by Tasha Black
26
Georgia
“Give me that book, Carlton,” Georgia shouted over the sounds of the fire.
Carlton Briggs shook his head and clutched the binder tighter to his chest.
Georgia took a step toward him, choking up on the umbrella. She had no real plan, no reason to believe she could get the binder from him or get out alive once she did. But at that moment, her desire to uncover the truth was greater than her instinct for self-preservation.
Rocky’s words echoed in her head:
A person who gains happiness from assisting others - this happiness is sure to be fulfilled. And that is why your own life will be filled with happiness, Georgia.
Her heart lifted at the thought of him. She was doing the right thing. She just hoped her life lasted long enough for her to enjoy it.
Briggs took a step backward, as if he could sense that Georgia’s determination had some sort of magic to it.
Unfortunately, his step backward connected his jacket with the licking flames. The cheap fabric ignited immediately.
Briggs yelped in pain and fear, inadvertently dropping the binder on the floor at Georgia’s feet as he fled the room.
Georgia relaxed her grip on the umbrella, mostly relieved, but secretly a little disappointed that she wouldn’t have to use it on Carlton Briggs.
His smoldering body made it through the doorway just before the frame collapsed, leaving Georgia alone, clutching the binder to her own chest and realizing she had no way out.
The walls were burning, the drapes were burning, besides which, she was eight stories up, the doorway was blocked, and the ceiling was collapsing.
She looked around, there had to be another way. Maybe she could devise a sort of battering ram and use it to help her get through the burning debris blocking the doorway.
The glass of the desk would heat up and shatter. The built-ins were already ablaze.
She spun around in a frantic circle.
She couldn’t die now. She was in love.
She was in love.
It was poetic justice that she only realized now that it was too late that she loved him - loved him with all her heart, with a heat that would embarrass this fire, and none of the coolness she had clung to all her life, none of the ice that had protected her from the world.
She wouldn’t become like her mother because she had never been like her mother. And Rocky was not like her father. He cared about her feelings, was attuned to her. They were attuned to each other.
Committing to Rocky would not suffocate her happiness, it would expand her joy exponentially. And her own contentment would make her more effective at helping others.
But none of it would ever happen now, because there was no way out.
When the floor to ceiling glass of the window shattered, Georgia assumed it was exploding from the heat.
Cold wind rushed in from outside, feeding the flames with more oxygen. She would be engulfed in seconds.
A dark silhouette appeared before her, arms outstretched like an angel.
O Death, made proud with pure and princely beauty.
The poetry of Shakespeare filled her head as she took in her last moments: the beauty of the flowering flames, the acute sensation of harsh smoke in her lungs, the gravitational pull of her body toward the window and the man who hovered there, waiting to take her away, like Peter Pan in Wendy’s window.
He wasn’t real. She knew that. He was a construct of her frightened mind, a comforting illusion to guide her on her way from this life.
So when the shadowy figure grabbed her wrist and pulled her bodily to his chest, practically knocking the air out of her burning lungs, she was more than a little surprised.
“Georgia,” he sighed into her hair.
And then she realized, and the tears prickling her eyes were suddenly not from smoke, but from joy. And then they were flying, flying through the open window and down over the crowd, their upturned faces so surprised.
Rima was there, looking worried until she caught sight of Georgia, and her face broke into a sunny smile.
“She’s okay,” Rocky shouted down to Rima. “I’m taking her home.”
Georgia dropped the binder into her friend’s hands just as Rocky sailed upward again.
Rima looked surprised, but somehow she managed the catch. Georgia was just able to see her expression change as she began to read it before they were rising up again, up and up into the sky.
She buried her face in Rocky’s chest. She didn’t care if he flew her to the moon. Or even back into the burning building, so long as she could tell him over and over.
“I love you,” she whispered, her throat raw.
“Hush, baby,” he murmured into her hair.
“I love you,” she repeated, insistent.
“Don’t you think I know that already?” he asked, sounding irritated.
He cradled her closer as they sailed through the sky.
“I love you, too, you know,” he told her fiercely after a moment. “But I wanted to pick a romantic time to tell you about it.”
“What could be more romantic than this?” Georgia coughed in surprise.
“I thought women liked flowers and poetry,” he said uncertainly.
“I like you,” Georgia smiled into his chest.
He had so much to learn, and she was glad she would be there to witness it.
“And I love you,” he told her. “Now hush, we’re almost home.”
27
Rocky
Rocky landed on the dock behind the observatory, intoxicated with the satisfying weight of Georgia, warm in his arms.
The honeysuckle scent of her dawn-colored hair mingled with the smell of the fire she’d just escaped. He felt as if he were still flying, his body shot through with moonlight.
She nuzzled his neck and he felt it in his groin.
Oh, the beautiful pain of desire.
