My Dangerous Pleasure

by Carolyn Jewel

  When she opened her eyes again, Iskander’s irises had changed from blue to brilliant green. He went completely still, and her heart about leaped out of her chest at his intense concentration. Her fingers tightened on her shoulders. “What?”

  “Someone’s here.”

  “I don’t hear any—” The click of a door closing sounded like a cannon. Her head got cold.

  “Get dressed.” Iskander faced the door. She snatched at her clothes, shoving her legs into her jeans. She found her bra and got that on, then her T-shirt. Iskander found his jeans and put them on without fastening them. He was still erect, she noticed. He had not finished. He bent for his shirt but had to turn it right side out. Footsteps came down the hall, then stopped. Someone tapped on the door.

  “Iskander? Is all well?” A man’s voice. The door opened, and the mage Leonidas stuck his head inside. She ran her fingers through her hair and wondered if she was just making things worse.

  The mage looked in Iskander’s direction just as Iskander got his shirt pulled down. His eyes opened wide, and then he stared at something on the floor. Iskander’s boxers were on the floor by his bare feet. His gaze slid to Paisley, who stood by the desk, and there really wasn’t any doubt what she and Iskander had been doing.

  “You didn’t answer your phone.”

  “Oh, hey. Sorry about that,” he said after he had his shirt adjusted. He stooped for his boxers and stuffed them into his back pocket. He smiled like they were meeting under normal circumstances. “I got distracted.”

  The mage looked at Iskander, then at her. “Are you all right, Ms. Nichols?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  He frowned. “Nothing occurred to which you did not consent?”

  She knew she was turning about the same color as her hair. “No, sir.”

  Iskander picked up one of his shoes. “Fuck you, mage.”

  “Ms. Nichols, can I offer you a ride home?”

  “No, thank you,” she said. She still had her link to Iskander, and she knew just how angry he was at the mage’s implication that he’d forced Paisley to do anything. “Besides, I live with Iskander.”

  The mage leaned against the doorjamb. “You might be safer if you did not.”

  Iskander had both his shoes on by now, and he stood straight. “Thanks for your help tonight. I really appreciate it.” He put a hand out behind him and grabbed Paisley’s hand. “I’ll see you later. Right now, Paisley and I need to get home.”

  Leonidas ignored him. “I’ll tell Nikodemus what happened here.”

  “You do that.”

  “And that I think she ought to be living somewhere else.”

  CHAPTER 26

  11:00 P.M., Vallejo Street

  Iskander opened the back door for her, then walked in after her. He threw his keys onto the table by the door. They clattered onto the wood. “I’m hungry. He dropped a kiss at the outer edge of her eye. “Is there anything to eat in this house?”

  She pushed against his chest, relieved to have the conversation move to something she could deal with. “What kind of question is that? Is there anything to eat. Where do you think you are?”

  They went to the kitchen and she took things out of the fridge and the freezer. A little later, they were eating saffron chicken with rice while they waited for the custard éclairs from yesterday to come to room temperature. He cleaned up in the kitchen as usual, and that was nice, not having to deal with the dishes afterward. Especially since he did a thorough job.

  She put éclairs on a plate and headed to the living room. He grabbed her from behind and turned her around, pressing her back to the wall, the plate of éclairs between them. His fingers stroked her, a gentle touch; then he put both his forearms flat on the wall and leaned in as close as he could, drawing in a breath. “You smell great, Paisley. All butter and sugar.”

  “Iskander…” She couldn’t think what to say because her head said not to let this go any further while her body had completely different ideas about how the next few minutes should go. She picked up one of the éclairs and held it to his mouth.

  He took a bite and savored it, keeping his eyes closed until he swallowed. “Almost as sweet as you.”

  She fed him another bite. “You are crazy, bless your heart.”

  “Crazy for you, Paisley.” He leaned in to get another bite of the éclair she held. “Crazy for you.”

