by Devyn Quinn
A bittersweet ache filled her heart. Tonight, she’d be his, utterly and completely. Tomorrow, that wouldn’t be possible. Paradise gained wasn’t destined to last, no matter how badly she wished it.
The descent of his lips chased away her negative thoughts. For now there was only the moment. To be savored. Seized. Guided by the grind of his hips into hers, they came together and parted, a joining almost holy in its purity. If she’d had other men before him, they were soon forgotten, erased by penetration. His thrust inside her was his brand, marking her as his.
Just as Callie neared her third peak, he captured her wrists, pinning her arms above her head with a force that took her breath away.
Iollan groaned, pumping his body into hers. His hips moved faster, grinding her down into the mattress. The bedsprings grated under the savage motion of two bodies in action.
Panting to counter his savage thrusts, she filled the air with her moans. Gritting her teeth, Callie came up under him, not to break his hold but to enhance the feel of him inside her. Her move created an exquisite agony begging for deeper entry.
Sensing her silent plea, he increased his tempo, bone-jarringly fast and furious. He was in control, would give her no leeway, no mercy until he’d sapped every last ounce of her strength.
Climax built at the base of Callie’s spine, the explosion preparing to come from the inside out.
Iollan separated them long enough to reach into the back pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a condom. Ripping the foil open with his teeth, he expertly sheathed himself with the protection.
Surprised, Callie opened her eyes. She hadn’t expected him to be that thoughtful.
He glided back into her slick heat with a hard, demanding thrust. His head was thrown back, his body rippled, and his chest rose and fell each time his cock penetrated her. With his tousled hair, pale skin, and rippling muscles, he looked predatory, the hunter in fierce pursuit of his prey. He’d won the chase. His possession of her was complete.
It’s the heat of the moment.
Regaining control of himself, Iollan stared down at her. He smiled. “You’re so damn tight it’s difficult to hold back.”
“Any time you’re ready,” she invited.
“Getting there.” He lowered his hand between their bodies and his thumb worked her clit as he glided inside her slick depth one excruciating inch at a time.
The feel of him inside her seemed to stretch on forever, again filling the emptiness. The blood rushed from her brain, making her body uncomfortably hot, her arousal more painful as he stroked her sensitive inner flesh. A flaming arrow shot from Callie’s slick channel straight to the center of her heart. Her breathing grew shallow, a dark whorl of pleasure threatening to grab and asphyxiate her.
Just when she believed he’d surprise her no more, he slid his arms under the small of her back, lifting her into his lap. Legs closing around his waist, her arms automatically lifted to circle his neck. He was so deep inside that her sex gripped and held him fast. Bodies joined, he could go no deeper.
He met her gaze and held it, watching her reactions to his touch. Face-to-face, she noticed his eyes change. Lit by an illumination seeming to emanate from inside, they glowed—dazzling, brilliant, and electric.
The sight was entrancing. “Beautiful,” she murmured. His eyes wove an unspoken spell, mesmerizing her with an awesome and pure beauty.
Iollan unexpectedly stabbed deep, one fast stunning thrust. “Come for me, love. Show me what I do to you.”
Callie’s hands convulsed, fingers digging trenches in his skin as his body undulated against hers. Arriving from nowhere, an extraordinary surge of energy pulsed through her, jolting her nerve endings into extreme sensitivity. She didn’t just feel him inside her, she felt he was inside her. Their minds connected. A pathway into an endless eternity opened up and stretched out before her. Her heart hammered, threatening to tear itself from the confines of her ribs. Spasms built from the center of her core, spiraling outward.
Surrendering, she climaxed with the speed of a bottle rocket, whizzing and exploding into a million sparks of pure energy. The aftershocks seemed to go on forever. She gulped, struggling to take in fresh air.
He gave her no time to catch her breath. “We’re not done yet.” Nuzzling her damp mouth, he kissed her with the longing of a man desperate not to lose contact. His tongue penetrated her lips, opening a fresh surge of passion. Cock engorged, his own excitement was at the boiling point, ready to erupt.
