Her Miracle Man

by Nikki Duncan

  Jennalyn gasped. Ryland’s hands were gentle as he gripped her hips and pulled her against his body. His kiss was anything but the tender caress she’d grown to expect.

  His urgency swept through her. She worked the buckle of his belt free and pulled the strip of leather from the loops in a yank that ended with a backlash slap against her thigh. The shocking sting of leather heightened her awareness.

  Ryland shrugged out of his coat, dropped it on the floor and then removed hers. They hurried through the act of stripping one another of barriers. When they stood, short minutes later, naked, they paused for a deep breath and survey of bodies.

  Peace eased through the room like a welcoming spirit. A first in over a year, Jennalyn was without the shadow of her past or of her family. She didn’t carry the demands of running a business. Nothing mattered beyond the man before her and the way he made her feel.

  And how he made her feel was…light. Free.

  Knowing she couldn’t explain herself, knowing there weren’t enough of the right words in her purview, she took Ryland’s hand in hers and led him to her room. With a not-so-gentle nudge, she pushed him onto the bed. He lay, gloriously naked and aroused, and waited for her with a smile on his kissable lips.

  He wasn’t thin or overly muscular, but his lean and nicely toned body was evidence that he worked out and ate right. The understated power added to his appeal.

  “You awaken a side of me I’d forgotten existed.”

  “I won’t apologize for that.”

  “I’m not asking you to.” She knelt between his legs and placed her hands on his knees. “Consider this a thank you.”

  “Jennalyn, I don’t want—”

  She leaned over and swiped her tongue along the length of him. His words died on a moan. She licked him again, swirling the tip of her tongue around the head of his erection. He arched his hips off the mattress. Her inner muscles clenched in anticipation. The thrill of arousing him was an arousal.

  The flow of her body against his, skin to skin and heat to heat, beckoned. Answering passion’s call, she took him in her mouth. Her jaw muscles protested the stretch required to accommodate his thickness. Even the minor discomfort was a pleasure, because it came with a feeling of pure goodness she’d been too long without.

  Closing her eyes, hoping to lock the memory tight, she eased him out and in. He slid along the roof of her mouth, bumped the back of her throat. Shifting, she took him deeper until her gag reflex passed.

  She’d always wondered what it would be like to cradle a man in her mouth, but she’d never felt comfortable enough to do it. Another barrier dropped away somewhere deep in her heart.

  “Jennalyn.” His hands fell to her shoulders. His fingers bit into her flesh. “You have to stop.”

  She sucked against him. Relished the jerk of him against her tongue. He flattened a palm on her head, stopping her ability to move.

  “Are you trying to make me disgrace myself?” He sounded out of breath, like he’d been strangled, and his voice was raw.

  She eased him out and wiggled up his body.

  “An orgasm is never a disgrace.” She punctuated each word with a kiss to his neck. He vibrated beneath her. His reactions fed hers and had her body responding in vibrations that struck deep in her tissues. Her inner walls clenched.

  “I’m glad you feel that way.” He flipped her to her back and jumped off the bed. After a quick trip to her closet, he returned with the belt to her robe.

  “Ryland?”

  “I have a fantasy that involves you, that iron headboard and a tie.”

  As if she couldn’t tell from the gleam in his eyes, she asked, “What kind of fantasy?”

  “The kind where you relinquish all control.” He crawled onto the bed. She inched away from him, moving closer to the headboard. The idea excited and scared her simultaneously.

  “Where you trust me fully with your safety and pleasure.”

  Worded like that, trust was the easiest thing to give him. He’d made her laugh, held her during her lowest moments and given her silent support when she’d battled emotions. He’d helped her rediscover the magic of what had promised to be a crappy time of year and shown her fun while promising more in his silvery eyes. Scooting back the last couple inches, she raised her hands over her head and gripped the rails.

  “I’m all yours.”

  Grinning, he tied her up. He kept the tie loose, which meant she could change position if she wanted. Or he did it so she didn’t feel too trapped. “How do you feel about a blindfold?”