Rocky gave one last wistful look over the galaxy reflected in the still surface of the pond, before striding though the tall grass of the meadow, back toward the observatory. There was no time to show her the stars - the urgency of his need to claim her was too great.
There would be time enough for stargazing later, when they were one.
When, at last they were back in Georgia’s room, he placed her on her bed.
Rocky loved this space, filled as it was with her things, her personality expressed in every small decoration, every carelessly discarded jacket and ponytail holder. But tonight he was too greedy to slow down and take it in.
Georgia looked up at him, her hair tousled from their flight, eyes sparkling.
Rocky felt his control slipping, but this was too important.
“Georgia Taylor, I chose you. Will you have me?” he asked her. He could hear his own voice, it sounded angry, though he wasn’t angry, only impatient. She had made him wait so very long.
Her lower lip trembled and he wanted to trap it between his teeth, but he waited.
“Yes, Rocky. I am yours,” she replied solemnly.
His heart filled with starlight.
“Beautiful girl,” he praised her, leaping on top of her, caging her head between his upper arms and leaning down to rub his nose against hers.
She giggled and he gave her a light kiss.
The giggling stopped and he felt her warm breasts pressing up against his chest as she arched her back.
He slid his hands under her hips, pulling her against him, loving the little moan she made when she felt him, rigid against her.
She clawed at his clothes and he sat up to remove his shirt.
Georgia followed him up and ripped the shirt apart, buttons popping off to sail merrily around the room.
He had to smile when she froze, gazing raptly at his chest.
It was a good chest. Rocky had admired it himself for its excellent work protecting his heart and lungs.
But Georgia slid her hands across his pectorals as if they were made of velvet.
He was glad she was pleased with the way he looked. He was certainly entranced with her supple curves.
Her hands found his belt and he had to concentrate to remember how to remove the prongs from the buckle.
When he was freed at last, she unfastened his fly and slid her cool hand down his waist as if to stroke his penis.
The thought of it made him throb with need, but it was her pleasure he ached for.
He captured her wrist in his hand.
“No, my love,” he whispered. “Come with me.”
He stood, stepping out of his pants, and led her to the bathroom, the cool air raising goosebumps along his exposed skin. He knelt to start the warm water running into the tub, then added bubbles, forcing himself to take his time and calm himself. He needed everything to be perfect for her.
He turned to find her smiling down at him. He had dreamed of the last time he bathed her. It seemed she had as well.
He stood and swept her hair over one shoulder, then moved behind her to pull the zipper down the hollow of her spine and into the curve of her waist.
She held herself still and proud, waiting.
Rocky slid the dress down, down until it pooled around her toes. Then he applied himself to the tiny hooks holding her bra to her body, slowly popping them open and then pushing the bra to the floor as well before kneeling to slide her panties to her toes.
Once they were both naked, he stood.
“Come, love,” he said, leading her to the steaming tub.
“Come in with me,” she smiled up at him.
“Not yet,” he said through clenched teeth, though the temptation was great.
She lowered herself into the heated water, making a sweet sound of satisfaction when she was settled.
He sat on the edge of the tub, trying to memorize every sigh, every pore of her skin, the exact upward path of her lips toward her cheekbones when she smiled that perfect smile.
She splashed him playfully, then cringed as if she expected retaliation.
He leaned in, cupped water in his hands and watched it fall back into the tub like diamonds. He stretched his fingers and blew a soap bubble between them. It floated lazily toward her, then landed on her shoulder before popping.
Georgia laughed and slid deeper so that her hair was completely underwater, swirling like flames.
Like the flames when he had finally found her.
He had nearly lost her tonight.
He might nearly lose her again. This was what happened when one fell in love with a warrior, he supposed. If he loved her, he could not interfere. Each day he would watch her put on a uniform and risk her own safety to protect others.
His protective side roared with fury, while his heart told him that it would be better to love her as she was than to try to make her what she was not.
And in truth it was her fearlessness and determination to do the right thing that caused him to love her so fiercely. Perhaps not at that first choosing, but now, when he recognized that he did not merely choose her, or even merely love her.
He respected her.
Georgia emerged from the water, standing over him as she had the first time, her eyes sparkling, daring him.
He poured soap into his hands, and began at her clavicle, rubbing slow circles into her soft skin, washing away the traces of the fire.
She stilled as he neared her breasts.
He remembered the last time, watching her nipples crinkle in anticipation only to be left untouched.
He didn’t leave her in suspense this time, but rewarded her, sliding his hands up and over her breasts, catching her nipples gently between his outstretched fingers, then rolling his thumbs over them.
Georgia trembled, her breasts seeming almost to swell in his hands.
But he was too eager to discover the rest of her body. Slowly he ran his hands down her belly, the outside of her thighs.
When he brought his hands up again on the inside of her calves, she held her breath.