  She leaned her forehead against his chest and knew she’d give in to him. Whatever he wanted, he would get because he was just too delicious, and she couldn’t resist. She straightened, saw they were near a table, and put the éclairs on it.

  He reached over and took another one, but he held this one to her lips. “Come on, it’s fantastic. Have a bite. And don’t give me any baloney about a diet. We’re about to work off all those calories.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. He took his phone out of his pocket, turned it off for the second time tonight, and threw it onto the table next to the éclairs. “No one’s going to interrupt us here. If you’re still interested.”

  “Are you?”

  “What do you think?” He walked without letting go of her, backing her up again until her shoulders were pressed against the living room wall. He planted one forearm by her ear. His other hand rested lightly on her throat. His eyes glowed unearthly blue, and the longer she looked into them, the more convinced she became that something else was living there. Something very much not of this world. True, of course. His thumb pushed on the underside of her jaw so that her head tilted up. His touch was gentle, but she wouldn’t have expected anything else.

  “I love this.” His smile could melt glaciers. His voice was turning her into a puddle. “I love when you get naked and touch me and let me touch you. I love getting blow jobs from you. I love giving you head. I love fucking you.” He cocked his head at her. “Does it bother you if I use bad words?” She shook her head. “Good. That’s really good. If you want to do any of that right now, don’t be shy. I promise you, I will love it.” His thumb swept along the line of her jaw, slower now. Loverlike. The backs of his fingers came to rest at the side of her face. “Your skin is so soft. I could touch you all day. I love that about you, too.”

  Paisley drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It wasn’t possible to look at him and not think about how perfectly everything came together—the shape of his face, the lines of his body. His body radiated heat, warming her even where they weren’t touching.

  He kept smiling, but it was a different kind of smile than she was used to seeing from him. This one was full of secrets and edged with what struck her as madness, as if there were a whole series of logic threads he was following that were outside her ability to understand. That made sense, didn’t it? Since he wasn’t human. For all that his human form was so perfect, he wouldn’t think like a human, either. Not really.

  “What I want,” he said, “is nasty and dirty and involves you and me being naked again.” He held up the éclair. “You need to keep your strength up for what I want to do.”

  She took a bite of the éclair. “Hmm. It’s still a little too cold.”

  “More.”

  “Later. When they’re not too cold.”

  “We gotta do something while we pass the time.” He finished off the éclair himself, then bent his head so his mouth was by her ear. “I want to finish us both right now. Here.” He drew back enough to look into her eyes. Her stomach took flight. “That clear enough for you? You know what I want now, right?”

  She licked her lower lip, and his eyes followed the motion of her tongue. “Yes. I suppose I do.”

  He moved a hand from the wall, and the next thing she knew, his fingers were sliding under her shirt, and her entire body felt like she’d been electrified. His eyes were half closed, his mouth soft. “You know what would be hot, Paisley? Let’s do it here. Right here. Against the wall.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

 
“Hell, yes, it’s a good idea. It’s a brilliant idea. Genius idea.”

  She laughed despite herself.

  “See? Already it’s making us both happy.” He slid his hand farther up her stomach. With his head bowed, he pushed her shirt up to the point where she had to either tell him no or lift her arms. At the same time, he kissed her throat, up near her jaw. He tugged at her shirt.

  When he pulled her shirt up higher and just kept going, she lifted her arms. He reached behind her for the fastening of her bra and unhooked it. With his hands behind her holding the ends of her bra, he held her gaze. She melted. Between her legs she was wet and heavy. His attention flicked down and stayed there while he hooked his fingers through the straps of her bra and drew it off her. He did it slowly, too. Like he was teasing them both.

  The air around them got warmer. Paisley wanted him to slick his hands over her. She wanted to see his body. To touch him. To lick and taste and hear the sharp intake of his breath. He cupped her breasts, and the moment he touched her, she drew in a breath.

  “Oh, yeah,” he whispered. “Do that again.”

