by M. L. Ryan
“So, now that we have the house to ourselves, what’s your pleasure?” Alex’s silky, deep voice rolled over me like a soft caress. I was probably imagining it, but I could swear I sensed the desire wafting off him in warm waves that curiously smelled a lot like Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream.
I looked up at him, mesmerized as usual by his handsome features. Much as I hated to admit it, being a modern, liberated woman and all, I could stare at him all day. His hair had grown a bit since I first met him; the golden blonde tresses now brushed his broad shoulders. Impossible as it seemed, the longer locks made him even sexier. Rogue-ish. Maybe I can convince him to dress up like a pirate sometime.
My fantasies of swashbuckling scalawags were interrupted when Alex suddenly crushed his lips on mine. I grabbed his shoulders and wrapped my legs around his waist, and without breaking the steadily intensifying kiss, he began shuffling backwards. When we reached the kitchen, he turned around and sat me on the new table that replaced the one I annihilated weeks before. As he slowly trailed kisses down my neck, he moved his hands under my tank-top and began to gently stroke my breasts.
“I’ve wanted to christen this table ever since it arrived,” he said huskily as he pulled my top over my head. In another second, he unsnapped my bra and leaned me onto the smooth wooden surface. Once I was on my back, he began to tease one nipple with his tongue while giving similar attention to the other with his thumb and forefinger. My legs, still conveniently clamped around his waist, provided exquisite purchase as I rhythmically gyrated into him. Grinding into me with equal abandon, the feel of him — hard and straining against his jeans — nearly made me climax right then and there.
“Pants. Off. Now.” I somehow managed to articulate between gasps of pleasure. He didn’t have to be persuaded, and before I could lift my hips up to remove the rest of my clothes, he had lost all of his. While I was taking in every bit of his glorious nakedness, he quickly eliminated my jeans and lacey thong and flung them unceremoniously across the room.
He loomed above me for a moment before grabbing my legs and yanking me toward him. I expected him to enter me then, and when he did not, I growled my displeasure.
“Patience,” he drawled out hoarsely. “I want to sample every inch of you first.”
Sounds good to me, I thought. I probably would have said it out loud, except when his mouth landed between my legs, I was completely incapable of coherent speech. His tongue moved slowly into my folds and deftly twisted in and out until I was hovering on the edge of ecstasy. With one last magnificent and agonizing flick of his tongue, I screamed out his name as the rush of passion consumed me.
I was still yelling like a banshee when Alex replaced his lips with his fingers and leisurely kissed his way back up to my breasts. Just as the ripples of pleasure began to subside, he grabbed my hips and eased inside me. He moved so deliberately that I moaned in frustration and arched my back to try and force more friction between us.
“Patience,” he repeated. His eyes were closed, but a sly, sensuous grin enveloped his face.
“Stop saying that,” I growled as I thrust my pelvis into him once again.
Alex leaned forward and whispered, “Greedy, aren’t you? You’ve already had your fun, I don’t want mine to be over too quickly.” He teased the outside of my ear with his tongue, which made me shudder. This was so not fair; he knew there was some sort of direct connection between my earlobes and my clitoris. He did have a valid point, however; I had come once, so I had no excuse for being so unwilling to wait.
I forced myself to relax and let Alex set the pace. He continued to slide unhurriedly in and out, the rapturous expression still in place. Gliding my hands across his chiseled chest, I reveled in the sharp contours of his hard, lean muscles. Damn this felt good. I savored being stretched to accommodate him as I let myself experience every delectable sensation.
Eventually, his movements became more urgent. He wasn’t smiling anymore; his lips parted and his breathing became ragged. I clamped my legs around him once more and each time he pounded into me, I gave as good as I got. Without warning — and without breaking his ever increasing rhythm — he gathered me upright, his hands cupped under my butt for support. If ever I was thankful for his preternatural strength, it was at that moment. With my legs still at his waist and my hands wrapped tightly about his neck, he propelled me back and forth against him until he cried out in release. The words were Courso, and even though I didn’t understand them, the wild abandon drove me again to completion.
We stood there, panting and clutching each other, until Alex put me back on my feet and kissed me gently; first my eyes, then my cheeks and finally my lips.
“I’ve really missed being able to do that without worrying about making too much of a racket,” I mumbled breathlessly when I was again able to speak.
Laughing, Alex replied, “I know what you mean. Realistically though, Sebastian probably could hear everything even when we were trying to be quiet.”
Damn it. I should have realized that the Coursodon’s heightened senses would allow for even whispers to be heard a room away. “I wish you told me this weeks ago,” I said, somewhat perturbed. “I thought we were being discrete. It’s so inhibiting not making noise; I could have been as raucous as I wanted the whole time?”
Alex gathered me in his arms and carried me toward the bedroom. “Would you really have been able to engage in boisterous, unrestrained lovemaking while we had a houseguest?” he murmured with a mischievous smirk as he dropped me on the mattress.
I scooted up to the headboard and settled my head against the pillows. He had a point. I’m sure some people get off on having others eavesdrop while they do it. But I have enough trouble with people hearing me use the toilet, much less listening to me while I am gripped in the throes of unbridled passion.
