by Ophelia Bell
He tilted the candle over her stomach and let a continuous stream of wax run in a long line down the center. With a spark of creativity, he altered the path to make a full circle, then continued in a tightening spiral. It pooled in her navel and she cried out a breathy moan, her belly tightening and quivering. He continued lower still, using his knees now to push her legs even further apart and urging her to bend her legs to spread her pussy wider.
Belah was panting hard now, her breasts rising and falling rapidly. He held the candle upright for a second to let more hot wax collect in the caldera around the wick. Keeping it poised there, he bent his head between her spread thighs and captured her swollen clit between his lips, unable to resist a taste before he gave her the final gift. Her velvet flesh was hot and slick, and it was all he could do to release her instead of delving in with his tongue. He pulled back just far enough to give himself room and tilted the candle over her flesh.
The red stream trickled across the top of her cleft first, and she jerked against her bindings.
Lukas paused. “Too much?”
“No. Sweet Mother, I love it.”
The brief taste of her had already made it clear how much she loved it. Her sweet snatch was dripping with her arousal, her clit hot and swollen with need.
Lukas’s head pounded with the unmistakably deep connection he already had with her after their earlier lovemaking. Everything after was a treat.
With a slight turn of his wrist, he let the rest of the wax pour out, right on target.
Belah bucked her hips, as though inviting more of the molten fluid to flow between her legs. With his free hand, Lukas gripped the back of one knee and pushed it up and wide, then sent another hot stream of wax against her sensitive flesh, this time letting it trickle further down between the cheeks of her ass.
She let out a resonant cry that included his name repeated over and over, the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.
He blew out the candle and tossed it to the floor, then bent and blew on the still cooling wax. It instantly hardened, and he kept blowing until it froze entirely, cracking from the shock of the quick temperature change.
“Please, please, I need you,” she cried as her flesh trembled beneath his breath.
“You got me, baby.” Lukas brushed the fragments of frozen wax away from her pink folds and released her leg, moving close between her thighs, his cock in hand where the candle had been moments earlier. This time, he’d fill her with his own molten fluid.
He thrust hard into her, reveling in the way her muscles immediately clamped down around him, as though she never wanted to let him go.
She struggled against the bindings and he reached up to swiftly untie her, but didn’t let her move her hands down. Instead he twined his fingers through hers, holding them above her head while he pistoned into her with hard, urgent strokes.
“That’s right,” he said in response to the look of utter worship she gave him. “You’re all mine now, aren’t you? Let me feel that sweet magic when you come for me, baby. Give it to me, Belah. My love.”
She answered with her body’s silken curves undulating beneath him, rising to meet each of his steady thrusts. Her legs wrapped tightly around him and her muscles gripped his cock so perfectly he struggled not to let go too soon.
She didn’t speak again, only lifting her head to capture his mouth with hers. He sank down atop her, devouring her lips and tongue with his and simply letting their shared orgasm carry them both away like the current of a strong breeze beneath their wings.
“I never want to stop,” Lukas whispered once his climax subsided and he could gaze into her eyes again with a somewhat clear head. “How in the world do I stop after finding you?”
“Hmm, maybe we just take a breath and enjoy the moment?” Belah suggested. She made no movements to dislodge his cock from her body, nor did she remove her legs from around his hips, though she relaxed a tiny bit. She’d closed her eyes and seemed to be listening to something, with her head tilted and her mouth a soft curve of a smile that he wanted to kiss, but was too curious about its origin to destroy it just yet.
“Why are you smiling?”
“You’re inside me, and I love it.”
Lukas raised an eyebrow and glanced down between them to where his cock was still solidly entrenched inside her, steadily growing hard again. Belah laughed.
“No, that isn’t what I mean. Your magic is in my blood now, and it makes me hear music.”
“What kind of music?” he asked, a little worried.
“Your music. I hear every note. I feel every note in my soul now. I am yours, aren’t I?”
Lukas studied her face, trying to grasp the enormity of the moment and suddenly having trouble even believing that he’d found her. Her. Part of him almost rejected the idea that he could be so fucking lucky that she’d walked into his life. That she felt his music in her blood, in her soul … he could barely believe it, but he saw it in her eyes, and knew the truth passed from her lips when the Wind didn’t contradict it.
“You’re my One, Belah Blue. About fucking time I found you.”
He sank into her deep and buried his head against her neck. She sighed and rose to meet him.
Their bodies merged again and again, chests pressed together and hips rocking in tandem. He took them both over the edge repeatedly, rejoicing every time she cried his name.
They eventually parted, sticky from sweat and exhaustion. He pointed her toward the bathroom that adjoined his brother’s room, hoping Iszak hadn’t returned from his gig yet. Blues shows tended to run later.
She returned, carrying a warm cloth that she wrapped around his limp cock, cleaning him gently. The motions of her hand stroking him with the damp terrycloth made him hard again. He groaned.
“I don’t know if I have more in me, baby.”
She cupped his balls and bent down, kissing each one gently. Somehow he was sure the act was intended for more than just to turn him on. When she ran her tongue along the length of his cock, he knew he wasn’t getting to sleep until she was good and ready.
