by kimberly
The child in my dream…
Her heart grew cold. Cassandra was psychic. Had this gift--or curse--been passed on to her? "Are you saying children are murdered at birth?" she stammered, wanting to banish the terrible images from her mind.
"Not murdered," he said firmly. "Infused with their hierarchical legacies, the powers they will someday hold when they cross over into the occult." He reached for her hand. Under his touch, his skin was dry and cool. Spreading her fingers, he placed her open palm on his chest, over his heart. He stilled his breath.
Julienne could sense no heartbeat. She closed her eyes, concentrating, pressing harder. A long minute passed, then another. Still, she felt nothing, no reverberation in his chest, no steady beat. Puzzled, she lifted her hand and pressed two fingers to his jugular. No pulse.
She drew her hand away. "I guess I should let you know you're dead."
A slow smile shadowed his lips. "If I were human, I would be. You do not feel a pulse because it's beyond your perceptions. The beat of my heart is so slow, it is virtually nonexistent."
"But…when your human life is gone, what replaces it?"
Morgan's mouth set, lips thinning in anger, a muscle twitching around his jaw. His benevolent mood was starting to evaporate like dew under a hot morning sun. "A thing you would never want to see," he replied, his voice unexpectedly growing hard-edged, bitter.
"I'm sorry I asked," she hastened to say. Settling back, she picked up her coffee and took a sip. The liquid had grown lukewarm. It tasted horrible. Right now I'm the one who could use a drink or two, she thought.
Grunting, he settled his hands behind his head. "Forget my words," he said. "They mean nothing."
She lowered her cup, setting it aside. "If things had been different, if my mother hadn't ran away, what was I to become?" A hitch caught in her throat, choking her with its unexpected intensity.
"You were to become a priestess, versed in the ways of the Celtic Wicca."
"Was I?" she asked, secretly pleased by his answer. "What would one do?"
"A priestess leads the souls of the dying to the next world, performs enchantments, casts prophecies, creates charms, as well as aids in healing and child-birthing." He reached out and stroked her hair, an intimate and unexpected gesture. "A red-haired woman is also sacred to war goddesses, as it is the color of life's blood. This was why I chose a Blackthorne woman to take and train in the ways of nature's magic."
"I wish that had been my life," she said wistfully, catching his hand as he drew it away. "If only you weren't leaving, you could've taught me."
He freed his hand, bringing a single finger across her lips to silence her. "Perhaps it is better this way."
Julienne forced herself to swallow the knot in her throat. She made an impulsive decision, one that would change the direction of her very life, of her destiny, though she did not yet know it.
"Do you remember what you asked me the other night, when we were here?" she blurted.
Morgan let his hand fall, shaking his head. "I recall nothing when I am drinking like that," he confessed candidly. A long ragged sigh escaped him, as though he were weary to the bone. "My mind is blank. I usually have to be told what I have done."
Julienne fought the nervous buckling in her stomach, gathering every ounce of bravado she possessed. "You asked me if I thought we could be lovers," she said in quick rush.
A strange expression crossed his face as if he were surprised she would want to remind him. "And your reply?"
"I said no," she told him, then finished boldly, "But I've changed my mind."
His eyebrow arched, interest lighting his features. He turned onto his side so he could face her directly. "Why?"
"Because I'm probably as crazy as you are." Julienne, the woman who'd told herself to play it cool with him, who'd promised herself not to get involved, threw sound, sensible advice out of the window and into the wind.
Have I ever been normal myself…or sensible? she asked herself. She'd always followed the rise and fall of her wild, inexplicable impulses. Allowing instinct to lead her, she leaned forward, tilting back her head and offering her lips. He accepted her gesture. His mouth came down on hers with a deliberate, calculated slowness, his searching lips eagerly mastering hers. His hand cupped her face, his thumb stroking her scarred cheek.
When the moment ended, Julienne drew away, breathless, tingling to her toes. Her insides quivered with anticipation, stomach fluttering, cheeks hot, a consuming ache of need spreading throughout her body.
"I…I want you," she stammered, feeling herself turn scarlet to the roots of her red hair as her words boldly tumbled out.
