shook his head. "It's near impossible for our kind to catch those. I'm worried about pregnancy.”
"Oh, that. Don't I wish. Jack, you know, Ben and I tried for years and never conceived. I don't really think that's an issue.”
He held her gaze for a moment before speaking. "Ben wasn't like you, Mira. Ben wasn't a witch like me. A witch and non-witch are damn near infertile. A witch and another witch on the other hand ..." he trailed off.
Realization dawned. "Oh.”
He nodded. "Very fertile.”
Well. That explained a lot. "But it's nowhere near my time of ovulation. I don't think there's any way I could possibly get pregnant this time of the month. I think we're safe." She curled her hands around his cock and pumped him until he groaned. "Jack," she whispered in entreaty. "Touch me.”
"Mira—”
"I'm all wet," she murmured coyly with a raised eyebrow. She slid a finger over one hard, pink nipple, gathering moisture, to prove the point, and then eased her hand down to catch his and place it between her thighs. "Everywhere for you," she finished.
Hunger flared dark in his eyes. He twined a hand to the nape of her neck, the other to the small of her back, and pulled her flush against his chest as he kissed her. His tongue burrowed past her lips, possessing her mouth.
His hand at the small of her back dropped to cup her ass, then slid between her cheeks where he delved his fingers deep inside her and stroked. Pleasure shot through her sex and she rolled her hips forward, seeking more of his touch. Every breath or slight movement rubbed her stiff nipples against his chest.
She ran her hands up his biceps, over his shoulders. They ate at each other's mouths, licking, sucking, and nipping— like they couldn't get enough of the taste of each other.
They weren't directly in the hot stream of the showerheads, but the spray of it had thoroughly wet them. Their bodies slid against each other—warm and slippery. He broke the kiss and worked his way down her throat to her nipples. He sucked on one while he plumped and caressed the other breast with his free hand. His lips massaged her hardened nipple and his teeth scraped gently across it. Jack worked it thoroughly, until Mira felt a surge of moisture between her thighs.
He licked his way down over her stomach and through the hair of her mound. Then he went to his knees, pressed his palms to her ass, and pulled her to his face. She felt his tongue flick out to lap up her juices and tease her clit in long, persistent licks.
Her knees went weak. She gasped and grabbed his shoulders to prevent herself from toppling over. He supported her by cupping her bottom, holding her with her thighs spread so he could feast on her sex. His tongue played leisurely with her labia, driving her crazy. Finally, he found her entrance and pushed inside. With agonizing slowness, he thrust into her with his tongue.
"Jack," she moaned.
He stood, cupping her ass, and lifted her, bore her back a few paces to press her against the tile wall of the shower. It was the living room redux, though now she thought Jack had every intention of fucking her.
Jack settled her over the head of his hard cock and rotated his hips, pressing against her opening. He rolled his hips forward and impaled her to the base of him. Her breath hissed out of her and she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Are you sure you want this, Mira?" he asked in a rough voice near her ear.
The muscles of her sex rippled and pulsed around his sh
aft, adjusting once again to the length and width of him. Mira nodded. "I want everything you have to give me, Jack." She kissed him.
They stayed that way for a moment, connected at the pelvis, their mouths working against each other's and the water coursing down their bodies. Then Jack cupped her rear and began to thrust.
Oh, yes, yes, yes! Now he would take her up against the wall.
She whimpered as his thick shaft slid in and out her. Her legs fastened around his lean waist and she gripped his shoulders to keep her steady. Water from the shower ran into their mouths as they kissed.
Jack pinned her to the wall, bracing her there as he took her harder and faster, his cock slamming up into her and totally possessing her, making her breath come in little pants.
Her orgasm came in a powerful wave that made her cry out. She threw her head back, closed her eyes, and screamed his name as she climaxed around his pistoning cock. Jack followed only a few seconds later with a shout that echoed through the shower.
Panting, Jack placed his forehead to hers. "Damn it, I like being inside you.”
She grinned. "The feeling's reciprocal, I assure you.”