  “Go for it.” The agreement—instant and excited—took her off guard. She was agreeing to things she’d refused with past lovers.

  After a quick kiss, he returned to her closet for a silk scarf. The moment he covered her eyes, her other senses kicked into high gear. She became aware of her body on a new level.

  The smell of sex, or at least the scents she would now connect with sex, surrounded her. The cinnamon from her elf potpourri bowl mixed with the musk of Ryland’s cologne. She breathed deep, drew the sensations and rich oxygen to her muscles. Her body relaxed as if she’d absorbed a heady drug.

  The bed dipped and swayed as Ryland moved. Then there was no movement. His musky scent disappeared. The air stilled.

  “Ryland?”

  Silence.

  He wouldn’t have left her. Not after asking for her trust. But he wasn’t answering.

  “Ryland?”

  Still he didn’t answer. Her pulse kicked in a double beat. She was alone, blind and bound.

  Then the air shifted again. It grew warmer. Friendlier.

  She was no longer alone and the idea had her smiling. “You left me.”

  “Only for a minute.” The edge of the bed dropped. “Did you miss me?”

  “Strangely, yes.” It wasn’t actually so strange, but she wasn’t going to think about that or share the admission and feed his ego.

  He chuckled. It was a low rumble that shook her awareness and ramped up her curiosity.

  “I wonder if you really missed me or if you thought I’d left you.”

  She said nothing. She didn’t need to because they both knew the truth. Her trust reached only so far. The day on the ice had made her look at who she trusted. She’d been able to think only of Chrissy. Until Ryland offered his hand. Knowing it now, she had no doubt where it had stemmed from. Kris. He had used Sabrina and the resulting demands on her time as a reason to have an affair. Opening herself up to more of the same did not sit high on Jennalyn’s list.

  “I am not going to abandon you…”

  Ryland’s whispered assurance trailed off as though he almost said more. He saw into her, but she wasn’t the only one hesitant to share all of herself.

  “I am going to make love to you though.”

  A rustle came from the bedside table. Plastic. And something else. Then a trail of ice-cold sensation swept across her breasts. She sucked in a breath, arched into the caress as her skin absorbed the moisture left behind by the ice.

  Not seeing him or knowing what he’d do next was deliciously wicked. The scents grew richer. His touch hypnotized. She wanted more. She got more.

  He trailed the ice around one nipple until it stood stiff and puckered. When he moved the ice around the second nipple his fingers replaced the ice on the first. They were as cold as the ice as he pinched her lightly.

  She shook from head to toenail. Moving her hips, she tried to rub herself, to ease the ache throbbing between her legs. Only one thing would ease her desire, and she suspected he was going to make her wait a little longer.

  “You’re wet aren’t you?”

  She shifted again. Her slickened thighs rubbed easily together. “Yes.”

  “You’re going to be wetter before I take you.”

  She hadn’t had a lot of lovers and none had talked during sex. It seemed naughty, and that thought only carried her deeper into his seductive web.

  Delivering on unspoken promises that fulfilled those spoken,
Ryland slid the shrinking ice between her breasts, down her stomach, over her pelvis and across her lower abdomen. A layer of cold lingered to be dried by the air. Her skin erupted with goose bumps. Each tiny bump became a supercharged nerve center. Then he pulled back.

  Expecting him to move lower still, to use his icy fingers at the center of her ache, Jennalyn was stunned. He’d wanted her wetter. She was. So much so that she would certainly orgasm without him. If he’d read her that clearly and held himself on a tight enough leash to stop an onward plunge she was in real trouble.

  Ryland was in real trouble.

  He’d once thought the desire to kiss Jennalyn would pass after a kiss or two. That it had only made him want her with a gnawing hunger should have prepared him for the outcome of taking things further. A part of him had held on to the idea that he could keep things casual.

  With her bound and blindfolded, waiting for his next touch, he accepted that things were not casual for him. He’d been tied up long before her. She could escape with a word. He would always be her captive.

  “Ryland?”

  Her questioning plea rescued him from his habit of overthinking things. Doing was a much more appealing thought.

  “Turn over.”

  “Pardon?”