His black, enigmatic eyes studied her, the light of the fire reflected in their depths. It seemed for a scary moment that he'd refuse her advance. "It would not be right between us," he pointed out deliberately. "I am soon to leave."
"I know," she said tersely, desperate not to lose him now that she'd opened herself up to him, revealing her need.
"And you do not care?"
"I'm willing to take what you'll give me." She leaned closer to him, her tongue teasingly moistening her full lips. Her fingers on his shoulders were tight, her grip suggestive. Take the risk, her little demon nudged.
Catching her hand, Morgan lifted it to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers. "You are trembling."
"I need you. Tonight. Now." Julienne felt tingling warmth spread though her body. In past times, she'd worked with--and bedded--the most luscious hunks of male flesh in the fashion industry. Still, sex had never meant much to her, and she'd never begged a man to take her. But his touch melted the tension and qualms she'd had about him. Without a doubt, she knew they would become lovers and, as lovers, would never be parted. She could not say how she was aware of such an uncertain truth, only that she felt it inside her very soul.
Tugging on his shirt, she silently urged him to join her on the rug before the hearth. The carpet was soft beneath her body as she stretched out. With only a moment's hesitation, he joined her, propping himself on one elbow. Lightly, he brushed her lips with his, resting his hand just below the fullness of her breast.
"I will not lie to you," he said in a rough voice. "This would be only for the physical." She barely suppressed a whimper as his hand slid up, cupping her breast. He brushed a thumb over her rapidly hardening nipple with an arousing pressure. She was actually living one of the many dreams she'd had about him, wickedly graphic and intense. She wanted him to touch her all over.
"I don't care how you want to justify this, Morgan," she breathed, fighting to swallow past the tightness in her throat. "I just want you." She made an eager, hungry sound and eased her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his. She'd never seen him lift more than a bottle, but he had a physique no mere gym workout had built. There was not an ounce of fat on him. She sensed that a lifetime of hard exertion had first developed and then honed his muscles to their strongest. An instinctive stalker, he moved with the grace of a lynx starved before the hunt, deadly, accurate, and verging on desperate.
Morgan responded, tugging open her sweater and tweaking a nipple with his finger through her blouse. His touch burned through the thin material, sending shivers up her spine. The sensations tingling atop her skin were exquisite and she gasped with pleasure when he left her mouth to nibble at her neck, kissing the hollow of her tender throat.
"That feels wonderful," she breathed, in a hoarse voice that conveyed both her need and desire for his touch. Her back arched reflexively as his hand again sought, then cupped, her breast. She groaned in need and began to tug up her blouse to bare her skin to him, but he stopped her. The pressure of his hand was strong and sure.
"Slow down," he commanded. "We have the night and I intend to take my time with you."
Julienne could not speak. An ache, sharp and searing, pierced her spirit. She wanted him so badly that she hurt from the need. His hand moved lightly over her hair, laying out the strands around her, a red halo glimmering like
liquid copper in the snapping firelight.
"You are a beautiful woman." His lips touched her forehead, her cheek and then her mouth, his kiss slow and sensual, leaving her breathless with anticipation. He moved downward, bending his head to graze the taut distended peak of her nipple. She closed her eyes in delight as he began to unbutton her blouse, expertly handling the small, pearly buttons. A primitive, throaty moan escaped her lips and she waited in sensuous suspension for the surrender she knew she would willingly make to his hard male body.
Tracing his fingers along the lines of her lacy push-up bra, he slid his fingers into one of the cups and tugged it down, baring her left breast, and then her right. She heard herself groan in ecstasy as his bruising lips left her mouth to move to the breast his seeking fingers laid bare. He captured a pulsing nipple in his mouth in a bold kiss, his lips suckling the hard pink nubbin. She whimpered, tangling her fingers in his dark hair, pressing him closer. Emitting a soft sigh as he pleasured her, she felt as if her body had been created to please this man.
"Morgan, please," she gasped, burying her fingers in his shoulders when he nipped first one, and then the other quivering peak, his tongue making slow lazy circles around each dusky aureole. He rolled her sensitive skin between his fingers, all the while suckling, kissing, scraping her pencil-hard nubs.
