by Ann Macela
Chapter Thirty
A light snow was falling—again—when they drove home, and Saxt made himself concentrate on driving the slushy roads. It wasn’t easy. Between leaving Dorothy’s and packing up his room and climbing in the car, he’d been flooded with desire for the woman at his side. Completely excited. Absolutely aroused. His center was vibrating wildly, and his cock had the rigidity of a steel sword.
Johanna was silent. Good thing. Blown toward him by the heater fans, her scent made his nostrils flare and his lips and tongue want to taste her all over. The sound of her voice might be enough to make him pull into the first parking lot and …
Concentrate, Saxt. You’re not a teenager. Red light ahead. Slow down. Easy on the turn. It’s only a little farther.
His mind persisted, however, in thinking its own thoughts. He didn’t remember being this horny when he was younger, not even when he and Maddy first mated. Was the soul-mate imperative finally giving them the grief it did others? No, he wasn’t having any of the pain associated with those not accepting the bond. This was more like an overwhelming need to mate.
Could it be simply plain, old-fashioned lust? No, not with his center involved. He’d had only a couple of lovers in the intervening years since the crash, and he’d discovered that making love to a woman not your soul-mate didn’t interest your center at all, and it really didn’t satisfy the man, either. In fact, it sucked.
Now, of course, Johanna was his mate. That fact alone ensured his and her satisfaction. Although ‘satisfaction’ didn’t nearly cover all the feelings that mating produced.
He snuck a glance at her. She seemed lost in her own thoughts … but her fists were tightly clenched in her lap, and tension radiated from her. Was she in the same state he was? What the hell was going on?
On the other hand, who cared? Making love would take care of their mutual arousal.
When they drove up to Johanna’s place, Saxt had never been so happy to see a house in his life. He pulled into the garage, climbed stiffly out of the car, and hauled his suitcases from the trunk. Johanna grabbed his briefcase and laptop from the back seat, and hit the button to close the garage as she walked into the house. When he shut the door after him and dropped his luggage, she laid her burdens on the kitchen table and faced him.
Her gaze met his, and the impact almost staggered him. Love, desire, longing, need, want—all of that and more crashed through his system and came to rest in his heart.
He shrugged out of his coat and let it fall to the floor. She did the same.
In two steps, he had her in his arms. “Johanna,” he murmured, and she breathed, “Saxt.”
Then they were kissing, and their centers aligned, and she rubbed against him all the way down.
And the term, “internal combustion,” took on a new meaning.
The bedroom. They needed to be in bed. Damned if he was going to make love on the floor. Equally damned if he was going to let her go, even to climb the stairs. If he didn’t want to drop her or kill himself, however, he needed help. Time to use a spell creatively. He cast strength, mentally stating, “Invalescere!”
Zap! It was superhero time!
Without ending their kiss but keeping one eye open, Saxt swept her up into his arms and headed for the stairs. He didn’t put her down until they were next to the bed. Lowering her feet to the floor broke the kiss, not their grasp, and they stood for several minutes, simply holding on to each other. He canceled his strength spell—he’d learned from their previous love making, he’d need every ounce of energy in his body.
The night lights on the stairs and in the bathroom and reflections through the open drapes from the falling snow outside offered the only illumination. When his sight adjusted, Saxt could see what he most wanted to—her, her eyes, her body. There was also a lot to be said for the sense of touch, the feel of her in his arms, right where she was supposed to be.
“I love you, Johanna,” he whispered in her ear.
“Oh, Saxt, I love you, too,” she answered, her voice low and breathless.
He laid his hands on her shoulders and stepped back a few inches. “Let me show you how much.”
While he began to unbutton her shirt slowly, she went to work on his.
Fast. Too fast.
He stopped her busy hands. “Wait,” he murmured. “This time, we go slow.”
“It’s going to be difficult,” she replied. “I’m about to explode.”
“So am I. I simply refuse to answer to the dictates of the phenomenon. Up to now, when we’ve made love, we’ve been in a rush. Let’s take the time to enjoy.” He lifted one of her hands and kissed the palm. He loved her trembling reaction, so he kissed it again.
“Oh, yes,” she said on a long exhale.
“Just stand there. Let me do the work.” Saxt pulled her shirttail out of her long pants and finished unbuttoning. After opening the shirt and letting it slide off her shoulders and arms to pool on the floor, he ran his index fingers down the inner sides of her bra straps and along the lacy cups until they met in the middle, right at the clasp. A flick of his fingers, and the bra joined the shirt.
Her nipples were already tight and darkly pink, her breasts full and firm. She was so beautiful, he stood for a long moment simply enjoying the view. When his need grew stronger, he had to touch her, to cup those lovely breasts, to rub his thumbs over those tempting nipples. She was so soft, so smooth. Through his palms, he could feel her center humming, and his joined in with a bass note.
She moaned and placed her hands on top of his for more pressure.
As he slid his hands out from under hers and down to her belt, he told her, “In a minute, honey.”
The sight of Johanna—blond hair a shining halo, head thrown back, eyes half closed, hands cupping her own breasts—inflamed him further, and his own hands shook while he unbuckled her belt and lowered her zipper.
