Could you die from pleasure? She thought so. The sweet ache of desire had turned into a biting hunger. He touched her like he knew every single secret pleasure point in her body, and a few she herself didn’t know about. She expected skill from him. The legends promised no less. But she never imagined the devastating finesse he wielded.
Jack could be the ultimate enemy, and the best lover she’d ever taken. He could destroy her, and he could bring her mind-blowing, nerve-wracking orgasms. His thumb flicked hard over her tight, swollen clit, sending lightning coursing through her. “Jack,” she said, breathless, “please.” Mercy. And more. Gods don’t stop.
“Tell me, Raine. What do you want?” His hot breath tickled her ear. Gooseflesh pricked her skin as the beginnings of another climax shook loose.
“Say it, or I won’t give it to you,” he cooed.
“Don’t—make—me—beg,” she gasped, hips moving faster against him as she sought release. Don’t make me say what I really want, she thought, as her womb contracted. His fingers were brilliant, but the real ache tightening like a vice in her pussy was for his cock. That hard length of male flesh she’d pressed up against, and stared at with such fascination, that’s what she needed. Right now.
She wanted that. Dreaded that. Hated herself just a little for needing it so badly. Wild Elven blood and magic had cursed her, and she’d never cared less for the consequence in her life. The whole world had skinnied down to them, on this train, engaged in reckless abandon. The raw, burning moment of bliss was all that mattered. “Please.”
He angled his thumb again, lightly stroking her sensitive nub in a circular, maddening motion. Heat swarmed through her, burning like a fire fed with rocket fuel. She smelled and tasted sex as her body endured the torment. Small, powerful explosions began to rock her core. Jack’s well-practiced ministrations held her fast, dangling over a dangerous precipice. Her thighs began to shake and quiver. Fuck me, she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. Fuck me until I can’t think or breath or move.
Gently, he kissed her forehead. “I want to make love to you. For real, Raine. I want you in a place where I can take my time. But this will have to do for now.”
He knelt, removing his fingers, leaving her high and dry. She made an inarticulate sound of protest, but silenced it as he slipped her pants down beyond her hips, and kissed her intimately. Jack braced his hands on her thighs, parted her lips with his thumbs, and laced her labia with a long, fluid lick that sent crazy sensations spiraling through the already aroused nerves. The tip of his talented tongue spiked out at her tenderized clit, then it went wide and soft, over and over, alternating the approach. Mind-blowing sensations flowed from her sexual center as he drove her relentlessly to a place of pleasure she’d never even imagined.
Pressure built and built. Air seemed secondary and unattainable at the moment. She arched instinctively, trying to get closer, trying in vain to obtain release.
“Not yet, Raine.” The attention to her sensitized nub wrenched a desperate cry from her. “Soon.”
Cream flowed thick and steady from her core. She tried to spread further, to give him more access. Her vaginal walls convulsed, seeking fulfillment, empty and longing for him.
“One night, before this is over, princess, I’m going to fuck you into oblivion. Ride you long, and hard. Bury my cock in your tight little pussy and rock your world.” His thumbs alternated strokes on her drenched lips and aching clit. The frank sexual promise of his words fanned flames she didn’t think could get any higher. “Until then, consider this my marker.”
Jack laved her slit, placed two fingers inside her and hooked her G-spot. Her eyes shot closed and she rolled her head back and moaned. The pressure released a brilliant, shattering light of orgasm. But he wasn’t satisfied with such simple devastation. As she cried and bucked beneath his onslaught, he crossed the final line, taking her with him. Jack dipped into her, and sucked the tenderized flesh of her clit between his teeth, stroking back up at the same time to tickle the magic spot deep in her vault.
Pain and pleasure mixed sharp and hard, drenching her in explosive shock waves. Something tight and dangerous that had long been coiled inside of her burst loose. Sweet Gods in heaven. This was way more than orgasmic. There was no describing the waves of pleasure that broke through the aching tension. She was engulfed in the moment, dying in pieces, coming without mercy.
Raine buried her fingers in his hair, mindlessly stroking the silken strands as she dropped over the precipice into sheer bliss. Ecstasy had a long, sweet burn like nothing else. Energy roared through her like a tidal wave, and she rode the pulses, each one more powerful than the other. It was the longest moment of her life. An eternity of sensation concentrated in the blink of an eye. Then, as fast as it started, it was over and she was shaking and breathless and exhausted.
Laughter bubbled up from deep inside of her. No tender sighs to follow such incredible release. The sound was music, liberating, and unstoppable. She had no idea where it had generated from, she’d never laughed with joy after sex before. But Jack was unlike anyone or anything that existed in her before world. She wanted to celebrate, even though she was ready to pass out. It was lunacy. This whole terrible mess. Lunacy. She should feel guilty, maybe dirty even, for jumping into sex with the enemy so soon. Instead, she felt free. Completely, totally free. Like her slate was wiped clean and what went up on the board next was entirely up to her.
Jack chuckled softly along with her as he put her clothes back to right. “Some men might take the laughing as a blow to their manhood.”
He was so completely absurd. And so damned talented. She cast a glance down at the prominent ridge in his pants. “Your manhood looks like it can take a punch.”
