Bit by bit, his breathing slowed, allowing him to exhale before the next burst of air filled him up.
He opened his eyes. Well, this was an unwelcome development. Maybe Kat not calling was a good thing. Adia had always triggered him but they had a history. He’d never considered the possibility other women might put him in the same state.
This was just fucking great. He laughed. He’d had the body of a man for a whopping six days and he was no better off than when he’d been stuck in the body of a youth.
Except Kat didn’t make him panic. She was comfortable. Easy to be around. Hell, maybe next time he saw her he should try again.
“Let’s go, George.” He wiped the sweat from his brow, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We can’t leave Scott to deal with that woman alone."
The goddess struck down Samael as well. Had she not, he’d have made the Original whole at the first opportunity and she would learn nothing—free will, it seemed, was contagious. The Goddess made Samael mortal and divided his powers in two. It would be interesting to see what happened to him. Would he find his mate? Would the four of them learn their lessons?
The goddess tapped her finger on her lips. How would his powers manifest on Earth?
Chapter 16
“Jules? Did you watch me?”
Shit. He froze in the bathroom doorway. Her colors were all wrong. Red. Violet. White. Damn it, he needed to figure out what they meant. He cleared his throat. “I . . . .” He clenched his jaw. Fisted his hands.
“I want you to be honest with me.” She wasn’t yelling. Then again, that wasn’t her style. She walked toward him and he backed away. All he wanted to do was kiss her, but last time he reached for her, she’d disappeared for several hours. All his muscles flexed with the urge to grab her.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Jules. Not ever.”
Hurt him? As if she could. She had no idea of her peril.
“I want to talk.” She put her hand on his chest.
A breath shuddered out of him. She stood so close he could see her pink-tipped toes and the hem of her purple dress from beneath the bandage. He lifted his chin a notch. Looked like the thing was all one piece. Soft material. No belt or buttons. Easy to remove. Stop it!
“Were you watching me?”
He pressed his lips into a thin line and he turned his face away. Tried to draw in a breath that wasn’t laced with the scent of cinnamon. What she should’ve asked is whether or not he’d been able to think of a damned thing outside of her since he watched her.
“When I was in the bath, thinking of you—”
All his attention focused on her and his jaw came unhinged. She admitted it? She wanted him? Him?
“—were you watching me?”
He gave the barest of nods in response. Her palm was like satin on his scar-roughened skin. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his chest. “You could’ve joined me.”
Bathe with her? He wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that. He wanted to do sordid and depraved things with her. To her. A tremor rolled through him. He took a step back and fisted his hands against the need to pull her close.
Once he had her, she wasn’t ever getting away.
She pursued him, tenacious as a house cat baiting the neighborhood mongrel. “Did you like what you saw?” A shock wave rippled through her aura and her colors darkened as if she regretted the question as soon as she’d asked.
“You’re beautiful.”
Her breath caught. Her colors brightened but otherwise stayed the same; red, violet, and white. “Would you like to touch me?”
“Jesus, Kat—”
She pressed closer, lifting her hands to his head. “It’s just us. You could take this off and—”
His hand captured hers. “My eyes stay covered.”
Her skirt rustled, her bare feet padding closer.
“Damn you, stay back.” His back came up against the wall. He didn’t want her to touch him. He already had a raging hard on and he wasn’t made of stone. “You keep going, butterfly, I will not be held responsible for what happens next.”
She took another step. Her toes touched his. She put her cheek against his chest. She stood too close for him to hope she missed his erection cuddled between them. “Mm, I can see that.” She rubbed her face against him as if she were a kitten seeking attention. Her hair flirted with his skin, drawing gooseflesh.
“You shouldn’t trust me.” He hated how shaky his voice was. “Hell, I don’t even trust me.”
“That’s because you don’t remember yet. You’ll see, Jules.” Her words whispered across his skin. “You’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.”
“You’re as crazy as I am.”
Her mouth trailed inflaming kisses up his chest to his neck. If he were a better man he’d push her away. The scent of cinnamon surrounded him, her soft mouth drove him to distraction.
How could she put her mouth on his skin? He hated wondering. He hated that he liked it.
He needed to stop this before she got hurt. He tried to call up the horrible images that stopped him before, but Mary Jane Kelly wouldn’t come. Instead, his minds-eye conjured a flame-haired beauty with her head thrown back in ecstasy and his name on her lips.
She trailed her hands up his chest to the base of his skull and cajoled him to bend his head to her. How did she do that? Every gesture, every touch was sweet, incredibly soft. Impossible to resist.
He lowered his face, expecting a kiss. Instead, she rubbed her cheek along his, letting her flesh glide along his as she pulled away. Her lips brushed his, feather light, as she changed sides, repeating the little ritual on his left side. Her fingers spread through his hair, coaxing him to relax into her arms, to accept her sweet entreaty.
There was more tenderness in that action than he’d ever known. She was like a butterfly—all softness and light, arousing his interest with little effort.
Her cheek slid against his again, stopping when they were nose-to-nose, forehead-to-forehead. Her breath whispered across his lips. “Touch me.”
Julius groaned. “I can’t do this to you, Kat.”
