ShiftingHeat

by Lynne Connolly

  When she opened her mouth wide and twined her tongue with his, he tasted her desperation. He didn’t think she needed the oblivion of frantic sex, not now. And he had the sense of being used to help her forget. He didn’t want to do that, so he drew away, resting his hands on her hips. “Come on. A hot bath, a good meal and bed. You need pampering.” He’d much rather care for her than be the vessel she used to gain some ease. At least tonight, when she needed comforting and he needed to comfort her just as badly.

  Although Andros couldn’t say he’d taken to cooking, he’d found some great places that would provide him with good meals to stock his freezer. He mentally went over the contents and decided on poached salmon with basil. He’d bought a few servings of that dish. He’d call the place and get them to deliver after their bath. Deliveries to STORM were a bit more complicated, since he had to go down and collect it, rather than allow them access to the building. Another reason for having a place of his own. He gave a wry grin. He could get away from STORM and the pressures here. Then he wouldn’t be so tempted to go downstairs and work when he couldn’t sleep.

  With this woman beside him, he wouldn’t feel the temptation to leave his bed quite so often.

  Andros took her to his bathroom and turned on the faucets. He had a nice, big corner tub, easily big enough for two. Three at a squeeze, but he wasn’t planning to invite anyone else into their relationship. He undressed her while the bath filled, touching her body but not lingering to kiss and fondle. Not yet. Easy does it.

  Remembering his sister’s constant reminders when he was growing up to act like a gentleman, never to forget his manners, Andros helped her into the tub before he stripped quickly and joined her. He’d have to call Ania later, but she’d probably turned her cell off in the hospital.

  He brushed Faye’s hair away from her shoulder and dropped a gentle kiss there as he drew her back against him. His cock was already erect, pressing insistently against her back, but he wouldn’t give way to the urge yet. Instead, he picked up the soap, wishing it was something sweetly perfumed for her instead of his usual unscented, simple brand. But it would do. She smelled sweet enough.

  He rubbed the soap between his hands and put it down before he curved his arms around her and cupped her breasts, massaging them, the suds adding a slick silkiness to his actions. He paused to tweak her nipples, her sharp gasp in response coming as music to his ears and he continued, stroking her skin in increasingly wider circles. Her head went back against his shoulder and she moaned. “That feels so good. Have you had training or something?”

  “I just picked up a few techniques.” Now was definitely not the time to tell her how he’d learned relaxing massage. Hours of physiotherapy to keep his legs from becoming totally useless, fighting an enemy everyone knew would win eventually had, after all, had some benefits. He’d learned how to restore circulation, to keep his body moving and how to relax it at the end of a long session. Then he’d dated a physiotherapist, who’d taught him much more interesting ways to use massage.

  He kept his movements slow and steady, returning to caress her breasts, using a figure eight shape. He loved the way her lovely breasts responded to his touch, loved their soft femininity, the way her nipples peaked while the rest of her slowly unwound. Moving to her neck, he felt the knots of tension ease under his hands, the stiffness of her upper back slowly giving way to supple relaxation.

  He couldn’t resist leaving kisses on the skin he’d smoothed, after he’d rinsed it clear of soapsuds. But he made them small, undemanding, occasionally flicking out his tongue to taste her, but no more than that.

  Rising, he climbed out of the tub and then got in opposite her, rather than urge her to move. Now he faced her he rubbed her legs, coaxing the hard muscles to relax under his relentless but gentle strokes. Moving from ankle to calf to thigh, he eventually reached her cleft. His hand grazed her clit and he looked up at her soft moan.

  She was leaning against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, head back, but at his touch she whimpered and her head went up. Her gaze met his, dark and wondering. A smile slowly grew. “Can you massage that?”

  “It won’t be the relaxing session I’d planned.” He tweaked her clit. “But I think it’ll help you relax in the long term.”

  She chuckled low in her throat and his cock responded as if she had a string attached to it. He straightened and let her see before he moved closer, draped her legs over his. She watched him through half-closed eyes, her tension filling the air. But this time it was pleasurable anticipation and not strain. He could do this. He loved doing this.

