by Jackie Ivie
“N-now what?” she asked.
“I grant you time to explain.”
She pulled in a long breath to answer. It sounded like a gasp to her ears. And – damn everything – she even stuttered. “L—l-look. Um. A-Anso? I—. This is not a chastity belt. Okay? I’m not a virgin. This is a girdle. I’m wearing it to create...um. Womanly curves! You know. To make me look...thinner.”
Her voice fell off. It was his fault. His frown deepened, and now he looked angry. Almost scary. And those fangs of his were white. Long. Sharp. Impossible to miss. And incredibly sexy. He breathed in huge gulps of air as he glared up at her, and exhaled them just as harshly. She watched his eyes roam the length of her body. Back to her face. Her heart sank. He was going to deny her, laugh at her, turn away…
Then the expression in them changed, softened, warmed as he looked upon her.
“You are sconi! Wein. A gimma. Your taste is so suozi! Sweeter than honag. You are beyond perfect! You hear me? Your brust are—! And your arsebelli is—! You are the epitome of gisunt!”
“Wh-what does...all that mean?”
Her whisper barely made sound. He tossed back his head and yelled something completely unintelligible. The view was unbelievable. His chest darkened. Striations welted across pecs. Upper arms. Abs. Veins lifted in his throat. Several things throughout the room rattled, and some of the lighting disappeared as if candles were blown out. And the throbbing sounds got even louder, swelling in accompaniment to his voice. Depth. And intensity.
He lowered his head. The hungered look he gave her stole her breath. Took her wits. Scrambled her innards.
And then his body slammed against hers.
“You were warned, wiblih.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Anso should have used English, but he’d felt such a spark of anger at her reasons for wearing such a garment, followed by a flood of warmth as he realized she meant them, that it nonplussed and confused. He’d reverted to ancient Germanic words she wouldn’t even understand. He’d explain later. Right now, he had a goddess in his arms, a bed at his feet, and a heated, heavy, almost painful problem at his groin.
He’d used incomprehensible words, but it was the best he could manage. She dared denigrate her beauty? Her softness? Her womanly form? He would never understand women! She’d have been the favorite in any king’s harem, including his.
He only wished he had the right words, the words from his heart, to tell her!
His mate’s taste was sweet, true, but far sweeter than any honey. She was a vision of the perfect wiblih. Her hair was a dark brown shade, interspersed with strands that carried a magenta tone...like that of dried blood. Her eyes were a clear, light green. They fascinated. Intrigued. Entranced. He could get lost in her gaze. No wonder his enthralling power didn’t work with her. He was powerless against such beauty. Gazing into Leah’s eyes was an experience of wonder, as if he’d found the gateway to everything he’d lost. It was pure zoubar – magic. She gave him back liben – life. Lioban – love. And he mustn’t forget. He had physical prowess back! He had the ability to semantwist again! His gimaht stood hard and proud and extended for her – because of her.
She truly didn’t understand.
She was everything to him.
She called herself full-figured? Wore some tortuous-looking garment to create womanly curves? The woman needed better mirrors. She was a goddess! The image of health and beauty! Her body was that of his dreams. She had a lace band about her brust that didn’t do a thing to cover them. Her breasts were full. Large. Topped with little rosy nipples the lace didn’t hide. That bosom of hers demanded more than a look. His mouth had actually watered. And that was before he factored in her thighs?
The woman was crazed.
His mate was lush. Entirely womanly. The garment she wore didn’t detract from a view of thighs so amply curved, perfectly rounded, and deliciously firm, he longed to drop to her feet and beton. That is what a man did when gifted with such a banquet of perfection.
He worshipped it.
Anso held her against him with one arm, pressing her softness close despite how it mangled his effort at self-control and sent massive ache through his groin. He shook as he yanked the embroidered coverlet from the bed, revealing sheets of pristine silver-shaded silk. Suffered a succession of tremors as he placed her reverently atop the sheets, looked at her perfect body for another moment...fought the urge to crush himself against her again.