“And give one, too.” He grinned wickedly and winked.
She bet it could, and wondered if she’d be crazy enough to find out.
The rocking of the train came to a halt, and it screeched to a standstill in a dark, unmarked tunnel.
“Madden, it’s all you,” a voice crackled over the P.A. “Thanks for riding the train to nowhere. Come again soon.”
“I plan to,” he quipped as he pulled the door open for her. “As soon as possible.”
* * *
A mystic surfed the many psychic waves rolling through the realms, parting threads, moving gently, drawing closer and closer to the target source. So strong, it was easy to lose oneself if not careful. Chaos swirled round the source, a blind and a protector. But the mystic was skilled. And patient. Mixed with chaos was esoteric energy of all wavelengths. The mystic relaxed into the groove, settling in for the long haul. Activity pulsed like a racing heartbeat in the target’s core energy signature, but that wouldn’t last forever. Once things eased up, once the mystic got the lay of the land, it would be simple to dive deeper into the source and extract the required materials.
“How long now?”
“I’ve located the objective. I’ll need more time to work my way through the defenses. To avoid notice I must go slow.”
There was a sigh. Resignation? Frustration? Hard to tell. “Time is of the essence.”
Time. The grand illusion. Particularly to a true immortal. But this was no time for existential debate. The hour of greatness was soon to arrive. “I’ll do my best.”
“As always.”
The energy dissipated, leaving the mystic alone again with the objective. Something was different, though. The target’s energy waned. The mystic made a calculated leap, but the source vanished, as if gone. Extending the trance revealed powerful protections guarding the source, the like of which the mystic had not encountered, not in any one of many centuries. Time may be the grand illusion, but magical protections were a close second. There was always a back door. And the mystic was skilled. Skilled and patient.
* * *
“You killed Gia Malinov, Jack.” Havers spoke the words in a mild tone, making them all the more damning. “And judging by the smell all over, you dicked around with that
wannabe squire too. Let me load a gun and you can go ahead and blow your brains out. Because the end result of what you’ve done is going to be the same. The gun will be quicker and a hell of a lot less complex.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Jack pulled the stolen laptop from his coat and dropped it onto the marble expanse of lab table, where it landed with a dull thud.
“You didn’t.”
“I had no choice. I needed the extra insurance.”
“If word gets out, Jack, you’ll be a target for all of Malinov’s clients, enemies, and any freelancer looking for a fast buck, as well as Malinov’s army. That isn’t insurance, it’s a death warrant.”
“I know what I’m doing.” Yeah. Right.
He ran a hand through his hair as his thoughts tangled together. He was as fried from the sex, drugs and rock and roll as Raine, only she got to sleep it off. He still had work ahead of him. And a raging hard-on to boot. The one plus with that: he could use the fierce sexual charge to enhance the magical work he had facing him. If he didn’t beat off first. It would be a near thing, gauging the ache in his tight balls.
“No one knows I grabbed the laptop but Leon Malinov. Once he sorts out all the shit in his club, he’ll call me. By that time, he’ll know that Gia was behind giving the liberation team access to the club. He’ll know I killed her and he’ll recognize I did what he’d ultimately have to do with her contending for his position. He’ll want to make a show of things to the community by coming after me, of course, and I’ll let him know if he does, I’ll make all the info on the laptop public. For free.”
“You can’t do crazy halfway, can you?” Havers reached for the laptop. “According to my research, the magical protective codes are pretty intense.”
“I’m hoping you can diffuse them.”
“Did you get what you needed?”
“Being close enough to the stored data should be enough to trigger images and facts, but hard intel helps sharpen the senses.”
“I think I can unwind it long enough to dump the hard drive. Past that, it might be better to let it self-destruct. “When you were mixing it up, did you sense anything related to Spencer’s system access codes?”
He had no fucking clue. He’d certainly picked up impressions that would lead to information if he was lucky in meditation, but right now it was all a blur in the wake of the sexual storm. “I need to sift through things. I’ll know better by mid-morning. How’d you do with the codes the Covenant provided?”
“As you expected. I’ve reviewed the Tribunal records, as well as ancillary council notes. Nothing we don’t already know. What do you want me to do from here?”
“Go oblique. Start with all events logged into the retrieval databanks for the day prior to the theft. Catalog every name of anyone remotely involved with anything that piques your interest. Once I’m stronger, I’ll give it the once over, see what images and impressions it stirs up.” Retrieving artifacts was no different than retrieving information, and retrieving information was the first step in finding the true perp who framed him for murder, theft, and high treason against the earthly realm. “There is no such thing as the perfect crime. Everyone leaves a trail.”
“You should try your charm on Spencer. She’s way overqualified for her position. Her skills at occult analysis are genius. She’s better suited for this task than me.”
“I’m not surprised she’s top of her game. I bet she’s been tapping her esoteric energy for years without realizing it.” Jack slipped out of his coat. Raine’s scent lingered on him. His hands. His clothes. Half of him wanted to race back to her bedroom and pick up where they left off. “She should be in retrieval. Not the Order.”
“Don’t let her get under your skin, Jack. This is your one chance.”