  She was losing it, she realized. She was going to lose any and all dignity with him. Iskander was touching her, and she couldn’t think of a time when she’d felt this kind of chemistry with anyone. Ever. He slid his fingers over her and she groaned. “I have spent too much time not staring at your chest when I talk to you, but hell, these are amazing. Did I tell you that before?”

  He kissed her throat again, a little harder than before, a nip that made her jump and then settle against him. Not that it was unpleasant. Just surprising how strongly she reacted to his mouth there.

  “You like that?” he said, drawing back a little.

  “Yes.”

  He let go of her to peel off his shirt and drop it to the floor. He dipped his head in and kissed her there again, his mouth soft, then not as soft, fingers around her hips, thumbs brushing over her waist, his chest pressing against her breasts. He pushed her back just enough to unfasten her jeans. “I get to unwrap you like a present.”

  He had her zipper down and his hands inside her pants, shoving the fabric down her hips and legs. She left off her exploration of the most perfect male body she’d ever touched to shimmy out of her pants and underwear.

  Iskander took a deep breath and shucked his jeans. The boxers he’d shoved in his back pocket fell to the floor. The blue stripe closest to the midline of his body went past his groin near to the dip into his thigh and continued down. She reached out and touched, running a finger from the dip of his hip upward.

  “Let me in,” he said. “Like before.”

  A pressure built in her head. She concentrated on Iskander, on relaxing herself, and then her chest flexed and he was there. Vivid. He brought her close and his kiss was hard and deep. His erection pressed into her belly. He had one hand on her breast and caught her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, plucking until she wondered if he was going to make her come just from that. The world was just the two of them, the heat of his body, the unbelievable pleasure and anticipation.

  His palm slid along her hip to the underside of her thigh, bringing her leg up, and she felt cool air on her. He shifted his body and he was at her entrance. His mouth curved into a smile. “You’re tall enough for this. Isn’t that great?”

  She pressed her hips forward, and he was there. Exactly what she wanted, after all. No regrets until tomorrow. He held the side of her face and made sure she was looking at him. With one hard thrust, he was inside her, stretching her the way he had before, amplifying the pleasure. He felt good. So good. A moan escaped her.

  “Paisley.” Her name rushed out of his mouth, hot on her skin. “Yes.”

  Then his mouth was at her throat again, that spot so close to her jaw. His hand hooked around her other leg, and he lifted her up so that the weight of his body kept her pressed against the wall, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on.

  She rocked forward, trying to get him deeper inside. Her head echoed with the fever heat of his arousal and the sense of something else working its way through her. She closed her eyes and all she saw behind her tightly closed lids was blue. Dark, dark, fathomless blue.

  “That’s it,” he whispered. “Let’s get lost in this.” Iskander lifted her up, pulled out, then set her down so her feet were on the floor. He faced her to the wall and spooned his front to her back. She saw his palm press flat to the wall. His other hand grabbed her hip. With a knee, he pushed her feet apart, and his hips were hard against her behind, and he tangled his fingers in her hair. He thrust inside her again, his pelvis and belly tight against her while his penis hit exactly the right angle. She braced herself hard against the wall so he could thrust harder and then harder again.

  “Upstairs,” he said, pushing her down the hallway toward the stairs.

  He picked her up before she was halfway there. The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back on a bed—his bed—and he was covering her, sliding inside her. He pushed up on his hands.

  His face was intent, and, God, she could just stay lost like this forever. “More,” he said. His eyes were changing from blue to green, and she had the impression, quickly gone—hidden from her?—that he wasn’t entirely in control of himself. “Paisley, I want more. Damn. Harder.” He let out a gasp. “Please.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and then her legs and arched toward him. Iskander lowered himself to her, curled an arm around the top of her head, and they locked gazes. He wasn’t smiling anymore. The look on his face was purely carnal, his mouth tense at the edges, his eyes blue-flecked green. He slowed his thrusts into her for a while, perfect, just perfect. With his weight on one arm, he traced a finger down the midline of her body. Heat settled into her where he touched her. His hips moved forward and stayed there. She wrapped her fingers around his upper arms and squeezed.