Drawing back from their kiss, his mouth sought and found the vulnerable flesh between breast and shoulder. He licked. A second later he bit, sharp teeth razoring through her skin. Blood welled to the surface.
Callie pulled in a quick breath as erotic delight blazed straight down. Sanity seeping away, she trembled beneath the sensual blitz of pain. The heated, moist sensation of his mouth sucking at her blazing skin sent white-hot darts of fire up and down her spine.
Craving—half-anxious, half-repulsed—knotted her body. Her own attraction to the darker side of her sexual appetite felt stronger than ever. The crimson-robed beast rose in the back of her mind, glorious and magnificent in scope and breadth. Her master was sleek. Controlled. Hard.
Mouth going bone dry, she yearned for another caress as the room spun around her. The intoxicating mix of wanton need rose with her body temperature. Erotic quivers nudged her toward the edge. Core going molten, she felt moisture trickle between her clenched thighs. There was no mistake. She craved his domination. With all the skill of the seducer he’d deftly reawakened the senses she’d fought to dull and deny.
Heavens, yes.
Hungry lips suckled. Iollan consumed her, controlled her, taking his pleasure. The manipulations of his talented mouth and cock made her gasp.
Hands grasping her ass, he redoubled his thrusts, taking her with unrelenting force. With each swallow, he stroked her hips down against his. Stress knotted and pressure rose to the point of eruption. Biting deep into her flesh, he plunged with a final, brutal intensity. Body vibrating fiercely, he ended in a long groan.
Callie screamed as climax claimed her a fourth magnificent time. Orgasm struck like a red-hot poker up the ass, simultaneously delivering a liquefying release that snatched what few brain cells she had left.
4
Callie woke in her least favorite way, feeling like she’d been hit by a tractor trailer. Not only had the Goddamn thing smashed her flat, it had apparently backed up and run over her. She felt the pressure of a headache threaten from the safety behind her temples. The twinge prompted a groan. She heard her blood drum against the walls of her skull.
Pushing aside the thick patchwork comforter covering her, she tried to rise. Not a good idea. An inky veil settled over her eyes, blotting out her vision. She felt her body go numb, the room sway around her. Her stomach turned over.
She swallowed, clenching her jaw, trying to fight off the sickness threatening to overtake her. She pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead, as if she feared her skull would crack and her brains would spill out.
“Damn, damn, damn.”
Callie tried to concentrate through her suffering. She heard her heart beating in her ears; felt the reverberating thuds in her chest.
Head feeling heavy as an anvil, she lay back against her pillow. She lowered her hand and took several fortifying breaths. That helped clear her vision, steady her shaking body.
“What the hell happened?”
And then she remembered the night’s dream lingering in her head, flashes of great ecstasy mingling with the sensations of intense pleasure. And pain. Images of the midnight demon soothing her loneliness drifted to the forefront of her memory. Their encounter, veiled in the mists of her memory, seemed so unreal she was half-inclined to believe it hadn’t really happened.
Her body told another story. Usually she slept in a sports bra, T-shirt, and panties. She was naked, wearing not a stitch. Surprise tightened her throat when she remembered she hadn’t gone to bed alo
ne.
Keeping her eyes shut, Callie let her hands drift over her skin. The tips of her nipples came to pebble-hard attention when her palms brushed over them. Bits and pieces of the previous night floated across her mind’s screen. Acutely aware of her actions, she cupped her breasts, rubbing them. As she did, her lover’s form appeared out of the miasma, taking form.
She smiled, welcoming him.
He was all eyes and all cock, and both burned through the pain in her mind. The haze began to fade, details of the previous hours seeping back in a lovely kaleidoscope of color, sounds, and sensations. He leaned over her, kissing her parted lips, his tongue invading her mouth.
Responding, she tugged her nipples, twisting them between thumb and forefinger until a little twinge of delight shimmied down her spine. Everything was so clear, so intense that Callie believed she smelled the heat of his sex. She gasped, skin flushing as she remembered how he’d taken her.