She took his hand in hers, bringing it to her breast. “I would hope not.” A smile teased in her voice. “I’d rather you do it with me.”
He held the firm weight of her breast in his palm and beneath the thin fabric her nipple pebbled. Jesus, what he wouldn’t give to see that little bud pucker for him.
Her mouth was a breath away and still she didn’t kiss him. She simply waited. Touching him in innocent, yet inflaming ways. Offering everything, and waiting for him to take.
“I need you, Jules.” A moan laced her words. She nudged deeper into his palm, her belly brushing against his erection.
She was everything he wasn’t—kind, sweet, and soft. Everything he craved.
She nipped at his bottom lip. The little bite of pain pushed him over the edge. He gripped her head between his hands, took her mouth and turned with her, pressing her to the wall with his body.
She even tasted sweet, damn her.
He pressed his thigh between hers, his hand returning to her breast.
She whimpered.
He froze. Good God, he was mauling her. He took a deep breath and forced himself to step away.
“No.” She threw herself back into his arms.
He put out his hands to stop her, but lacked all commitment to the idea of saving her from himself. He wanted her and he was bastard enough to take her.
He skimmed his hands down her sides, letting his fingers glide against the natural curve of her body as far as he could reach before bunching the skirt of her shift in his hands. He lifted it, letting his hands again trail along her contours. She was naked under there. His cock throbbed, desperate to be inside her.
The dress was thin, soft to the touch. He raised it over her head and she lifted her arms. But when he reached her wrists he stopped and twisted the material.
Kat didn’t seem to notice. Maybe she thought they wer
e caught in a tangle, because she kept kissing him, driving him closer to insanity with her mouth. He must be mad; crazed, to be doing what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop himself. Not once he’d twisted the material into tight little shackles for her wrists. Not when he backed her up onto the wooden steps leading to the bed, nor when he lifted her in one arm to slip the now tiny neckline over the bedpost. He slid it down the smooth wood with one hand before laying her back in the bed, her arms stretched out above her.
She seemed to notice something wasn’t right. The bright white in her aura turned muddy. “Jules?”
He knelt between her legs. “Do you trust me?”
She swallowed. “Of course.”
He closed his eyes, removed the fresh bandage from his head and slipped it over hers, covering her eyes. “Still?”
There was the barest of hesitation. “Y-yes.”
He opened his eyes. She had freckles. He grinned. Lots and lots of freckles.
His gaze stroked over her face, down the pale column of her neck and stuttered to a halt. Whoever had bitten her hadn’t been kind. They’d damn near ripped out her throat.
A shudder ran through him. She was damned lucky to be alive. And whoever had done this to her better hope to hell he was already dead because he would not be kind to him.
“Jules?”
Later. He’d deal with that later. She was spread before him like an erotic feast, arms bound over her head, breasts thrust upward and her core opened to him and he had no intention of allowing this moment to slip away. Spreading his knees, he forced her legs wider and reveled in the view.
“Don’t move.” He got off the bed and his clothes rustled as he removed them.
She shouldn’t have trusted him. Her breath lashed out of her with each erratic rise and fall of her breasts. Her hands grasped the material of her dress, looking for an escape and found not a finger’s width of space between her skin and the stretched, twisted material. She’d been caught up in the press of his body, the searing heat in his kiss that she hadn’t noticed there was a problem until it was too late.
Now, she was at his mercy.
What had she been thinking? How could she have trusted this male when she couldn’t ever even remember trusting Mother?
He’s your mate.
You do trust him.
He hadn’t harmed her. True, she was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, but he’d yet to do more than kneel between her spread thighs. He must be looking at her. Watching her.
Her face flushed with heat. Half the reason she’d been bold was because he’d refused to take the blindfold off. Gaia, what was he thinking? No wonder he hadn’t attacked her yet. He was likely realizing he’d made a mistake.
“You are a beautiful woman, butterfly.” His voice sounded rough, strained. “Beautiful, everywhere.”
When his hands settled on her legs, she jumped.
She forced her breathing to slow, oddly comforted by the slow, firm pressure of his hands dragging up and down her thighs.
“Come back to me, butterfly. Don’t be afraid.” His palm smoothed down her thigh. “Are you sure you trust me?”
She relaxed more at the deep, baritone of his voice and finally nodded.
“Tell me what you like, butterfly.”
“You.”
“There’s no accounting for taste.” There was a smile in his voice.
She tried to squeeze her thighs together, to ease herself a little.
His hand prevented her from closing her legs. “Obstructing the view isn’t permitted.” He rubbed the scruff on his chin over the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh.
She gasped. “Jules.”
The slick glide of his tongue followed, easing the itch and creating flames in its wake. She arched off the bed.
The low rumble of laughter rolled over her. The bed dipped with his weight. He held himself over her again and all she wanted to do was pull him closer. Feel his weight pressing down on her. She tugged at the bindings, twisted and pulled.
“Trying to get away?” He tsked. One hand threaded into her hair. “Now that can’t go unpunished.” She didn’t have time to worry over that remark. He forced her to bare her neck. Nuzzled her there, tickling her with his whiskers. He licked and kissed his way up to her ear where he drew the lobe into his mouth. Tingles raced down her spine followed by her sharp inhale when he nipped her. Dampness rushed between her thighs as her hips thrust up.