  He dropped a kiss to the top of her shoulder. His lips stayed soft on her skin, and his tongue, Lord, his tongue traced a lazy circle toward her neck, and every so often he drew his hips back, then pressed slowly in again, and that went on, driving her mad. He slipped farther into her head, too, into her consciousness, and it was like touching a part of him he kept from everyone else. A groan ripped from him, and she had trouble distinguishing her pleasure from his.

  He moved so they lay on their sides, facing each other, her outside leg over his hip. With his upper hand, he traced more lines along her body, and this time she was sure she saw tiny sparks leap between them. Her skin heated where those sparks fell.

  When she blinked, she saw blue and green behind her eyes. Her sense of him in her head got bigger, and he made a sound deep in the back of his throat, and it was like he was flowing into her, enfolding her, and she knew him. She knew the oath that bound him to Nikodemus, the dark and terrible hole Fen had left behind, and the stark fact that he had willingly made oaths that required him to die if that’s what it took to keep her safe.

  Her arms tightened around his body. “No,” she whispered, even though her throat was thick with tears. “Promise me you won’t let that happen.”

  He kissed away her tears, and he made love to her, even if that wasn’t what he called it. Iskander wrapped her up in pleasure and brought her with him when he came.

  CHAPTER 27

  The next day, 4:00 P.M., Paisley Bakery and Café

  Paisley was in the back when Iskander walked into the café. The space was small, but it smelled great, like fresh bread. The young woman behind the counter gave him a long once-over before she left to tell Paisley he was here. He figured Paisley already knew.

  The cashier came back, grinning. “She said to give you something to eat, no charge, and tell you she’ll be right out.”

  “Thanks.” The woman was good-looking, but he didn’t have the slightest urge to hit on her. The old Iskander, the before-Paisley Iskander, definitely would have hit on her. “How about a couple of coffees to go? An extra strong cap for her, macchiato for me.”


  Today was the party at the home of Paisley’s friend and mentor Ashlin Lau, given in honor of Paisley’s ex-boyfriend Urban Drummond. The party was being filmed for his cooking show. Since he wanted to make a good impression on her friends, Iskander had turned to Durian for advice about what to wear. The assassin had come through for him in a big way.

  He wore black pants, black loafers, and a blue V-neck cashmere sweater that Gray swore matched his eyes. Durian had hooked him up with a tailor to fit the pants and his suit jacket, and even he could tell the difference it made. He’d wanted to look good for Paisley and her friends, and he did.

  The cashier placed his two coffees on the counter, and he fixed Paisley’s cappuccino the way she liked it. He’d already downed half of his drink when Paisley came out from the back. She did a double-take that made him smile. Thank you, Durian. “Hey,” he said.

  “You look nice,” she said. She walked into the customer area and put a hand on his chest. “Wow, Iskander.”

  He gave her a light kiss on the lips. Nothing hot, but not a we’re just friends kiss either. He’d done the right thing, getting dressed up, because Paisley had, too. She wore a pair of slim trousers and a green blouse that brought out the green in her hazel eyes. “You look great, cupcake.”

  Her assistant baker came out of the back carrying some of the supplies for the party. He directed her to his truck. The Chevy was parked right in front of the bakery, and he helped load the boxes and the rest of the supplies. When he came back from that, Paisley was drinking her cap and had her coat draped over one arm.

  “Let’s go,” he said. “I don’t want to be late for all that food.”

  He helped her into the truck. With her looking all hot with her hair down and him in his fancy clothes, they were like any normal couple heading out for a date. Almost. There was no sign of Rasmus, and if there were any magehelds, Paisley would have let him know. He went around to the driver’s side and started the truck. The engine turned over with a roar like the enormous 1968 Chevy motor it was. God, he loved this truck.