She sighed. It didn’t seem fair. No other man in her admittedly limited sexual history had ever made her feel like Owen had. When he’d touched her, it was as though her body had woken up, just for him. James certainly hadn’t made her feel that way, and neither had anyone else. Just Owen. Just your big brother, whispered a little voice in her head.
But Owen needed what I gave him last night. We both did. It was the only way to bring us together. She paused. We’re not together—not really—though. Not the way the vision wants us to be.
A sudden image flashed in Leah’s mind. The tortured look on Owen’s face when he’d said, “And this river is so wide and so deep and so damn dangerous that I don’t think I can get us out of it this time. To be honest, I don’t know if I even want to.”
Maybe she hadn’t given him everything he needed. Maybe he was still hurting, still aching inside. Filled with a hunger that only she could assuage, even though the guilt was eating him up.
But I can’t. There’s a line we shouldn’t cross, no matter how right it feels. Because things might go further this time. Too far… She sighed. I have to stop thinking about this. I’m driving myself crazy.
Everything was ready, and Owen wasn’t home, so she covered the chicken to keep it warm and went to sit on the couch. The little blue book of angel legends was still where she’d left it, and she picked it up idly, intending to read over it again—anything to get her mind off the problem at hand. Actually, she’d told a small fib to Professor Dobrev. She had finished reading all the legends. She’d wanted a chance to read a few of them again.
She didn’t mean to do it, but somehow the book fell open to “Illandra’s Debasement,” and Leah found herself reading it for a second time. It seemed even hotter and more forbidden than it had the first time—maybe because of what had happened between her and Owen the night before. When she came to the end, she found a small footnote she’d missed and read it eagerly.
Scholars agree that the real tragedy of Illandra was the fact that her mother was mistaken and that, in fact, Aaron was not her half brother at all. However, she is still condemned for the crime of incest because she acted on her desires despite thinking that she and Aaron were related.
But the chief complaint against Illandra was not her love of her supposed half brother; it was that she allowed him to “fill her with his seed.” Thus, it was the act of ejaculation that sealed her fate and that of her incestuous lover, for at the time the legend was written, ejaculation equated with reproduction. Had Illandra refused to allow this final act of consummation, she and her lover might have been spared the resulting “debasement.”
“Huh.” Leah closed the book, frowning. The footnote had given her an idea. It was certainly not an idea she would have acted on, or even had before last night. But now… She closed her eyes, thinking hard…
And suddenly found herself back in the arms of her angel lover in the huge marble palace.
“Oh, beloved.” He held her tight, as though he never wanted to let her go, and Leah felt warm and protected in his arms. Once again she was aware of the fact that he was inside her, that they were making love, but it didn’t bother her as much as it had in the previous dream.
“Why am I here?” she asked, looking up into his face, which was Owen’s and yet not. “Are you trying to tell me I’m on the right track?”
“You’re here because I miss you.” He leaned down to brush his lips to hers. “Because I long to hold you in my arms again, to love you again as we’re doing now. I need you so much, beloved.”
“You’re talking about Owen,” she said. “You’re saying he needs me. That he needs to do…what we’re doing now.”
“Yes.” The word was little more than a whisper in her ear, because the lovely vision was already fading. “But he will never take what he needs for himself. You must give it to him—give yourself to him fully, Ariel…”
“Ariel? Who’s Ariel?” she demanded. But the dream was already gone.
Leah blinked and opened her eyes. The living room of Owen’s loft looked stiff and flat after the glory of the golden vision. And the vision—whether it really was a vision or just a message from her subconscious—had come to her with a significance she felt she could no longer deny. She and Owen needed to be together in a much more physical sense than they had been yet. Even if it hurt him at first, it would help him in the end—would help both of them. Of that, Leah was now absolutely certain.
There still have to be limits, though. We have to draw the line somewhere.
But now, Leah thought, she knew exactly where it had to be drawn. Leaving the book on the couch, she went to change.
* * *
Owen sucked in his breath when she met him at the door. “Leah?” he asked uncertainly.
“Hi.” She smiled at him warmly. “I’m glad you’re home. I couldn’t keep the chicken warm much longer without it drying out.”
“Uh, sorry. Things ran late.” He wanted to say more, but his brain didn’t seem to be functioning very well at the moment. In fact, he felt as though it had been completely short-circuited by her appearance.
Leah’s long golden hair was down around her shoulders, and she was wearing a black baby-doll nightgown. It tied in a little bow between her breasts and then opened to reveal a long stretch of lightly tanned abdomen and the rounded cup of her navel. It ended at her full hips. As if the nightgown weren’t skimpy enough, the material was completely sheer; Owen could clearly see her full breasts and the tight pink nipples he’d sucked the night before through it.
When he finally managed to tear his gaze away from her breasts, he saw that she had on matching black panties. But again, they were completely sheer. He could see her plump pussy lips and even a hint of her inner folds below the well-groomed thatch of golden curls that decorated her softly curving mound. Her long legs were bare, and her toenails were painted an innocent pink—the only innocent thing about her, apparently.