He knelt to remove her sneakers and socks, then helped her out of her long pants and panties. He couldn’t resist running his hands up and down her legs, grasping her hips, and giving her navel a small lick and a kiss. She tasted wonderfully sweet.
When Saxt looked up from his kneeling position, she tilted her head down and blinked at him dreamily. He watched her expression change as she gathered her wits. She was definitely in charge when she gave him a mischievous smile and said in a low, breathy voice, “Stand up. It’s my turn.”
The next few minutes were torture. Complete, absolute torture.
Johanna undressed him slowly, carefully, as he had her, only with one important difference. Where he had barely touched her, she used her hands all over his body. First she skimmed her hands along the width of his shoulders when she removed his shirt. Sliding his undershirt up and off gave her access to his chest, where she gave each of his nipples a kiss. Then she circled him, trailing her hand at his waist.
In front again, she knelt, and the sight of her blond head at that level gave him ideas that he quickly stuffed into the back of his mind. Later. Maybe.
Rather prosaically, as though she had no idea what he was thinking—and, indeed, she might not—she helped him out of his shoes. All his ideas rushed to the forefront again, when she unbuckled and unzipped his pants, brushing his straining erection as she did so.
“Wait,” he gasped and grabbed her hands, tugged her to her feet. “I’ll go off like a rocket if you touch me.”
She pouted, but let him rid himself of his pants and boxers. Even in the dim light, Saxt knew she was studying him when he straightened up. His body responded—hardening and swelling even more—as if her gaze had hands. When his magic energy began to travel from his center to his extremities—all of them—and return, his want of and need for this woman intensified tenfold. He pulled her into his arms and into a deep, claiming, I’m-yours-you’re-mine kiss.
Ah, better. Sheer delight spread from his center when they touched flesh-to-flesh. His cock found a nestling place and was equally happy. He let his hands roam, over her back, down
to her butt, up and around to her breasts, where he lingered to play.
Johanna was doing some playing of her own, over his back, down to his butt, which she squeezed, causing him to flex his hips involuntarily. Which reminded his cock what it wanted, and it began to ache.
Have mercy! Saxt implored the soul-mate phenomenon while he struggled to keep control. When he stepped back a few inches, she made a little sound of disappointment. When he picked her up again, however, she purred.
After laying her in the center of the bed, he reached to turn on the lamp on the chest. He gave the knob one click, the lowest of the three-way bulb. They both blinked at the low-wattage brightness.
She frowned. He sat on the bed and leaned over her. “I need to see you.”
When she grasped his shoulders to pull him down, he captured her hands, kissed each palm, and, placing them on each side of her head, held them to the pillow. “Slow, remember?”
“Another Falkner Plan?”
“One I know will work. Trust me.” He kissed her lips and, without letting go of her hands, worked his way down her neck to her collarbone. Against her skin, he murmured, “Relax and enjoy.”
Saxt took her again in a long, thorough kiss, focusing only on her mouth, demanding her attention and concentration only there, moving no other part of his body. She answered his claim of possession with her own, stroke for stroke, dueling, commanding … surrendering … mating.
Energy began to flow between their only points of contact, from mouth to mouth and from hand to hand. It spread throughout his body, sparking nerve endings and exciting every muscle.
Saxt could feel his control slipping as their kiss went deeper still, and his body’s need to be inside her intensified into pain.
Before he could succumb to the urges, and with a groan he felt to his toes, he raised his head and broke the kiss. His heart hammered in his chest, and his lungs worked like bellows while he let go of her hands and shifted so he was lying on his right side next to her and propped up on his elbow.
Breathing heavily, eyes half closed, and her body almost limp, she lay beside him. Good. His plan to relax her, to slow her down, was working. The question was, could he manage himself?
He put his left hand on her stomach below her magic center and slid it up to cup and massage first one breast, then the other. She smiled and wriggled as he kneaded her breasts and played with her nipples. When he bent to kiss and suckle, her breath caught, and she arched into his touch.
Johanna was so vibrant, alluring, responsive. Saxt couldn’t get enough of her. That wasn’t going to stop him from trying, of course. He kissed his way down her body, taking note of her vibrating center and the energy that met his lips with each touch of them to her skin. His own center hummed in sync, urging him along.
When Saxt slid his fingers down through her curly blond hair and cupped her, more power flowed between them. He still had enough blood in his brain to wonder if they were undergoing another bonding, but it was only a fleeting thought. More important was tasting her.
He rose up enough to shift between her legs where he lightly kissed her inner thighs. When he licked her opening and tweaked her little nub of nerve endings, she gasped and arched and fisted her hands in his hair. Not to push him away, however. To hold him closer. Let him with lips and tongue possess her.
Which he did, until Johanna was writhing and calling his name. Her scent enchanted him, her taste enthralled him, her energy melded with his to produce a euphoria that only made him want her even more.
Saxt rose to drop a line of kisses up her stomach, over her center, and straight to her mouth. He stopped kissing her only long enough to grasp her hands and interlock their fingers. When their palms met, energy sped straight to his eager cock. Gazing into her eyes, he thrust into her, all the way.