  Letting his hand graze her clit again, he stroked her, so softly she would hardly be able to feel it. “You can open to me if you want,” he said, guessing she might still be wary. “This apartment is sealed off from the rest of STORM, except for emergency contact. Nobody can sense you, not the greatest Sorcerer. My psi teacher Chase Maynord set up the barriers for me.” He wished Chase was in town to cope with this operation with him, but he was away—in England. Chase Maynord was one Sorcerer most people had heard of, being high profile, the owner of a chain of hotels and a member of New York’s elite. Serena was good, but she didn’t have Chase’s warmth and humanity.

  He felt Faye’s pleasure softly filtering into his mind and he returned it, gave her his. Blending sexual pleasure could become addictive, especially with someone he felt attuned to. It filled him with well-being, a sense of floating.

  Touching her could become addictive too. Soft silk, underlaid with a firmness he had yet to test. Her clit rose, hardened, and when he glanced up he saw her nipples tighten. Watching teasing her, he could do this forever.

  Andros pressed a little harder. Her response was to slide farther down toward him, pushing into his hand. But he didn’t want this to end yet so he backed off a little, continuing with his steady pressure. He slid his finger and thumb over her clit, holding it a little firmer, relishing the hot, tight little bud. He manipulated it only a little. Enough to make her gasp. Now she’d let him in, he could control his progress better, gauge how much harder to push. He glided over her opening. That wasn’t just water causing the slick wetness that invited him in.

  “I can see that grin,” she murmured. “Don’t feel so pleased with yourself.”

  “Why not?” Actually he was feeling a bit smug. “I’m taking you up and then I’ll hold you while you come down.”

  Her eyes opened wider, just a fraction, and he felt a splinter of concern in her mind.

  “All that exists is now. It’s tonight, here and now and this second.” The philosophy that had seen him through so much in the past stood him in good stead now. She relaxed again, the only tension remaining that of her growing heat and arousal. Her mind opened a little more.

  He pleasured her, his fingers dancing along her central crease, easing just inside and then teasing her, taking some of her juices to smear over her clit and resume playing again. Her arousal rose, grew and encompassed most of her mind. He loved it, her response and his control, the way she trusted him to do this for her. She had such a lovely pussy, pink, damp. Sweet.

  He added a few choice words to his playing. “You’re so pretty like this. Your nipples are hard, so hard. Play with them for me. Let me see you touch yourself.”

  She brought her hands out of the water and cupped her breasts.

  “Oh so beautiful.” He encouraged her, his fingers exerting more pressure, his own arousal growing almost unbearable as she twisted her nipples, squeezed her breasts until the flesh escaped her fingers.

  He worked her, brought her up to screaming point—nearly. Until he leaned forward and lifted her. His cock needed no help finding its way to her pussy, sliding home without him trying, knowing where it belonged. As did he. Hot silky flesh enveloped him, surrounded him, made him want more and still more.

  With his arms around her waist, he guided her, not wanting any sudden movements. Not yet. “Just enjoy, sweetness. Let it happen. Don’t force it.” Spreading one hand,
he caressed the curve from her waist to her hip, then encompassed the slight swell of her stomach, feeling her tighten her muscles. He slid his thumb down, just touched her clit. She jumped but he held her steady so she didn’t go far. She gazed down at him, her expression softer than he’d seen before. Again, he rejoiced that she’d trusted him and let him in. He read suffering, though she kept some doors in her mind closed so he couldn’t see exactly what that suffering entailed. She’d come through it all. He had one hell of a woman here. He let himself relax into the pattern of her mind, learning its nuances and rhythms, opening his so she could do the same, if she wanted to.

  Together they moved. She kneeled on the floor of the tub and used her thigh muscles, lifting as he withdrew, bearing down as he thrust. Every time his cock sank into her soft depths it was like entering heaven all over again. Her juices flowed over him and they moved, easy as a dance they’d performed many times before, new as the dawn.