And lost.
With a groan Anso launched atop her, wrapped his arms about her, and rolled, pulling her atop him, so that he could shove the lacy contraption off of her bosom, revealing exactly the perfection he expected to find. And lose his mind.
He delved into absolute heaven. Seized and held her breasts together so he could suckle both nipples into hard darts capable of piercing his tongue. The entire time Leah writhed atop him, tormenting him further with each wiggle she made against him. Every push. Each touch. He’d been off a bit. This wasn’t zoubar. Magic was too small a word. Her soft feminine cries added all kinds of sensations to the experience and Anso pulled back in order to voice his own cry of pleasure, only his sounded like a howl. Her thighs tightened about him and she moved, sliding into position to straddle his rod. A greater fire joined the almost-torturous pressure of her garment against him.
Her undergarments were the enemy.
And this was war.
Anso grabbed the lace center of her bra and ripped it apart. The entire thing sprang back to dangle from her arms as if catapulted. And then he was working at her foundation thing. But the more he pulled, the more it flexed and fought him. His efforts made the bed sway and rock. Her breasts moved in accompaniment. Anso shoved his head back into the mattress, and this time, his howl was distinct for what it was – absolute and complete frustration.
“It’s...spandex,” she whispered.
“No. It’s hella.” He answered back, his voice a croak of sound. “And you are never wearing it again! Ever!”
”Says...who?”
“Me!”
The word reverberated through the chamber with the force he spoke it. All sorts of things rattled. Something fell with a crash. More of the fake candles fell from their perches, some going dim and extinguishing. Some came to rest on the floor, illuminating from there.
“I...think I...can get...it off.”
She dropped to his chest, smashing her glorious breasts against him. Anso didn’t control the jerk of reaction as he pulsed upward. She didn’t seem to notice. She had her cheek against his, her shoulders aligned with his, and her thumbs hooked beneath the garment edge. All so she could start peeling at it. The entire time she wriggled, bumping countless times against his erection, sending electrically charged stimuli each time that touched. Teased. And tormented to a level he’d never experienced.
Anso tightened every muscle. Sent the command. His canines weren’t the lone thing a vampire wielded. His fingernails grew. Became knife-sharp. Razor-honed. He half sat, unable to lift far without moving her, and then he pushed her hands aside to shove his beneath the garment. The material resisted momentarily, but failed to stop him. Within moments, he’d stuck his nails through and then he ripped downward, peeling the damn thing open down both sides.
Leah gasped. And then she was helping. Every move releasing more of her to his hands. Succor. Wonder. He concentrated to retract his nails, and his rod found her center. She was wet. Incredibly hot. At his touch, she stiffened and keened the most beautiful sound into existence. Anso went wild.
He spun, placing her on her back beneath him before her cry finished, and started pushing at her core. Her thighs enwrapped him, helping him. She was so tight. So incredibly hot. So lusciously firm. Her small cries accompanied each push. Every inch gained. Moist coils of tension gripped tightly to him, assisting and yet threatening. Anso almost lost his ability to pleasure her, as well. He tightened everything. Fought the distinct pressure already in place at his center. Grunted with the effort. Denied t
he instinct to thrust, and keep thrusting. Held back the urge for fulfillment. Shook with the effort. The entire bed rattled in accompaniment. She was so soft. So womanly. So welcoming. And at the same time, so tight he was actually afraid of hurting her.
“Anso—!”
His name on her lips held a hint of ire. Impatience.
“My lioban.”
The word was hissed through a jaw so taut, his canines grazed his chin, slicing skin. Opening cuts. He weakened slightly. Gave another push. Another.
And was finally there.
Deep within her.
Sheathed by a moist paradise of indescribable dimension. It enveloped. Caressed. Stimulated. Anso called on every bit of strength he possessed to stay immobile as she absorbed his size, holding back when everything on him demanded the opposite. Somehow restrain urges that hovered at the periphery of every moment that passed. A sob escaped him.
And Leah moved.