Rocky slowly massaged her thighs, allowing his fingers to stretch up, up, until they brushed the wet curls that hid her most private treasure.
Georgia leaned against the tiled wall, her breathing shallow, her thighs tensed.
Rocky wished he knew how to beg the gods of Man to help him. Her need was so great and he so badly wanted to fulfill it.
He let go of her long enough to enter the water with her, kneeling at her feet.
The warmth of the bath enveloped him and he smiled up at her, loving her pained expression, the suds clinging to her belly, the beads of perspiration on her upper lip.
Then he leaned in and tasted heaven.
“Ohhh,” she sighed.
Rocky lost himself to the call of her body as he tasted copper and honeysuckle. This was the reason his heart beat, to take this pleasure from pleasing her.
Her fingers were tangled in his hair and he gloried in her cries as he licked, lapped and sucked at the opening of her sex.
She whimpered, angling her hips and he found his tongue on a tiny ridge. She tugged his hair and let out a slow moan.
He examined the tiny bud thoroughly, manipulating it one way and the other, as she pressed herself closer, anxiously begging for more contact.
He slid a finger against her opening while flicking and sucking at the little peak with his tongue and she stilled. He felt her whole body surge and tighten.
“Rocky,” she cried, clenching at his hair, his shoulders, trembling as if she might faint.
When her shivering ceased at last, he pulled her down into the water with him, holding her against his chest.
He was filled with happiness at having given her this satisfaction. And though his own body raged for relief, he put the thought aside to hold her close and safe, trying not to let himself go wild with the taste of her still on his lips.
“That was… incredible,” she whispered in his ear.
“I’m glad,” he told her, “I always want it to be incredible.”
She slid herself onto his lap, straddling him, and leaned in for a lazy kiss.
Rocky kissed her back, clutching her hips mercilessly to keep himself from lifting her up, impaling her on his pounding cock and feeling her tightening pleasure firsthand.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Again?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “No. No, I need you inside me this time.”
Rocky had to stop and gather himself. They would not do that here, crouched in the water. They would do it properly in a bed. That was how it was done.
The first time, at least.
He lifted her and they stood. He let the water drain from the tub, turned on the shower and rinsed the soap from their bodies.
Then he stepped out and dried himself quickly.
Georgia reached for a towel but he took it from her and dried her himself, enjoying the pink glow of her skin after the warm water.
When he was finished, she reached up to lace her hands around his neck and he swept her into his arms. Smiling at her squeal of delight, he carried her out to the bed.
The far wall of her room was a huge, curved window. Outside the stars winked at him, as if they knew his happiness.
He laid her on the bed, her fiery hair spread out on the pillow beneath her. She studied him with serious eyes.
“Do you want this?” he asked her.
She nodded.
“You know what it means to me. I will be human forever,” he told her. “And I will forever be connected to you. Is that what you want?”
“I’ve wanted it from the first night,” she told him, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I just didn’t know it then.”
He bent to kiss her eyes, her cheeks.
“Are you sad, my love?” he asked her.
“I’m happy,” she said. “And afraid. What if it doesn’t work?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“What if I’m not the right one?” she asked. “What if we don’t click?”
“Oh, y
ou’re the right one,” he chuckled.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Would you like to find out with me?” Rocky breathed.
She smiled up at him then.
It was time.
Rocky kissed her, and then taking himself in his hand, pressed against her.
Even without penetrating, the feeling was so sweet it was almost unbearable. She was so warm and so wet - she felt like satin.
Slowly, so as not to hurt her, he pressed inside, gritting his teeth against the pleasure.
She moaned beneath him and he pressed his forehead to hers, wishing he could swim in her thoughts, feel what she felt.
The need to move overwhelmed him and he pressed deep inside her.
Her nails sank into his shoulders and she rocked her hips up against his.
“Please,” she whispered.
He pulled back and thrust into her, less gently this time, the pleasure dizzying.
“Rocky,” she whimpered and he felt her tightening around him.
Losing control, he thrust again and again, deep, fast strokes. He could feel every cell in his lungs emptying and filling, trying to keep up with the demands of his instinct.
Georgia stiffened beneath him, and he reached down to lightly stroke the small place that accentuated her pleasure.
She cried out and her climax brought his with it.
Rocky roared and clung to the woman who had brought him this gift.
Time stood still and the world crashed in on him from all sides - the cool sheets beneath him, the stars shining through the window, the hot breath squeezing from his lungs, even as his body tasted the most brutally exquisite pleasure and his heart poured out of his body into his mate, his woman.
It was real. It was all so real, so beautiful.
When it was over, he collapsed on her chest, feeling the throb of her heartbeat slow, and the world spinning on its axis.
Rocky had clicked with his female.
He was completely human now.
28
Georgia
Georgia floated in the bliss of having consummated her passion with the man of her dreams.