“You’re right, I’m already cringing now that I know he overheard us having subdued sex. I’d be mortified if he caught the triple-X-rated version.”
Alex stretched his long body next to me and propped himself up on one elbow. “Knowing Sebastian the way I do, as far as he’s concerned, the louder, the better.”
I huffed out a sigh of resignation. “Figures he would be into aural sex.”
~7~
By late afternoon, I resolved not to spend the entire day in bed. Not that I was bored with the many hours of unbelievably fantastic sex or the accompanying post-coital snuggling/conversing/snuggling again routine. I could easily have remained ensconced under the covers until the next day if not for the less-than-sexy grumbling in my stomach. Besides, I was craving a deep-dish, Chicago-style pizza loaded with Italian sausage and mushrooms so not only did I have to leave the bed, but also at least one of us had to throw on some clothes to greet the delivery guy when he dropped off the pie.
Once we had stuffed ourselves, we went outside and watched the sun set over the Tucson Mountains to the west. It was May, and the heat of summer was already advancing upon the desert. It was probably still in the mid-nineties, but the lack of humidity made it seem much cooler once the sun went down. The arid conditions for most of the year were great for making scorching temperatures bearable, but played havoc on your skin. I once read that sales of hairspray were greatest in the south, but extra-moisturizing body lotion must be a huge seller around here. I was constantly slathering myself with something to keep my flesh from looking flaky. Of course, once July rolled around and the monsoons hit, Tucson was like a blast furnace combined with a sauna. Sure the afternoon rainstorms cooled things off, but up until the clouds let loose, it was pretty beastly. As a bonus, the numerous wimps that couldn’t tolerate the summer swelter cleared out which made for much better traffic flow around town.
We had barely made it back inside when I noticed Vinnie was near the side window, back arched and tail puffed out with alarm. I glanced around, looking for whatever was frightening him when suddenly there was a loud thump and the window shattered, sending bits of glass flying across the floor
. Vinnie yowled and scampered out of the room, his paws slipping on the Saltillo tile as he took off.
Before I could articulate the “What the fuck was that?” that I intended to yell, all the lights inside went off and Alex tackled me. I landed sprawled on the floor on my back, Alex covering me with his body. Normally, I have no problem having him on top of me, but in this situation, I just felt squished. His face was mere inches from mine, and even in the dark I could tell he had morphed into Xyzok-mode. He placed a finger to his lips to make certain I would stay quiet and rolled off me into a crouch.
“Stay here, and stay down,” he whispered with such intensity, there was no way I was moving even if I had been so inclined. Which I wasn’t. Slipping silently across the room, he grabbed his gun from a drawer in the small desk across from the sofa, popped the clip in place, and returned to where I was laying. “Sit up, but keep your back to the wall.” I complied, and when I was upright, he handed me the gun. Still keeping his voice low, he said brusquely, “You know how to use this, right?”
I nodded with as much moxie as I could muster, which probably wasn’t much, considering it felt like my heart was about to pound out of my chest. Alex, being a well-trained Xyzok, was used to random shit like this happening. He seemed alert and ready to spring into action. I, on the other hand, was completely thrown off by this unexpected assault on my own turf.
“I’m going to check outside,” he continued. “If anyone comes in here while I’m gone, shoot. Aim for the chest. It’s the biggest target.” He started to slink away, but turned back and added, “But make sure it’s not me.” He winked, and then moved stealthily to the still partially open sliding door to the patio.
He moved like a predator stalking its prey; completely focused on the task at hand. Vigilant, nimble, deadly. Beautiful and enthralling. If I wasn’t so rattled, I probably would have been turned on.
“Be careful,” I whispered as Alex slipped outside, soundlessly closing the door behind him. I clutched the gun with both hands, elbows close to my body, muzzle pointing upward. I had no idea if that was exactly how I should be holding it, but I’d seen TV cops doing that when they were getting ready to storm into someplace. Besides, I figured in that position, I was less likely to shoot myself. Alex had taught me proper positioning at the practice range, but he never instructed me on what to do if I had to fire while sitting on the floor in my own house.
After what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few minutes, the glass door slid back open and I heard Alex say, “It’s me,” before entering the room.
“Afraid I might not be able to tell who it was in the dark?” I muttered.
He kneeled next to me a carefully pried the gun out of my vise-like grip. “Not really, but you can never be too careful when deadly weapons are involved.”
“Did you find anything out there?”
The lights came back on. Not sure exactly how, given that Alex hadn’t moved. I must learn that trick, I thought. Although, realistically, with my less-than-stellar magical aptitude, it would be a long, long time before I could pull off something like that.
“I saw no one, but whoever it was, it wasn’t a human. I sensed a magical signature.” Alex began to scan the kitchen floor and he shifted some of the broken glass around with his shoe. “Interesting. I would have guessed the window was shattered with arcane energy, but there’s what did the damage.”