"Shall I stop?" he teased, his own voice dropping to a low, husky register. He boldly squeezed her full breast.
"No, don't!" Julienne remembered the dreams she'd had, the ones where she'd borne his children. She felt the divine paroxysms of joy as she dreamed about what it would be like to be claimed by him. She was using no contraceptives and her menstrual cycles had recently returned. What if? She smiled dreamily.
"Morgan, I need you so much," she pleaded, lifting off the rug to seek closer contact with his body. It's as if my blood's burning in my veins.
"Do not say I did not warn you, caile," he smiled cockily. His fingers caught impatiently in the masses of her hair, pulling her up to meet the assault of his mouth over hers.
Wanting desperately to please him as he was her, Julienne fumbled for his zones of pleasure, spreading her fingers over his manhood, squeezing his burgeoning length gently. He caught her hand and drew it away, holding her wrist with gentle restraint.
"Later," he whispered, attacking her bare breasts like a starving man, teasing each nipple in its turn without mercy or respite.
I've turned into a slut, she told herself. But, oh, God, what he was doing to her felt so good. Why deny the pleasures of the flesh? She was only human. A small secret smile curved her lips. But he's not.
She shivered when he ran his open palm down the flat plane of her belly, kissing his way down her rib cage and stomach. His fingers began to ease up her skirt until her legs were bared to him. Finding the silken material of her panties, he gently urged her to spread her legs to give him access to her most secret places. He began to stroke her in a slow, steady motion, introducing her to incredibly fierce sensations that whipped her into a frenzy of desire.
Wild with need, fighting the unstoppable feelings threatening to overtake her too soon, she caught his hair and pulled him back to her breasts, offering him a delectable pink bud. Between the masterful motions of his hand, and the feel of his lips on her breasts, she could barely contain herself. She thrust her hips upward as his fingers eased aside her panties and invaded her, using first one finger, then two, to increase her pleasure. He made no effort to be slow or gentle, sensing that she wanted to be mastered by his touch.
Julienne shuddered, wild with the need for a deeper, more complete fulfillment. She wanted him inside her. "Take me," she begged, twisting under his unrelenting hand. He refused to heed her plea, keeping up his teasing of her body. Her responses grew more heated, fevered. Her fingers delved into his shoulders, and a strangled moan escaped her throat as she gave herself to the moment, her hungry body crackling as intensely as the flames in the hearth. Tensing reflexively, she arched her back, crying out as the ferocity of her orgasm flooded through her entire being.
Morgan escaped her hold, pushing her skirt up around her hips, hooking his fingers in her white panties, peeling them slowly over her hips and down her legs. The touch of his fingers burned a blazing, delicious trail that sent shivers of delight up her spin. With a secret wise smile, he discarded them with a flick of his hand.
Her vision blurred by the haze of sensuality, Julienne tensed, not knowing what to expect next. She only knew that she didn't want him to stop. Ever. She squirmed in pleasure when he moved his body lower and ran his hands down the insides of her legs, then slid them insidiously up the softness of her inner thighs. He positioned one of her legs over his shoulder and dipped his head, parting the silken curtain between her legs with exploring fingers. His head dipped lower, whiskers scraping her tender flesh. Sampling her honeyed nectars, he used the warm motion of his mouth to drive her on to a new desire, kissing, nibbling and exploring, giving her a merciless lashing with his tongue.
Julienne opened to him willingly, relishing the all-consuming ache spreading through her. She was shocked she possessed the boldness to seduce him, much less be on the library floor as he performed, freely and at his leisure, exquisite oral sex. Instinct made her raise her hips, an offering, a hint, that she would not be easily satisfied. She urged him on with frantic, half-coherent cries to take her, use her as he wanted.
Morgan maddeningly refused to be hurried. He withdrew his mouth and began to ply her anew with his fingers, driving her into a mad frenzy, quickening the thrust against the pulsing bud of her womanhood. Her hips began to tremble in a flurry bordering on desperation. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, underscored by her soft pleading. He slowed his pace, teasing the soft nub between her legs with long, slow strokes. And just when she was certain that she could reach no higher plane of ecstasy, her second release came, so violently that she screamed out in the throes of magnificent animal orgasm. Her head thrashed from side to side, her skin slick with sweat, air pungent with the fragrance of her sex.