  It was excitement not fear that he heard in her voice. The same excitement roared in his veins, bubbling and heating his body, filling his brain. He had to expel a pent-up breath before he could speak.

  “Turn over.” He phrased the request like a gentle command. He would accept her refusal if she put it out there, but he hoped she didn’t.

  “I’m tied up.”

  “You’re loose enough. The belt will twist and allow you to hold the bar.”

  “As you wish.” The corner of her lip twitched. She liked whatever images filled her head. “You want me flat or on my knees?”

  His arousal—already a bit painful from his restraint—thickened. “Do you have a preference?”

  “I couldn’t say.”

  “You’ve never…” He closed his eyes, bit his lip. The woman was giving him all the power. Maybe he’d be less inclined to take her like an animal the moment she turned over if her gloriously curved ass wasn’t sticking in the air. “Flat.”

  “As you wish.” She turned over and wiggled into the pillows to settle comfortably.

  Her naked backside and a spear-shaped birthmark riding high on one butt cheek taunted him. Fisting his hands for a moment, he prayed for control he wasn’t sure would last if it came. With a bump of his knee against the inside of hers, she spread her legs. Ryland nestled himself between her warm thighs. The arousal glistening on her silken skin captivated him.

  An idea came to Ryland, daring him to make all kinds of crazy demands to see where her limits were. How much could he ask for before she stopped quoting The Princess Bride?

  He released a long exhale as he bent over and placed his hands on either side of her for support. The urge to devour ravaged his body, attacking his restraint faster than a parasite eating through antibodies.

  He was helpless against the inevitable. He didn’t want a cure.

  Intent on kissing her neck, he lowered himself. His mouth pressed against her skin. The kiss became a nibble. The nibble became a need to suck until he marked her.

  She arched into him, plastering her body to his. Back to chest, ass to dick, thigh to thigh. Snug against her with his blood becoming an inferno of hormones, Ryland was sure he’d burn. He sucked harder. She writhed, trying to get closer.

  His lungs seized. On a gasp he pushed off her. The move only pressed his lower body more firmly against hers. Clenched teeth were no match for his need, but damn if his jaw didn’t shake beneath the force.

  Shoving back to sit on his heels, he broke all contact. The move might have given him enough distance to breathe a few deep breaths. All it really did was give him a clear view of Jennalyn’s swollen sex. Waiting. Calling.

  He grabbed the condom he’d dropped on the bed earlier and ripped it open. The thin layer of rubber promised no help in lasting longer, because even the brush of his own fingers as he rolled the protection into place had the pressure building.

  “Ryland.” Jennalyn shifted, raising her hips off the bed.

  “Yes?” The word became strangled as it shoved through his closing windpipe.

  “Hurry up.”

  “Bossy.” Easing forward, he lifted her into his lap. Her thin legs stretched along either side of his hips.

  “You’re taking too long.” Her body echoed her claim as she shifted higher, rubbing her weeping center against him.

  He squeezed his eyes closed. His jaw shook harder.

  She shifted again.

  His back muscles spasmed. Low. Hot.

  With a growl, he grabbed her hips and drove into her. One thrust to the hilt wasn’t enough. Two, three and four weren’t enough. He could spend hours inside her and still crave her.

  She matched his pace, moving with him in perfect sync. Each glide against her squeezing walls pushed him a little closer to the ledge. Sweat dampened his hairline. Ran down his neck.

  Jennalyn grabbed a rail of the headboard and pulled herself up. The shift buried him deeper. His balls tightened with the coming orgasm. Fire raged in and around him. He took her breasts in his hands, savoring the way their bodies fit while trying to be gentle, but the passionate moan that escaped her shattered his intentions. Massaging, squeezing tighter, he thrust deeper.

  The world erupted into shards of vibrant color as he followed her around the orgasmic bend.

  Chapter Twelve

  The leafless trees lining the sidewalks of the Circle were wrapped in multi-hued Christmas lights. Festive lights and wreaths, trees and holiday-themed windows surrounded them while cheerful carols crescendoed and faded as shop doors opened and closed. Across the Circle, the windows of an office building had been covered with a large white screen that would show It’s A Wonderful Life as soon as it was dark enough.