“She’s not my enemy. She’s just a tool.” And a sex goddess when she wanted to be. Had any other women tasted so sweet? His dick twitched dangerously.
“She’s the niece of your enemy, that’s close enough.”
True. His hands shook as he reached for his mortar and pestle, belying the fatigue that had been plaguing him, first from the overuse of his own magic, then from giving in to the sexual rush of Raine and the magical high. “There’s something else.”
“There always is.” Havers was still calm, and steady as a rock. She’d never been anything but, in all the years they’d worked together. “Scale of one to ten, how bad is this ‘something else’?”
“Eleven. Twelve, maybe.” Jack proceeded to tell her the limited amount of what he recalled surrounding Loki and the dubious encounter in the men’s room. Havers listened, drew several vials of blood for testing against a variety of magical panels. Hopefully one would reveal what the God had done, if anything, to Jack.
She left him alone, then, with the beads he’d swapped out from Raine, his memories and impression of the wild ride in the conductor’s booth, and a hard-on that wouldn’t back down. One by one he ground the beads to dust, each time adding the precious drops of the solvent that helped dissolve and transmute the structure of the hematite while trapping the magic energy in suspension.
He’d left her in the guest bedroom. Untouched. Jack knew he could have taken her then and there. Hell, he could have done it on the train, too. But he hadn’t done either. He’d walked away. He couldn’t really grasp why. It was sex, nothing more. Chemistry. What the hell was wrong with him tonight, he couldn’t figure. But he’d walked away from Raine Spencer. Not forever. Only for tonight.
When the mixture turned a dull blue, he grabbed a bottle of diet Pepsi from the mini-fridge and added enough to make the potion palatable. He poured it into a whiskey glass, tossed in some ice, then collapsed into his favorite leather chair and sipped it down while the sun struggled to rise in the eastern sky.
The first part of the absorption spell came on him fast. The deep trance hit him like a sucker punch and put him down. The glass fell from his hand, and landed with a muted bump on the priceless oriental carpet. The deep part of Jack’s mind raced past REM into a heightened state of awareness, hunting through the forest of sensory input and images, while the rest of his body repaired and recharged on the magic excess collected in the beads. But behind it all was a lurking shadow, just out of sight, yet strangely familiar.
Chapter Eight
The only thing worse than waking up from a night of wild abandon with a big black spot where memory of the events should be, was waking up from a night of wild abandon and remembering every single one of those events with perfect clarity. Bells rang around her as she held her head in her hands. She was naked beneath silk sheets except for the new strand of hematite beads. Jack’s scent was all over her body. The memory of the passion that had incinerated her restraint was front and center in her head. She’d dreamed about him all night, and it was way worse than what she’d done with him on that train. The train she could excuse. The magical equivalent of taking a roofie. But she’d been sober when she finally hit the sheets.
Sober and grounded but still she’d conjured him up in her head again, masturbating to the memory of him, until she fell asleep, sweaty and needy and wanting more than anything to find him in the cavernous apartments and take him up on that offer to make love.
The bells wouldn’t stop. Gods mercy, who the hell had she become? Twenty-four hours and she was someone she no longer knew. Or cared to know. Sunlight bled through a crack in the heavy crimson drapes, cutting a swath across the room and her bed. She glanced at the offensive glare, then realized the bells were nothing more than the ringtone of her cell phone. She grabbed it from the nightstand and looked at the number.
Uncle Hugh. Shit. She looked around, worried, imaging for a second he might burst through the door and know in an instant what she’d done. He’d warned her, hadn’t he? About reputation, and what happened when you mixed it up with the wrong crowd. Raine cursed again as the phone continued to ring. She wasn’t a kid anymore. She was a woman, with her own life, and her own plan. Hugh didn’t run her li
fe. No one ran her life but her. And if that life included freaky sex with a lunatic sorcerer in a public venue, that was no one’s sordid business but her own.
She took a deep breath and answered the phone. “Good morning, Uncle.”
“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”
There was a loaded question. “I’ve been busy. Finding the artifacts, remember?” The moment the words were out, she balked. Where had that come from?
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Raine.”
“I’m being truthful.” She climbed out of bed and stalked over to the curtains, shutting them tight against the sun. “I spent all night tracking down information from the fence that sold the canopic jars.”
“That’s good. Progress. Who was it?”
Raine bit back a sharp retort. “We’re on need to know, Uncle Hugh. I’m sorry, I can’t release that information.” Sorry? Not. He knew protocol, he shouldn’t be asking her this. “How are you doing?” she said lamely, trying to change the topic.
“You sound different.” The statement was flat, final. Totally Hugh. Totally on the mark, too. “What’s wrong?”
She glanced at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a wild mess, her cheeks were pinker than normal. Other than that, she was normal. Externally, she was the same old Raine Spencer. But internally? She’d changed, all right. She’d crossed a line last night, and she couldn’t just cross back and pretend she’d never ventured into that forbidden territory. “I saw some action. I’ve been stuck behind a desk so long I forgot how crazy things could get in the field. I’m tired is all.”
ImmortalIllusions: The Eternity Covenant Book2 Page 13