Her thighs tightened about him and she pushed, shoving down into the mattress, sliding a bit from him. At her return Anso grabbed fistfuls of bedding, shredding the silk. All for an anchor so he could thrust, and there was no stopping this time. She was too perfect. The sensations too viciously delicious. He pumped, thrusting his entire length into her. And back out. Again. And again. Over and over. His movements grew wilder. Fuller. Pushing him seemingly endless amounts deeper. More. Again. And the entire time, she matched his rhythm with words that thrilled. Encouraged.
And ignited.
“Oh. Oh. Anso! Oh. Oh!”
Power filled his veins. Force propelled his moves. The mattress jumped in cadence. The bedposts creaked in accompaniment. Matching his every push. Each move back. The return thrust. Over and over. Each one going deeper. A sob caught at the back of his throat. He swallowed it back, yanked the bedding down to gain more solidity so he could push even harder. Stronger. Faster.
Leah screamed.
And Anso exploded.
His mouth opened. He roared. The sides of his mouth split with the depth and volume of it. The force of his release propelled them upward. Well above the bed. Leah’s legs clenched tightly to him while he had his arms wrapped about her, clutching her close as his body pulsed through wave after wave of the purest pleasure. It was beyond scope. Nearly impossible to imagine. Perfect bliss snatched at him. Grabbed tightly. And then claimed ownership. Every prior experience he’d ever had in semantwist got annihilated. Blasted into oblivion. And overwritten by something that sent a stab of tears to his eyes.
Mating had been described in basic words to him. This act of love had been mentioned. There hadn’t been anything said about how deep the feeling would be when it hit. Nor how beautiful. She was watching him as the pleasure started ebbing. Any power he claimed started evaporating. With very little warning. There was a gloss of moisture atop her eyes, illumining them into green-shaded pools of mystery. She smiled. His heart gave an almost painful surge. He didn’t move. He didn’t dare.
A shadow of something that could be doubt crossed her features. He wouldn’t allow that. Anso returned her smile. He should have waited. That simple gesture drained the last vestige of his strength. They dropped. He spun just before they landed, taking the brunt of it on his back. The mattress jounced with their arrival before resettling.
And that’s when he started laughing.
CHAPTER SIX
Something was seriously wrong here.
She hadn’t awakened.
Leah wasn’t thinking of being jolted to awareness by an alarm, or a phone, or some other outside interference. The dimensions of this fantasy should have triggered wakefulness. Dreams were not this vivid. Not hers, anyway. She’d never encountered anything like this. The pleasure hadn’t just been orgasmic. That might have been in an acceptable range. No. What she’d just experienced was earth-shattering. Foundation-shaking. Almost scary.
This couldn’t be a dream. It really might be a drop off the cliff of sanity. And sooner or later, even hallucinations had to end. Reality was going to intrude. That was going to hurt. She wondered if there was some way to mute this dreamscape down any. Keep it from being so damn big.
What a misnomer.
She wasn’t just dreaming big here.
This was over-the-top enormous.
This vision was one for the record books. Of course, she’d have to tell someone about it first.
Oh! What an impossible concept! How could she describe the most gorgeous guy she’d ever seen? That was already huge. She needed better words, but couldn’t think of any at the moment. He was beyond handsome. Built. Perfectly formed. And he knew exactly how to use it. Everything about Anso was large. And that laugh of his! Holy crap. The guy had a deep booming laugh that sent echoes through the rooms as it faded. Big didn’t even begin to describe the enormous bed that had just materialized for her either, nor a mattress up to the challenge of some really big lovemaking moves...with a lot of thrust and power behind them. She hadn’t even factored in the weight. She mustn’t forget that. She wasn’t a stick-thin woman, but Anso was beyond heavy. The guy rocked some solid muscle. That equaled a lot of poundage. Even now, he dented the mattress so that her body stayed suctioned to him – not that she’d have moved.
Perish that idea! Move? No way. She’d never felt more cherished. More desired. More beautiful. Nor more womanly.
Ever.