She waited for another nip, unsure if it was dread or longing that made her hold her breath. His teeth scraped down the length of her neck, sending a fresh bolt of shivers rocking through her. Her fingers flexed around her bindings.
His tongue darted out along her collarbone and one hand covered her breast, squeezing and stroking. She arched up into the caress, even as she pulled against her bonds. She needed his mouth there, on her aching nipples. She strained against his hand, seeking more than he was willing to give yet.
“Darn it, Jules.” He didn’t even pause as he kissed his way down her side, avoiding her breasts altogether. Her muscles tensed each time he grazed over a ticklish spot, and her thighs squeezed his hips. His tongue laved her navel.
“Please.” She moaned and found no shame in it. She needed him to ease the ache in her breasts.
“Here?” He nipped the curve at her hip.
She shook her head. “Higher.”
The glide of his tongue made its way over her belly, directly between her breasts to her throat. “Here.”
“No.” She arched her back again, unable to say what she wanted.
“Ah, here.”
With one long stroke of his tongue, he wet her nipple before blowing his warm breath over the tip. She arched in frustration. “More.”
The uneven ridges of his teeth gently scraped back and forth across the puckered tip and she almost cried out a demand for him to stop his torture.
“Please.” She thrust her hips against his again. The long, hard length of his erection pressed against her leg, not nearly close enough to where she wanted him. “Please.”
His arms slid under her, holding her close. She sighed in pleasure when his full weight lowered onto her, as his mouth covered her breast. He suckled. Nipped. Pulled. Instead of finding relief, her need grew stronger, headier. Her insides tightened. She wanted to pin him beneath her and have her wicked way with him. He wasn’t going fast enough, not nearly hard enough and she wanted him deep, deep inside her. Now.
She wet her lips, unable to keep herself from writhing beneath him, trying to bring his cock closer. The broad head teased against her damp hair, raising gooseflesh every time it brushed her clit.
She was breathless. Panting.
He left her so abruptly she cried out. His arms wrapped around her thighs, holding her wide and holding her down. Without warning his mouth pressed against her core. She would have flexed off the bed, but he held her still, tonguing aside damp curls, sucking her clit into his mouth. She let out a cry of alarm at the intensity, the acuteness of her rising desire. He left no part of her unexplored, his lips, his tongue and his teeth in turns, and all too much and none enough.
Mindless, she tried to move against his restraining arms, making sounds she’d never made before. She should be embarrassed, at the least shocked, but she didn’t care. The tension, the desire coiled tighter, almost painful and when she could stand it no more, it wound tighter still.
One hand slipped from around her thigh to press on her lower belly, the other slid lower and he eased his fingers deep inside her, sending bolts of pleasure ratcheting through her. She was close. “Jules!”
“What do you want, butterfly?”
“Now. I want you in me.”
He flexed his fingers. “Nah, exact language.”
She cursed under her breath.
Slowly, he eased his fingers out of her. “What was that?”
“M-make love to me.”
He licked the crease of her leg. Nipped the underside of her breast. Suckled h
er earlobe. His body hovered over hers, his breath on her ear making her tremble. “Say it dirty for me.”
A shiver raced over her skin. “I want your d-dick inside me.”
His weight shifted and he pressed into her. Not all the way. Just the head. Just enough to open her wide and leave her aching for more.
“Damn it, Jules!” She rotated her hips. Tried scooting down the bed as far as her bonds would allow. Arched up.
“Come on.” His voice had dropped lower. His chest brushed her nipples. “Be naughty for me. I won’t kiss and te—”
“Fuck me.” The words shot out of her like cannon fire. “Fuck me, hard. Please.”
Julius grinned. Only his butterfly would tack on a please to that particular demand. He thrust forward and holy hell, she was tight. So damned tight her quivering muscles damn near squeezed him straight to an orgasm.
Jesus, she was glorious. He couldn’t imagine what he’d done to deserve this. The passionate woman in his arms was lost to their love-making, and damn, he couldn’t get enough of her.
Waves of pleasure raced over his skin and he groaned against her mouth, only then realizing they’d both been so focused on their joining they’d forgotten about the kiss. He remedied that, taking her mouth as he slid himself out of her sheath and back in. He set a slow, languid pace, wanting this to last forever.
He shouldn’t be with her, despoiling her with his every touch, but he couldn’t stop. Nor could he understand why she allowed him to make love to her. No, she wasn’t allowing anything, she encouraged him—writhing beneath him, calling his name in breathless whispers. Like the villain he was, he took everything she offered, and more. He seized her body, plundering her mouth as he rotated his hips in a deep caress between her slick thighs. He stole the air she exhaled, letting it mingle with his before feeding it back to her through their kiss.
Her thighs clenched his waist, her heels pressed against his ass and Kat lifted her hips, dragging her heat against his engorged shaft. He almost came then and there. He grasped her hips in his hands, forcing her to still her actions while he caught his breath.
The Knight: The Original's Trilogy - Book 3 Page 16