Owen felt himself go painfully hard as he looked at her. Leah looked incredibly seductive, and she was clearly dressed for sex. But she just kept talking casually about the dinner she’d made and asking him what kind of wine he wanted with it. He tried to answer normally, but his mouth and brain didn’t want to cooperate. He allowed Leah to lead him to the table, sit him down, and even serve him a plate, but he found he had no appetite at all—not for food, anyway.
“That’s, uh, some outfit you have on,” he said at last, deciding he needed to meet the situation head-on.
She blushed and smiled. “You’re out of T-shirts. I need to do the wash. And this was the only nightgown I packed.”
Owen frowned at her, saying nothing.
She looked down at her plate, aimlessly pushing a bit of food around with her fork. “Do…do you like it?”
“Like it? God, Leah, how can you ask me that?”
“Because I have to know.” She looked up at him earnestly. “I was thinking, Owen. About…about last night and this morning too. And I felt like… I thought maybe we hadn’t finished working through our issues.”
He scowled. “What would make you say that?”
“The way you looked at me,” she said softly. “The way you’re looking at me right now.”
“I’m not—” But there was no use denying it, especially when his gaze wouldn’t leave her breasts. “Damn it, Leah. If you dress like that, there’s no way I can help looking at you.”
“That’s good,” she murmured. “Because I don’t want you to help it.”
“You should,” he said fiercely. “Leah, we can’t do this again.”
“Why not?” she asked challengingly. Then she got up and walked around the table to stand next to him. “You need me, Owen,” she said softly. “And I…I need you too.”
“Just because I need you—want you—doesn’t mean you have to give yourself to me. Especially not like this. For God’s sake, Leah, you’re my little sister.”
“Your little sister who loves you.” She rested her hand
on his shoulder lightly. “Please, Owen, come to the bedroom with me. Let me give you what you need. And you can give me what I need. We can heal each other.”
Owen shook his head, his mind reeling. “We already went too far last night. If we go even farther now…”
“It’s all right,” she assured him. “I know where the line is, Owen. We won’t cross it.”
“And what line is that?” he demanded harshly. “Tell me, Leah, when does loving you—touching you—turn into something so wrong we can’t be forgiven for it? Is it when I suck your nipples? When I go down on you and taste your pussy? Or is it when I shove my cock inside you and fuck you? When?”
He used the harsh language deliberately, trying to save her—trying to save them both—by scaring her off. But Leah was obviously determined. She blushed bright red but held his gaze.
“It would be better if you didn’t…didn’t put your cock inside me,” she half whispered. “Better from a moral standpoint, anyway, but I know that might be something we both want to do. Need to do.”
“You think so?” Owen asked savagely, thinking of all the illicit fantasies he’d had about her. Of the many, many times he’d imagined spreading her smooth, creamy thighs and thrusting his cock to the hilt in her unresisting pussy.
“But we should try not to,” Leah said. “I mean, I think we should take things slowly. Work on other issues first.”
“Right now I need to kiss you,” Owen growled. She was determined to drag them both to hell, and damn it, he couldn’t resist any longer. He stood and pulled her to him, making sure their bodies were touching, letting her feel the hard, hot ridge of his cock rubbing against her bare thigh through his scrubs.
Leah didn’t pull away or try to fight, even when he ground his cock against her. Her mouth was soft and sweet and pliant under his—she gave in to the kiss with no resistance at all. In fact, she wound her arms around his neck and tugged on his hair, exactly the way she had the night before when she’d been urging him to suck her nipples. That memory, along with the thought that soon he’d be sucking and kissing her there again, excited him more than he could have imagined. Suddenly he couldn’t wait anymore.
Stooping slightly, he lifted Leah up and carried her to the bedroom.
Chapter Ten
Leah clung tightly to Owen’s shoulders as he carried her to the bed. God, she hoped she was doing the right thing, following her feelings and the dictates of her vision. But she couldn’t stop now. She had to keep pressing onward. Besides, she admitted to herself, she wanted this. Needed it as much as Owen did.
If she had any lingering doubts, they were dispelled by the look of pure love and lust she could see in his eyes. He was obviously angry at her—and angry at himself—but he was still careful with her. He laid her on the bed gently, as if she were fine china that might break. And then he stripped slowly, as though he was trying to calm himself down, before climbing in bed with her. Leah could tell by the way he was looking at her that he was thinking about something. And when he finally spoke, she understood what.
“Leah,” he said in a low voice. “Leah, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” She pushed him back against the headboard and straddled him as she had the night before. “Let’s start where we left off,” she said. “Maybe you won’t feel so bad if you’re just repeating something you’ve already done.”
“Leah—”
“No, listen,” she said firmly. “Last night you touched me in a lot of ways, Owen. You…you sucked my nipples.” Slowly she untied the little bow that held her nightie together and let it fall open, baring her breasts to him. “Do you…do you need to do that again?” she asked, wishing she didn’t sound quite so breathy. But she couldn’t help herself; she could feel herself getting excited all over again—wanting him as the now-familiar feeling of rightness swept over her.
“God…” His voice was hoarse, and the look he gave her was pure hunger. “You know I do.” And then he pulled her close and sucked one tight nipple into his mouth, making her moan.