Not content with nipple play, she passed a hand down the flat plane of her stomach, slipping it between her legs. She shivered as her inquisitive fingers probed her softness, still damp from the night’s lovemaking. Beneath her touch her clit was swollen and pulsing.
She pressed deeper, one finger, and then two. She spread her legs, seeking fuller and deeper access. Pleasure peaking, she began to make a sound down in her throat, which worked its way up as she slipped two fingers inside her depth.
Come hard, love, she imagined him urging in her ear.
Rapturous crescendo arrived without warning. A lusty moan broke from her lips, loosening a cry that melted her senses into a mass as pliable as Silly Putty.
A moment later her hand slipped out of her depth, fingers sticky with her own cream. She took a deep breath to control the wild beat of her heart. The organ hammered in her chest like a mustang battling the ropes of unwanted captors.
Callie breathed in, and then out. Comfortable warmth radiated through her, helping shed the last grasping talons of her headache. Amazing. She’d learned long ago that a quick climax really helped lessen a body’s stress.
She was close to floating off in a dreamy haze when a familiar voice sounded in her ears.
“There’s nothing I love to see more than a woman getting herself off.” The words flooded her mind and set her stomach to rolling. What the fuck?
Bowels cramping with unease, Callie forced her eyes open. She blinked to clear her blurry vision. It took a moment for her eyes to focus in the direction of the bedroom door. Recognizing the intruder, she groped for something to cover her nudity. Astonishment was huge, but quickly absorbed. She glared at the skinny little snitch leaning against the frame.
“Jesus Christ, you little punk. How the hell did you get in here?”
Short and boxy, with shoulder-length dirty blond hair and an even scragglier beard, Paul Norton’s smile stretched across his face in an obscene grin. “Duh. I picked your lock.”
She eyed him. “What for, you little creep.”
Norton snuffled and wiped his nose with one grimy sleeve of a jacket most likely dug from a Dumpster. Dressed in baggy cargo pants at least two sizes too big and a shirt that had more holes than intact material, he looked every bit like a shabby junkie on crack. “I’m a thief. It’s what thieves do.”
In reality Paul Norton was her partner of two years and the closest friend she had, a fellow agent working the Drake investigation. Where Callie’s job was to identify Drake’s associates for agents, Norton’s was to photograph and run down their identities. A whiz with a knack for breaking and entering, he could breach any lock on earth.
Sighing at the imposition, Callie peered around for her robe. Of course it hung on the peg behind the door. She pointed. “Could you hand me that?”
Norton retrieved the robe. “You want this?” A shit-eating grin of pornographic mischief crossed his face.
She held out her hand. “Please. If you don’t mind.”
He waggled it like a tempting morsel. “Why don’t you come and get it?”
Callie rolled her eyes. “I’m naked, asshole.” Despite his best attempts to get her into bed, Norton had failed. He seemed to enjoy paying her back for the many times she’d brushed off his sexual advances. He’d wanted to be more than friends for years.
He made an exasperated gesture with his hands. “I know.” He chuckled in a most unappealing manner. “And from what I saw, it’s glorious.”
Callie’s eyebrows came together in an ugly scowl. “Stop it, Paul. You’re giving me a headache.”
Grin set like concrete, Norton shook his head. “Didn’t look like you had a headache a few minutes ago. God, you looked so hot getting yourself off. I hope you were thinking of me.”
She eyed his short, chunky frame. She barely imagined their bodies entwined in a naked clinch, his lips brushing hers. It just didn’t compute. The physical attraction wasn’t there and wouldn’t be even if they were stranded on a desert island and were the only male and only female. Her partner was single and probably the safer choice. But Callie never took the safer path when it came to men. “Christ, Paul. You’re a nice guy, but—”
He interrupted her. “I know.” He pushed crooked wire-rim glasses up on his beaky nose, which gave him the look of a be-mused owl. “You want tall, dark bastards. Short, blond, and dumpy just doesn’t turn you on. Hell, it doesn’t turn me on either.”
She made a derisive sound. “That’s not it at all.”