He kissed her first on the forehead, then on the cheek, and finally on her lips. Then he released her thighs and let her stand. His cock slipped from her body and she felt the loss. "I can't resist you. Fuck, once I have you, I want you again. You're addictive," he growled.
His words should have pleased her, but they held an undercurrent of guilt... of remorse. The look in his dark eyes was the same. Like she was some sinful treat he knew he couldn't have, yet took all the same.
Jack McAllister was keeping secrets from her.
"Bring her in, Jack," said Thomas Monahan.
Jack stood with the phone to his ear, rubbing a towel through his damp hair. "Right away? It is urgent?”
"Not tonight. Tomorrow morning. There are plane tickets waiting for you both at Minneapolis-St. Paul International, first class, straight through to Chicago. We're sending men to watch your back, but they're going to hang out of sight unless they're needed. Anything else would just draw Crane's attention. He's been watching your place with a little more interest than we like. We think he suspects Mira is with you, and that means it's time to move." He paused. "How is she?”
Jack glanced toward his bedroom, seeing her walk past the doorway as she got ready to sleep. She plucked her nightgown from the foot of the bed and pulled it over her head. He watched the silk sheathe her body. How was she? Beautiful. Wonderful. Luscious. Delectable. Irresistible. Oh, by the way, I just made love to her twice.
"She's, uh, okay," he said in a voice too low to carry to Mira.
"Has she tapped her magick?”
"Yeah. I think once she has some more training your cousin is going to be able to kick some serious ass, Thomas. We tried some defensive magick today and she slid me halfway across the living room floor on the first try.”
Thomas laughed with pride. "That's that Monahan blood. Hoskins blood is pretty powerful too. Did she come to it easily? How'd she tap it?”
His questions were eager. Jack knew how much Thomas was dying to meet Mira. Family meant a lot to him, and Mira had pretty much been out of the fold since birth. "You didn't mention the strength of the affiliation between fire and air. My magick drew hers. She was unbelieving at first, as you'd expect, but once she felt it rise, it was all over. She came to it pretty quickly after that.”
Monahan went silent for several moments. "You just keep your hands off her, okay? I know you've got a weakness for beautiful women, but this one is special. I don't want you messing with her head, got it?”
Too late.
"Yeah.”
"Okay. Be at the airport at 7 a.m. Go to the Northwest ticket counter to pick up your tickets. Your flight leaves at 9:09 a.m. Got it?”
"Got it.”
"Watch your back. I don't have to tell you twice. It would be best if you got her out unseen, but if you can't, the Coven witches I sent will be there to back you up. I don't want anything to happen to Mira.”
"Harm comes to Mira over my dead body," Jack replied vehemently.
"I know, Jack," Thomas said in just about the gentlest tone the man could manage, which wasn't very. "I know what this job means to you.”
Mira appeared in the doorway with a comb in her hand. Her hair fell over her shoulders in dark, damp skeins, and her beautiful eyes questioned him.
Jack held her gaze for a long moment. It meant more to him than Thomas realized, more than Jack had ever intended.
"Yeah," he answered, still holding Mira's gaze.
TWELVE
Crane regarded the air witch who sat in a slight stupor before him. Rage swelled from the mere pathetic sight of him.
They kept Marcus drugged with a low dose of Ketamine, which had the effect of a tranquilizer when introduced to a witch's metabolism, with only mild dissociative side effects. It was important to keep him mollified and a little confused since any air witch was dangerous, even weak ones like Marcus.
Marcus's hands were bound in his lap. He wrung them over and over, a clear sign of his agitation. As if the wide, wild eyes and gaping mouth weren't enough evidence of his mental state. He was kept a prisoner all of the time. They trotted him out when they needed the information only an air witch could provide.
Information like they needed now.
Crane had hauled Marcus to the frozen wastelands of Minnesota in deep February, all in order to see if he could somehow glean any intelligence about whether the woman resided in Jack's apartment or not. Mostly, Crane had received a big, fat nothing for his trouble, and he'd been worried he might have to admit David had been right about the witch not being at Jack's Minneapolis residence after all.