Just like the night before, it seemed Owen couldn’t get enough of her breasts. And as she had done earlier, Leah offered herself to him freely. The difference was that everything they had done last night had been done in darkness. This time the bedside lights were on, and she could see everything. The look of need on his face, the long, slow way he sucked each nipple in turn until her stiff peaks were dark pink and aching from his loving attention. Watching him as well as feeling his mouth on her was making her incredibly aroused. It was as though she could feel everything he was doing to her breasts—every sharp spark of pleasure as he sucked her nipples—directly in her pussy.
At last, though, Owen drew back, panting. “Leah—”
“Don’t stop,” she murmured. “Not now.” She kissed him softly. “You touched more than my breasts last night, Owen. Do you remember?”
His hand slid down her abdomen. Slipping his fingers into her thin black panties, he growled, “How could I forget?”
Lean moaned again as his thick fingers invaded her, spreading her folds and sliding deeply into her pussy.
“But what if I need to do more than this?” he continued, fucking her with his fingers. “What if I need to do more than just finger-fuck you, Leah?”
“Anything you need,” she whispered. “Just tell me, Owen.”
“How about if I show you instead?” Swiftly he withdrew his fingers and stripped away her panties. Then he flipped her over on the bed so that he was on top of her for once. “What if I need to do this?” And suddenly the broad head of his cock was rubbing against her, sliding over her slippery folds to press directly against her sensitive clit.
Leah moaned and jumped at the sudden contact. God, had it really come to that so soon? But if it was what he needed—what they both needed… “All right,” she whispered. “Yes, Owen. Do it.”
“No.” Owen pulled away from her, a look of grim determination in his eyes. “No, I won’t. I can’t. But I will do this.” He knelt before her and lifted her hips. Then he pressed a hot, desperate kiss to her open pussy.
Leah gasped, taken completely by surprise. She could scarcely believe it. This was one of the things he’d imagined? It seemed so strange. She’d certainly never been with another man who wanted to do this so badly. But the look in Owen’s deep blue eyes and the way he was spreading her pussy lips open told her he was serious.
“Yes,” she cried, weaving her fingers through his thick dark blond hair. “Oh, Owen. God, that feels so good.”
“Love to make you feel good.” Starting at the bottom of her slit, he took a long, loving lick, making her jump and moan. “Love to taste you, Leah. Taste your sweet, wet pussy.”
“God, Owen!” She spread her legs even wider, opening herself for him, for his tongue, giving herself completely.
Owen groaned at her display of submission and kissed her gently again. “You’re so beautiful, Leah. So fucking gorgeous when you open yourself for me.”
“I’ll always be open for you, Owen,” she assured him softly. “Open to this or anything else that will bring us closer together.”
“Leah,” he murmured, and then he pressed his mouth against her pussy again. For a long time he lapped her slowly, lovingly, as though he wanted to take his time and cherish every moment of this encounter.
She moaned and bucked against his mouth as his lapping turned to sucking. He took her clit between his lips and teased her unmercifully, lashing her with his tongue until she cried out and pulled at his hair, urging him on.
At last he looked up at her again, panting, his mouth wet and shiny with her juices. “Leah,” he whispered hoarsely. “Can’t help myself. Have to—need to put my tongue inside you. Inside your sweet little cunt.”
Leah shivered at the dirty words, but she could deny him nothing. “Do it,” she said, stroking his hair. “Do it, Owen. Put your tongue in my pussy.”
“God,” he muttered, and then he was lifting her hips, tilting her pelvis as
though it were a bowl of water and he was dying of thirst.
Leah cried out as she felt his tongue invade her pussy. How could anything society said was so wrong feel so right? She had no answers, but as Owen tongue-fucked her, she felt something else. The pleasure that had been building inside her as he touched and sucked and fingered her was coming to a peak, and she couldn’t hold it back anymore. Gasping and crying Owen’s name, bucking up to ride his face shamelessly as he tasted her, Leah came harder than she ever had in her life.
The moment she finished, he pulled back from her and went to sit against the headboard, breathing hard.
“Owen?” Leah looked at him, startled at his sudden withdrawal. “Owen, what’s wrong? What are you doing all the way over there?”
“Resisting.” His jaw was clenched, and his voice was raw. “Trying to keep myself from…doing what I shouldn’t.”
“What you need to do, you mean. What we both need to do.” Leah sat up and went to him. “Owen,” she said softly. “This isn’t over yet.”
“Yes, it is.” He opened his eyes. “You came, Leah. I wanted to make you come, to taste your pussy while you were coming just for me. And you gave me that. It’s enough.”
“No, it’s not,” she insisted. “Just look at you, you’re still…still hard.” She gestured to his cock, which was long and thick with a broad, plum-shaped head. He was much bigger, actually, than any other man she’d ever been with, and the idea of taking him inside her was frightening—and yet somehow intriguing too. I want him. I want him inside me. The thought should have brought her shame, but instead she felt a little shiver of desire in the pit of her belly.
“Leah, no,” he said harshly. “You don’t really want this. It’s crossing the line.”
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