  Their minds met, blended and joined in bliss, their delight mutual. Andros couldn’t have separated their experiences or the visions that floated across their combined consciousness even if he’d wanted to. Her firm, delicious flesh, her taste when he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked in time to their dance.

  “So good, you feel so good,” he murmured to her, touching his tongue to her shoulder, just to touch her, to taste her.

  “We feel so good.” She rested her head on his. “Your hair is so soft. And so pale.”

  “Polish.” He grinned, tipping his head back to stare into her eyes. “Though I’m American, born and bred.”

  He felt the question in her mind and answered it before she articulated it. “Twenty-six, I’m twenty-six. Are you cradle-robbing?” Talents appeared young until shortly before their death, so he couldn’t tell by looking at her.

  “Something like that.” She sank down on him. “Though right now that’s not what I’m feeling.”

  Increasing their movements incrementally, they worked toward their climax. Waves of sensation prickled his skin, rising now and he gave way, let them take over.

  Her muscles stiffened, tightened and his balls drew in close to his body. Pleasure-pain racked his body and like a burst of lightning in a cloudy sky, it came. He came. She came, the involuntary clenching of her pussy driving him higher. Semen surged up his cock. He felt its progress, a searing tidal wave consuming him until he gave himself completely to it.

  Their cries mingled, each other’s names and screams of wordless, mindless joy.

  And it was over. Except that it wasn’t. As sure as he knew his name, he knew they’d experience it again.

  Their minds remained open to each other and he rejoiced. She trusted him enough to let him in real deep, although not yet all the way. His mother had once told him that every woman deserved to keep a few secrets, and he guessed that went for shape-shifters too.

  Then he tensed. His love of music, linked to his facility at math, had improved his ability to notice patterns, rhythms, shapes, and something here wasn’t right. Something here didn’t belong to her or to him.

  Her eyes snapped open. “What is it?”

  “Wait, hold still.” The next moment he was sure of it. “I think someone planted a compulsion in your mind.”

  She jerked off him, sending the water splashing over the edge of the tub. “What do you mean? Serena said she couldn’t find anything initially.”

  “Maybe she didn’t look close enough. Maybe she didn’t look in the right place. But it’s here.”

  She reacted badly, drawing her knees up to her chest and bending over in a gesture of protection. “Can you get it out? Where is it? Show me?”

  A compulsion was a block someone planted in another’s mind. Talented society considered them illegal, as was any form of deliberate manipulation by one person on another. Not that it stopped people doing it. Persuasion was one thing, something not approved of, but context mattered. Not compulsion, the intrusion, the rape of one mind by another. He hid the word quickly, although that was how he felt about that ugly block he could see clearly now. He outlined it, concentrated, turned his outline to a glowing shape. “Can you see it now?”

  He felt her consciousness join him. Yes. Her voice held a sob. “Get rid of it, Andros.”

  He swallowed. “I don’t know if I can. Can you help?”

  I think so.

  There it was, the barrier. Like a hypnotist crooning “believe me”, Nordheim had done this to her. The area breathed his name. Andros read his identity as easily as if the professor had signed it. “Together. Work at it like you’d chip at a block of stone. Eventually it should crumble and dissolve.”

  He started at one end and she took the other. It was an ugly, knotted shape he wanted gone, but not as much as she did. The shape changed, lost its solidity as they attacked it, bore into it. Exhaustion gripped him but he wouldn’t give up until it was all gone.

  They met in the middle. Nothing remained of the obstacle blocking some impulses, and now they had destroyed it, they could both see what he’d blocked. Her ability to question Nordheim, and a strong compulsion to believe him without question.

  “The fucking bastard.” Andros wasn’t aware he’d spoken aloud until she agreed with him, also verbally.

  He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “All gone.”

  “Yes. Hold me, Andros.” She shivered and only then did he realize the water had gone cold. He had no idea how long they’d taken until then. An hour. Jesus, he hadn’t realized. But she needed caring for now, so he climbed out and went to the shower stall, flicked on the water.