Then, finally, Marcus had heard something. The video and audio monitors in the room where they kept Marcus had shown him jarred from his sleep by some occurrence. The video footage showed him sliding out of the bed and trying to hide under it, obviously not happy that he'd gleaned information that Crane wanted and too addle-brained from the Ketamine dose to hide it well.
Crane reached out, grabbed Marcus's pudgy cheeks, and shook his head back and forth until his unruly black curls flew. "David says you heard something on the wind tonight, Marcus," he said. "You're going to tell us." He paused for effect. "Now.”
Marcus whimpered and rocked back and forth. "No, no, no, no!" he chanted. "I won't tell you. I won't!”
Enforced magickal servitude had driven Marcus a bit crazy, but it still hadn't broken him of these little ill-advised fits of rebellion.
Crane laughed. "Maaaar-cus," he sang softly. "Our wardbreakers have been unsuccessful, and that means I don't have time to play games. He stroked his fingers through his jet black curls, then clenched them hard and fast and yanked his head to the side. Marcus cried out, and spittle, an unfortunate side effect of the drugs, trailed out of the corner of his mouth. "Now tell us, like a good little pet air witch, and maybe I'll let you go back to your room and have a cookie.”
Marcus sniveled for a moment, and then clearly enunciated, "No.”
Crane sighed heavily. "Marcus, you know why we need to call the circle, correct?”
Marcus nodded.
"So you know I'll do anything in my power to gain an air witch to close it, yes?”
He nodded again.
"Then what do you think is stopping us from using you to close the circle?”
Uncertainty flashed through his brown eyes, chased by a dash of fear. Good.
"I'll tell you, Marcus. You're not very powerful, that's definitely one reason. Why, our little Marcus can barely call a light breeze, can he?" Crane laughed softly. "Damn those pesky genetics anyway. But the other reason, the far more important reason, is the cooperation that our Marcus gives us." Crane smiled. "Understand?”
Marcus nodded.
"When we need to know things that only an air witch can discover, our Marcus helps us out.”
He nodded again.
&nb
sp; Now they were getting somewhere. "If you want to keep your sizable ass out of that circle, Marcus, if you value your pathetic life in any way, you'll tell me what you heard right now. Otherwise, I'll substitute you for her and hope you have enough juice to close the circle. After your magick is bled out, I'll just find myself another weak air witch to mold to my pleasing.”
He whimpered and a tear slid out of his eye, but Crane kept his tight grip on Marcus's hair. "Okay.”
Crane released him.
He sniveled again and snot trailed out of his left nostril. Marcus wiped it away with his bound hands. "I heard a telephone conversation. It woke me up. I think there was a chink in the warding and some of it slipped out. I was so tuned on the apartment that I caught it on the air when it passed. The air witch is in Jack McAllister's apartment, but they're planning to move her to the Coven tomorrow morning.”
Crane smiled coldly at Marcus, and then turned to David, who stood near the door. "I don't care how you do it, you get those wardbreakers to find us a way in before dawn." He paused. "Tell them their lives depend on breaking that warding. If they fail, they'll die slowly and painfully. Got it?”
David nodded.
With the proper motivation anything could be accomplished. They had to get in now, because once she was at the Coven, she'd be nearly impossible to take. They could try to snatch her en route to the airport, but that was a last resort because it meant a public magickal showdown.
And that would just be crass.
Sometime during the night, Mira found her way into his arms.
Jack buried his nose in her hair and inhaled, letting the faint fragrance of her perfume infuse his senses. Her breathing sounded deep and heavy and her body felt warm against him. Jack closed his eyes and wallowed in it.
But this couldn't happen. Whatever this was that he felt for Mira, it had to end. Once she found out who he was, it would be all over. She'd hate him. How could she do anything else?
The last thing he wanted to see in her pretty eyes was fear or revulsion when she looked at him.