He grimaced, giving a self-deprecating smile. “Sure it is. But, please, don’t penalize me for worshipping beauty. I’m a man. We can’t help being attracted to naked goddesses.”
Callie rolled her eyes. “Don’t start. I don’t need a lecture on what men want, or what I want in a man.” She held out her hand for the robe. “You think you could hand that over?”
His perky grin returned. “Nah.” He began to breathe heavily, imitating an obscene caller. “I still want to see you naked.”
“Fuck you.”
He grinned. “Please do.”
“You’re a maggot, Paulie. A horny little maggot.”
Norton spread his arms in his defense. “What do you expect? I walk in on a gorgeous undressed woman doing things to her body I can only dream about and you expect me to just turn around and walk out.”
“That would have been decent of you,” she muttered under her breath.
He eyed her, sitting in a crumpled mass of patchwork quilt and nothing else. “How can you expect me not to get a woody the size of Texas when you’re so damn close and so damn naked?”
Callie pulled her cover tighter to her body, wishing she could hide every last inch. “Rhode Island is more like it,” she bit off dryly.
Hand flying to his heart, Paul winced. “You wound me.”
“Get over it.” Tired of playing games, Callie bunched the comforter around her body and slid off the bed. Her legs shook but held her weight. “I need a shower.” The garments she’d worn the night before—skirt, bustier, panties, and hose—had been neatly placed on the nearby bureau. Her shoes sat directly below, on the floor.
Grabbing them, she fled into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Stopping to catch her breath, she leaned against it for support. Teasing aside, Paul wouldn’t be here unless something had gone down, or was about to. She had no computer, cell phone, or any other high-tech gadgets one would expect a government agent to carry—not even a gun. For this assignment she’d been forced to strip down to the barest essentials. Paul was her go-between with the rest of the team.
“No time to stand around,” she muttered. She needed to get moving.
5
Turning on the cold tap, Callie stepped into the shower. A blitz of icy water needled her skin. Any desire she felt for Iollan Drake vanished, just what she needed to get her mind out of her crotch and back into her work.
Adjusting the water to a more comfortable temperature, she washed her hair. Soaping not once but twice, she washed the feel of Drake’s hands off her skin. To her chagrin, the mem
ory stayed in place. Every move of her muscles reminded her of his vigorous lovemaking. Even now her skin tingled in the places he’d caressed and kissed. One thing was for sure. She’d been thoroughly fucked, and fucked well.
As she washed, she turned Iollan Drake over in her mind, mentally exploring every angle. Definitely like no man she’d ever slept with before, seemingly sincere and totally without guile.
To keep reminding herself he was a vicious criminal was almost impossible every time she thought about his muscular body and sexy accent. If he were really tied up in a sex cult, then he was responsible for the horrible fates that had befallen countless missing women and men. No matter what her personal feelings toward him might be, the bottom line was solidly drawn.
Imagine a cockroach, she thought, a defense to guard against his immense charisma. Her feminine instincts warned their paths would cross again.
Finished with her wash, she stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. Her hand stopped in midair. A glance in the mirror revealed something she hadn’t been expecting—or was even aware of.
Water dripping from her skin, Callie stepped closer to the vanity. She planted both hands on either side of the sink, leaning closer to the mirror. Her gaze flicked across her reflection, settling on her left breast. The punctures were shallow, too uneven to be a human bite. A purplish bruise surrounded them, as though the skin had been vigorously sucked.
She probed the small patch with curious fingers. It hurt. And, oddly, she didn’t remember when he’d inflicted it. Pity. She would have enjoyed it. Still, she’d been marked. Branded by his passion. She found the idea strangely erotic.
Then reality set in.
Drake knew she liked pain. And he’d promised the night would be exquisite. Indeed, it had been. The thought that he knew her fetish heated her cheeks. Yes, she’d certainly opened up, in a way she hadn’t intended. Confessing her secret had been utterly out of character. She had a weakness, an Achilles’ heel, and had exposed it without thinking through the consequences. Not a wise move, but nothing in her training had prepared her for last night. I thought I’d slain that demon.