Too bad it was all in her mind.
She must have felt more emotion over her break-up than she’d thought. Stuffed it deep into her psyche where even she didn’t notice. And, while it was bad timing, it was possible. Deep-seated emotional trauma could trigger Generalized Anxiety Disorder that could be followed with a Delusional Disorder. That diagnosis might fit her predicament. Only this delusion wasn’t frightening or sinister, like some of her patients had described to her during therapy sessions. Leah was living her very own perfect private paradise. And that’s when she made her decision. It might be a mistake, but if this was just a Brief Psychotic Disorder, she was staying in it as long as possible. The psychologists at the convention could all take a flying leap off the historic Charles Bridge.
One-at-a-time.
Steven included.
That thought raised a chuckle. Leah stifled it with a swallow before it made sound, in case that altered anything. Everything was too incredibly wonderful. She probably glowed. She had to get everything committed to memory. Locked away. Safe. Secure. Secret. It was her possession. To pull up and savor whenever she liked...and especially when life grew especially lonely and bleak. She mustn’t stop at the things she could see, touch, and smell, either. Oh. Hell no. There was a whole level of things happening here. Emotions. Passions. A treasure-trove of sensations. Beyond huge. They’d been gigantic. Unbelievably intense. And absolutely incredible.
She didn’t even dare open her eyes. She’d had them shut since Anso fell onto the bed. She hadn’t looked when they’d dropped back down. She didn’t have to see where she was or guess what position. Anso had his arms locked about her, holding her to him. They were even still joined. His body occasionally suffered a tremor. Each time, the area around her heart warmed rapidly and markedly. As if she felt something beyond lust for him.
Uh oh.
That idea was even more fantasy she didn’t want to analyze. Not until later. Much. Much. Later.
“Lioban?”
Her man was calling.
Leah opened her mouth to answer and then shut it. What in the heck? Her man? She did not just think that. Oh no. No. No way. Not her. Leah was a confident, self-employed, highly sought after psychologist. She didn’t have any Gender Disorder Issues. On any level. And she wasn’t allowing any man to upend—
“Leah.”
Breath touched her forehead. His arms tightened. Her heart pulsed almost painfully within her breast. All signs of real trouble. She did not feel anything for him! She didn’t. She couldn’t. She refused. They’d just met. Had fantastic sex. And—
“I know you can hear me.”
&nb
sp; Leah sighed and opened her eyes. Looked up. Her heart gave another solid thump. A lock of dark sable-colored hair had fallen forward, sending a shadow to his nose. Light sent a glint to each eye, visible as he blinked. She didn’t know their exact color. They were really dark. Mysterious. Deep. But it was the look on his face that stole her breath. She’d never seen such an expression.
Now, she knew how it felt to be adored, too.
He smiled. His expression softened even more. He had little lines at the sides of his eyes, lengthy ones in both cheeks – both signs that he smiled often. He wasn’t clean-shaven, but the scuff of whiskers added a rakish edge to his persona that he really didn’t need. The man was beyond gorgeous. He was absolute male beauty that had been given a physical form. Despite that, he didn’t seem to have any vestige of Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and he was the perfect candidate for that diagnosis. Not once had he preened or flexed, or even checked for his reflection in a mirror. And this incredibly gorgeous man was with her. She almost shook her head. It was as incredible as it was unbelievable.
“You are all right? I did not hurt you?”
“What?” Leah blinked several times with the surprise. The man had given her perfection. She might be tender, but it was a delicious feeling. She wouldn’t trade it for anything. He grunted.
“I am a large man. And you are a very small wiblih.”
Leah snorted. His smile faded slightly, while his brows drew down.
“You laugh at me?”
“No. I just—. It’s just—. Um. Men have called me a lot of things...over the years. Small...is not one of them,” Leah whispered.
He glanced down to where her breasts were smashed against him. His entire body shuddered, shaking hers with it. He had it conquered before he returned his gaze to hers. Leah’s heart smacked into her throat with a hard pulse that choked before it subsided.