Morgan ran his hands up her quivering body, leaning over her to deliver a kiss spiced with the perfume of her femininity. She tasted herself on his lips, sucking greedily at him. When their kiss ended, she laughed hoarsely, exhausted, basking in the marvelous afterglow.
Raising himself on one elbow, he drew away, studying her spent, weak as a kitten body. He smiled lazily, stroking her breast, rolling the peak of her nipple between thumb and index finger with an unhurried, thrilling deliberation. She felt soft, warm and luscious, like rich, dark, melted chocolate. If he were hoping to arouse her anew, he was succeeding.
"Now for you," she whispered, reaching again for the buttons of his pants.
Shaking his head, he sat up, reaching for his cigarettes on the end table. "Slow down, woman."
Puzzled by his behavior, hurt by his refusal to make love to her, Julienne gulped, "Why not? Don't you…?"
"Want you?" he finished, extracting a cigarette and lighting it.
Unable to speak past the hard knot in her throat, she nodded.
"Most desperately," he admitted, drawing deeply on the brown cylinder. He released an intense stream of smoke.
"Then why aren't we?" she asked, aching from the emptiness inside her.
"I do not want you to feel used," he said, a strangely tense expression coloring his features. His reply stunned her.
"But…you said this would only be physical," she stammered. "No involvement. Just sex."
His eyes crinkled in thought. "That is not what you want. You are looking for more, I think."
Julienne sat up, pulling her skirt down. She straightened her bra, buttoning her blouse with shaking hands. He couldn't have doused her desire faster than if he'd pitched her in a pool of icy water. She felt ashamed, used. Yet she could hardly lay all the blame on him. She'd bought this down on her own head. Jesus, she hadn't even given him time to adjust to the end of his relationship with Ashleigh before she'd pounced all over him
like a wanton hussy.
Yet, he'd made the first moves, making it clear he wanted her. When he was drunk, her mind filled in, and hurting from his breakup. And what about me, letting loneliness push me into doing exactly what I said I wouldn't. Getting involved with him is a mistake, my own fault if he hurts me.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed. "I just…" She tried to rise, wanting to leave. He tossed his cigarette into the fire and caught her wrist, holding her back. She tried to tug away, but he tightened his grip, refusing to let her go. She couldn't meet his gaze when he pulled her down into his lap. She submitted, too weak to resist him, burying her face on his shoulder.
"Do not be ashamed of your desires, Julienne," he whispered in her ear. "The needs of the flesh are strong. You are a vital, sexual woman. Enjoy the moment and take it for what it is."
"What about you?" she asked, unintended tears stinging her eyes. "What about your needs?"
"I have never taken a Blackthorne woman as a lover," he murmured, stroking the soft pulse in her throat. "I need time to think about this." His other hand began to move with tantalizing slowness up her spine to the nape of her neck, his fingers caressing her with tenderness before brushing over her shoulders and down to the curve of her breast. Her nipple rose against his touch, sending exquisite feelings jolting through her every nerve.
"Think about what?" she gasped, ashamed he so easily aroused her but too weak to get up and walk away.
"About us," he said, and began his magnificent carnal attack on her body, renewing the whole fervid rite with a scorching intensity that left her breathless and shaken.
Chapter Twenty
Morgan lay on the bed, arms folded behind his head, fingers laced. Outside, the storms of the night were beginning to break. Through half-drawn drapes, a pallid varicolored light filtered in, emanating from the uncomfortable morning sunshine. In the last two weeks, the air had been bitten with frost, a hint that October was settling in.
Rolling onto his side, he propped himself up. Beside him, Julienne was burrowed under the covers, a spill of fiery red hair across her pillow. Eyes closed, lips parted in soft repose, she slept soundly. Unlike her, he rested above the covers, fully dressed. As he gazed down on her sleeping face, a slow secret smile curved his lips. Since they'd become intimate, he'd spent his nights with her, teasing this tigress with techniques only time and experience could teach a man. Though he'd steadfastly refused to consummate their relationship, he'd proven there were still many ways to satisfy a woman.