He pointed to an oval, gray-colored object lying amongst the shards of glass. At first I thought it was a flat river rock, but upon closer inspection, I realized that it was much too uniform in shape to be naturally-formed. Alex bent down and placed his hand over it without making contact. After a minute or so, he picked it up and studied it more closely.
I moved over so I, too, could get a better look at what had been hurled through my window. It was about the size of Alex’s palm. One side was plain and somewhat rounded, the other was flatter with intricate designs carved into it. I recognized the one in the middle; it was the same winged-seal — a Qajinyb I think they called it — that was on my reward. Surrounding the Qajinyb was a lot of scrollwork.
Alex furrowed his brow and he ran his free hand through his hair. I couldn’t tell if he was perplexed, annoyed or a combination of both. Either way, he didn’t look happy. He stood and placed the thing on the kitchen counter before turning back toward me.
I went and stood next to him, picking up the object and tossing it casually in my hand. It wasn’t quite as heavy as I expected, based on its size, but still hefty enough to demolish the glass. And it wasn’t cool like normal rock, it was warm and I could feel the slight electrical buzz of magic.
“You know, here when people are pissed at someone and want to send a message, they usually throw a brick or a random rock. The Courso must be much more formal with their intimidation practices. This seems pretty fancy to chuck through a window.”
He shook his head. “Oh, it’s not meant to intimidate. But you are correct about the sending a message part.”
It was unlike him to be so evasive, and I was beginning to get annoyed that he wasn’t being altogether forthright. “Okay,” I began hesitantly, trying to curb my exasperation. “So what the hell is this and what’s it mean?”
Alex looked directly at me and sighed. “It means my mother wants to see me.”
I met his intense gaze and then scrutinized the offending item. “Your mother threw a, a whatever this is through my window?” I said with skepticism.
“A ythkoj. It’s a somewhat archaic means to summon. And, of course she didn’t throw it. She never leaves Courso. I’m certain someone else was tasked with this.”
“Couldn’t her courier just knock on the door and hand it to you?” Or does the traditional means of delivery require emulating rioters?
“My mother likes to be…dramatic,” he admitted with a shrug. When he realized I didn’t completely buy his explanation — my dubious expression would have been unmistakable to even the most obtuse observer — he added, “And I don’t always respond when she tries to contact me using more accepted means.”
“Wait a minute. You told me once that the Courso avoid negative associations, even within their own families. So, in reality your relationship with your mother is just as fucked up as mine?”
I started to laugh. And not just an entertained chortle; peals of laughter burst forth until my stomach began to hurt. Some of it was probably letting out some of the tension from thinking we might be under attack, but it seemed unbelievably hysterical that after previously lecturing me on how I should find better ways to deal with my mother, he had mommy issues as well.
When I managed to contain the guffaws, I glanced up at Alex. His arms were crossed and his expression clearly telegraphed that he was decidedly not amused.
“You done?” he said finally.
I wiped a tear from my eye and nodded. “Sorry, but you have to admit the whole situation is kind of funny, in a bizarre sort of way. If I didn’t talk to my mother for a while, she wouldn’t hire someone to throw something through my window to get my attention.”
“No, but she might have the police come and do a welfare check. Besides, it wasn’t just to make me take notice, although I will admit it did a good job of that. A ythkoj is an invitation of sorts. It is magically inscribed; that’s how I know she wants to talk to me.”
“Are you going to take the not-so-subtle hint and give her a call?”
“I wish it were that simple. You know that there’s no wireless connection between dimensions. And I can’t email either, and it would be considered rude to send another with a message. The only way is to go across and speak to her in person.”
Like throwing a rock through a window wasn’t? “Can’t you just go to Courso and then call her?”
“Most of the Coursodon eschew technology in favor of their magical abilities. There are some cell phones, but they have very limited coverage areas and not the greatest service.”
“Kind of like Sprint here,” I remarked
.
“Worse than that, believe me. And my family is particularly set in tradition, so they don’t have any phone service.”
“People just communicate magically?”
“Yes. The magic works sort of like wireless, I guess. If you want to contact someone, you just send them a message by imbuing an object with whatever you want to convey, and then you transfix it to the other place.”
“I take it that this is something that everyone can master?”
“It is considered a basic skill; like learning to read or write.”
“Sounds handy. At least you never have to worry about disgruntled postal workers blowing away their coworkers. So, are you going to see her?”
“Perhaps at some point. But I most certainly am not going to reward her impolite behavior by kowtowing at her every beck and call.”
Alex went to the closet and grabbed the broom and dustpan and began to clean up the mess. I scrutinized his face to try and gauge his emotional state, but he seemed not overly bothered.
Maybe being 90-ish years older than I had afforded Alex a certain maturity; albeit one that I was unlikely to attain even if I reached 125 years-old. I would have gone through the five stages of dealing with maternal eccentricities: shock at the shear gall, anger over the reluctance to treat me like an adult, guilt over not confronting the bad behavior, denial that it ever happened followed by acceptance that nothing will ever change. But he seemed to be quite calm about the whole incident, unless his way of displaying shock was to be really quiet and tidy.