Oh, God, yes! Her hot depths held him tight, just right, no, better than that—absolutely perfectly.
“Yours and mine,” she whispered.
“Yours and mine,” he answered, and he kissed her.
He began thrusting. She lifted to meet him.
Again. And again. And again.
Until the universe narrowed down to only him and her, to their give and take, to their heat and passion. To his heavy thrusts. To her answering firm hold. To his withdrawal, to her rising welcome. To hands fused together, to a kiss never ending. To magic centers sliding over each other. To power moving between them and around them and in them, doubling and redoubling with each passage.
Energy flowed, and sparked, and shot bursts of lightning and fire through his body, into hers, and around again. In what remained of his brain, he was certain he was melting, merging into her, and they were moving as one toward a goal, reaching for it, stretching, straining, almost there …
Saxt squinted open his eyes. Rainbows of lights played around them, like spell auras gone crazy. He shut his eyes again, and he could still see the lights somehow, through his eyelids. When he concentrated on the kiss and his thrusts, the colors coalesced, melted into one only—red—then ran up through the spectrum.
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.
Silver. Gold.
They both moved faster, reached higher, as pressure built and built until they were …
There, in an explosion of pure, dazzling white!
Her arching climax triggered his. His shudders were like the earth moving. Her tight contractions only drove him on to greater efforts as he poured himself into her.
Their mutual, simultaneous frenzy seemed to last forever. It finally ended, only to be replaced in his body, in his mind, and in his heart by triumphant exhilaration, jubilation, and euphoria, and the most potent magic of all, love.
When consciousness returned, Saxt found himself on his right side, his arms wrapped around Johanna. His body refused to move. He somehow kicked his protesting brain into gear.
He didn’t know exactly what had happened, but he knew Johanna and he were together now, a team on every level. If he’d had any doubts about her and him or the bond, they’d just been blown away by a hurricane, a tsunami, and an earthquake of magic, all rolled into one. He’d never heard of a bonding like they’d experienced. He was surprised to be alive.
Oh, God, how was his mate?
“Johanna?” He forced the words out of a dry throat. “Are you all right?”
“Hmmmmm?” She snuggled and held him tighter—if that was possible. After a moment, her arms and legs loosened, and her body relaxed. She was asleep.
Good. She was okay. He reached to turn off the bedside lamp, and he couldn’t fight for a minute longer the overwhelming fatigue that hit like a sledgehammer. He closed his eyes and let himself go.
***
Johanna opened her eyes to darkness. Closed them again. Snuggled against Saxt. Why was it so dark? Had the nightlight in the bathroom burned out? Oh. Her head was completely under the covers.
She wasn’t sure she could move, her muscles were so totally slack. Absolutely relaxed. Perfectly limp. She wiggled her toes. Those still worked. Her fingers did, too.
Her center was utterly quiet. Funny, because, ever since she met Saxt, it had always been revving up, humming, or jumping around. The rest of her felt pretty good. Kind of tired. Definitely happy. It was fantastic to float here with Saxt, like lying next to a big heating pad—or a large, warm cat. A lion? No. Saxt was definitely more of the sleek leopard variety.
Before she could doze off again, her body made its own demand.
Oh, wonderful. She had to go to the bathroom.
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to slide out from under Saxt’s arm, from under the blankets, and stand up. Her knees were weak, but they held. Goosebumps jumped out all over her—the house had cooled off. She eyed the path to the bathroom. Okay, she could make that distance. One foot in front of the other and hold on to whatever wall or piece of furniture was handy. Thank goodness her side of the bed was the one nearest to the facilities.
By the time she made it t
o the dim bathroom, her muscles had woken up. When she was washing her hands afterward, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror and decided having a nightlight was one of her better ideas. She’d hate to see what she really looked like in bright light.
Ugh, she still had makeup on. Hadn’t she even washed her face before they went to bed?
She grabbed her facial cleanser and started spreading the lotion, then began wiping it off with a washcloth.
Wait a minute.
How had she gotten to bed?
Oh.
Washcloth dripping in the sink, Johanna stared at her reflection while the events of the evening played again in her brain—their kisses, his carrying her up the stairs, undressing each other, more kisses, and the tumult and explosions that followed.
Their hands. Something was important about them.
She dropped the washcloth to scrutinize her palms. They looked normal. She held them up to the nightlight. Still normal.
Despite the fact that energy had poured through them in a river of magic. No, more than that. A rampaging torrent. Much more than she ever passed to or from the ring. As much as when she used her blade to kill an evil item? Maybe. Maybe more.
She reviewed the night’s events while she washed her face and hung the cloth on its rack. No explanations for the bonding—because that’s what the result of the turmoil had to be—came to mind. The second bonding. Or, depending on how you counted it, the third.
What came to her body, however, was a sharp jab in her solar plexus that almost doubled her over. Her center woke up and vibrated. Her palms started tingling. When she held them up and brought them together, she could feel energy beginning to circulate.
Without her casting a spell. Not even lux.
Her center was pushing power around without her direction or consent. How? More important, why?
She had to tell Saxt about what was going on.
The second she thought his name, bam! Another painful poke in the stomach.