  People were scouting seats on the steps of the Circle, covering them with pillows, quilts and padded seats for comfort. The efforts for comfort and the layers of clothes needed for warmth would lose importance when the Circle swelled with the crowds of people. The spirit of the festivities would fill the air as intangible but as real as oxygen.

  Enjoying the relaxed mood and some window-shopping, Ryland and Jennalyn walked along the outer sidewalks. Viv, a girl who was seeing her first Christmas clearly thanks to a cornea transplant, walked between them. Viv’s parents had scouted out the perfect spot for the movie where they could lean against the base of the monument. They held the seats while Jennalyn and Ryland took Viv to see the theatrics that was the Circle at Christmas.

  It was almost as grand as Main Street at Disney during the night parade. Shop owners set up booths outside their stores, giving away cups of hot chocolate, apple cider and eggnog. A small bar even gave away hot toddies to interested adults. A candy store gave away Christmas-themed candies and The Chocolate Cafe gave out sample after sample.

  “I look at this every day, but I’ve never seen it as I see it tonight.” Ryland said quietly.

  “Ryland.” A man who looked to be in his late forties smiles as he passed a bag of Christmas pretzels to Viv. “You find you some women to share the movie with you?”

  “Luckily.” Ryland made brief introductions to the café’s manager and then steered them on.

  “Joshua seems nice.”

  “He is. But he’d keep us talking all through the movie if we let him.” The statement was made with fondness, so Jennalyn knew Ryland liked the man.

  Viv pulled the attention back to her and talked about anything and everything that came to mind. As seemed to be the case with most seven-year-olds, a lot of things popped into her mind. The night’s fun came from seeing everything as Viv saw them. Before she could remember seeing the sights of Christmas, her corneas had begun to deteriorate. Without a vision-saving transplant she’d have gone blind, but she’d receive
d her Christmas miracle.

  “I can’t decide if I like the white lights or the colored lights the best,” Viv prattled on as she wound a piece of cinnamon cotton candy around her tiny finger. “The white ones I like in the fake snow. They make everything sparkly.”

  “But the colored ones?” Ryland’s question was for Viv, but the smile in his eyes was for Jennalyn as they both recalled a similar conversation.

  “The colored ones are so fun. When they do their blink blink blink it makes me think of fairies dancing. Like maybe they’ve been trapped inside the little glass cover and want to get free.”

  “My sister loved the colored ones the best. Only her opinion was that each light was a wish an angel had granted.” Jennalyn allowed Sabrina’s theory to push Viv’s sadder one aside. Hoping to pull Viv to her way of thinking, she stopped by a pole wrapped in a strand of fat colored lights. “Maybe one of these is shining in celebration of your eyes.”

  Viv studied the bulbs for a moment. Her head cocked a little to the right and she stuck her lower lip out a tad. Jennalyn could all but hear the hum of her thoughts as she considered the new possibility. It didn’t matter if she chose to adopt Sabrina’s theory or not, it was still Jennalyn’s preference.

  “Trapped fairies do seem a little sad now that I think about it.” Viv nodded, first slowly and then more enthusiastically. “Yeah. I like the granted wishes better.”

  “It’s a beautiful sentiment.” Ryland slid a hand beneath Jennalyn’s scarf and gave her neck a light squeeze. “I would even go so far as to suggest that the clear ones are tears of the same angels because while they can’t grant every wish, every wish deserves to be recognized.”

  Viv shrugged and walked on a couple steps ahead of them. Dancing reindeer in a window captured her attention and had her telling a story about a Christmas concert at school the year before. The kids wore their pajamas and reindeer antlers while they sang “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”. Her delight at the memory was infectious, but Ryland’s explanation of the lights resonated.

  Sabrina and their mother had come up with the explanation of the colored lights. It had always made Jennalyn smile to hear them make up stories about possible wishes. She’d never given any thought to the same kind of game in regards to the clear lights. Now that Ryland had planted the seed, though, it had taken root.