  He took her into the shower and held her until they both warmed up, and then dried her with one of his thick, fluffy white towels. By then the color had returned to her skin and although she didn’t speak much, she responded to his gentle questions. He kept to their current state. Was she warm enough, did she want a drink, did she want a separate bed?

  Yes, no and no.

  He took her to bed and watched her sleep, content just having her here.

  Chapter Five

  Faye didn’t forget his cradle-robbing crack, although she made no reference to it afterward. Twenty-six. He was twenty-six. And yet with his mastery in bed, she had taken the passive role and loved every minute of it. Not that she didn’t take control. After waking and using the bathroom, she returned to bed to find he’d thrown off most of the covers, exposing his delectable body.

  She took a moment to admire him. Not a muscular bodybuilder type, but with a strong, well-developed body that showed his determination to recover after the disease that could have killed him. She wanted to run her tongue over every strong curve, feel him flex his body as he woke.

  Then there was that other item that had given her so much pleasure earlier that night. Lying against his thigh now, as dormant as its owner, she thought she knew what to do about that. It’d had enough time to recuperate.

  Smiling devilishly, she climbed back on to the bed and straddled him, careful not to touch him just yet. Pausing, she watched him to ensure he slept on. His deep breathing continued unabated. She bent over him, let her breath bathe him, and examined his cock. She approved, enjoying the sight of his cock head in repose, a part of him the protective foreskin would cover, if he had one. Its warmth called to her, the soft, smooth skin tempted her to taste, and the scent of their lovemaking made her pussy wet. Moisture trickled down one thigh and she moved it slightly so it wouldn’t touch him and wake him. She knew exactly when she wanted him awake.

  This was fun.

  He stirred and she held her breath. He reached out an arm, swept it down the sheet and sighed when he couldn’t find her. Time to act. Faye pushed her hair behind her shoulders, bent and licked the very tip of his cock, taking his unique, delicious flavor as her own.

  His musky scent enveloped her and she breathed deep, inhaling what she was about to taste. Planting her hands on either side of his thighs for balance, she took him into her mouth and sucked.

  Then she licked,
savoring the flavor of what she’d just drawn from him. Only a tiny bit, but his cock stirred and she felt it come to life against her tongue as he awoke, hardening, thickening and lengthening.

  A tiny groan, a gasp of shock and then his fingers cupped her skull, threaded through her hair. His grip tightened when she sucked harder and took him deeper and his groan became a word. Her name.

  His thighs tensed in an involuntary reaction to her deep sucking. She gripped his cock, the part that wouldn’t fit into her mouth unless she deep throated him, and worked it in time to her sucking. When she paused to lick and taste, he moaned. “Not much more, please, sweetheart.” He twisted under her as if to escape, but his cries and moans told her that wasn’t really what he wanted. She slipped into his mind, into the deeper part where she could feel his emotions, and a thrill shot through her when she realized she’d met no resistance. A knife into butter couldn’t have gone in more smoothly. And by reading him, she could make it better for him.

  A heady feeling, to have a man totally in her power.

  She drew him to the back of her throat but decided not to go further today. She wanted this to be a smooth, joyful experience as though he were waking up to orgasm, and gagging wouldn’t enhance that.

  She didn’t speak into his mind but shared her pleasure with him, all of it, even the feelings of control. He responded with happiness and gratitude, a sign of a strong man. Because it took a strong man to give up control, to give himself up to someone else.

  His arousal rose, in her mind as well as his, and he grasped her shoulder with his free hand. “No more, please. Or I’ll come.”

  Her only response was to chuckle, deliberately letting the vibrations circle his cock and ending with a hum. He tensed and bucked so that she had to draw on the strength of her dragon to keep him steady so she could finish her task.

  His breathless laugh told her he knew what she’d done. Besides, the communication went both ways and he’d probably sensed the rise of the dragon in her. Starving for his taste, she concentrated on the changes. The way his balls tightened and the salty flavor turned deeper, thicker, more musky as his orgasm became inevitable.