“You taste like you’ve got more,” she said, and kissed the very tip of his cock. Her tongue flicked out and he saw the forked tips for the first time. More than that, he felt what they could do, teasing around his head like there were two.
Thankfully, she only tormented him for a few moments before taking him entirely in her mouth. Even after his previous orgasms, he didn’t last long. It was all he could do not to grab her head and ram her down onto him to get more depth, but the second he clutched at her silken hair, she took him all the way until he was sure she couldn’t breathe. He lost all sense with the sudden, slick heat of her throat around him and came harder than he had before, surprised at the volume he produced after making love with her for hours already.
“Fuuuck!”
Belah sat back and licked her lips. Her entire body glowed and Lukas could only stare through half-lidded eyes at the beauty who’d just blown his mind. Dragons… who knew? They glowed after sex.
He lifted a hand to reach for her and paused to stare at his own hand, which also seemed to be glowing. He waved it experimentally in front of his face.
“Shit …” The word sounded odd in his ears. “Did you roofie me?”
Belah snuggled down beside him, every inch of his body coming alight with her touch. He had the strongest sense of his every cell reaching out for hers and turned to wrap himself around her.
“I don’t know what that means,” she said. “I’ve been out of touch, remember?”
He chuckled. “Sorry. I feel high. You know what that means, right? Drugged. Loopy. Loaded. Stoned. Flying while still on earth. You missed the seventies, or you’d know all this. I fucking loved the seventies. At least after ‘Nam was good and done and I was still alive. I did all the drugs, and baby, yours is the best.”
He sho
uldn’t have mentioned Vietnam, because that brought to mind all kinds of horrors, but her steady stroking touch made all that go away again, until all he cared about was her soft skin and the gradual sinking of his consciousness into sleep. His last thought before darkness took him was: Thank you for her.
Chapter Twelve
Belah stirred from her dreams, hazy, yet sated and content. Lukas breathed slow and steady beside her, deep in exhausted slumber. The strains of music from her dream still drifted through her ears and she hummed along softly with her eyes closed.
Her hums faltered after a moment when she realized she was only hearing one half of the composition that had filled her dreams. This time, however, it was the half that she had yet to hear while awake—the half that had been missing from Lukas’s song. She stopped humming and opened her eyes, turning her focus to the ambient sounds in the dark room, and then what was unmistakably actual music playing from somewhere very close by.
Her heart sped up. It wasn’t the tune that Lukas had played, but the counterpoint that should have accompanied it—that had accompanied it in her dreams. The rhythm matched perfectly, but the notes were different—rougher and deeper in pitch, but no less beautiful.
Glancing down at Lukas’s sleeping face, Belah brushed a kiss across his forehead and silently slipped from the bed.
The music came from above, filtering through the ceiling and the roof beyond. Navigating her way through the moonlit shadows of the apartment, she located a stairwell and stole naked into the darkness. The music grew louder as she approached and she carefully let herself out a door and into the damp night air on the roof.
Rough gravel bit into her bare feet, but she cared little for the discomfort, or for the cool breeze that drifted over her naked skin. Across the roof from where she exited, a solo figure sat, silhouetted by the moon. Silvery light glinted off an instrument in his hands that resembled the one Lukas played, only much larger.
She hesitated to move, lest she disrupt the man’s playing, but Sweet Mother—if Lukas were the one, how could this man’s music fit so perfectly into the missing gaps of her dream? Who was he?
Slowly, she took a few steps to the side, hoping to get a better look at him. Once in profile, she blinked, confused. Lukas? No, it couldn’t be him. She’d left him sound asleep below. Upon further inspection, she saw that this man was slightly larger and thicker around chest and shoulders, his hair cropped close to his head where Lukas’s had been long. But he had the same angular cut to his cheeks and jaw, and from the way he played, the same beautiful, talented mouth.
The music transfixed her. With chest heaving, she began mouthing words that seemed to fit the sounds that carried through her memory and through the air across the roof to her ears. In a voice she hadn’t used for eons in such a manner, she sang, the song pouring from her soul in accompaniment to the music that came from the man’s saxophone.
His aura flickered around him, the shimmering cloud that reflected a turul’s connection with the winds signaling his awareness of her, though his playing never faltered. His head shifted in the direction of her voice and his dark eyes rose until they were locked onto hers.
The moment was charged with energy, his eyes widening with unexpected recognition. Belah kept singing, both elated and confused by this need to match the notes of his song with her own voice, all the while in her mind she replayed the notes of Lukas’s song along with it. Together, it all felt right. Whoever this man was, with his shadow of dark emotion—sadness that filtered into the sounds coming from his instrument—he was meant for her, and she had to have him.
Her voice rose to a crescendo, along with the notes of the music he played. Around her a light breeze picked up, flowing across her body and twisting in the long strands of her hair. The sounds of their songs merged together and the breeze became a cool wind swirling around her.
When he played the last note, it seemed to go on forever, and she sensed he didn’t wish to end the song. A din of emotions reached her from his mind—the strongest was his belief that somehow, he’d conjured her with his music and that she wasn’t really there. He wanted her so badly, but feared that she would fade away the moment that last note faded into the heavens.
Tears began to well in his eyes as he continued to force the note to persist, but even his magically imbued lungs were running out of air, and so were Belah’s.
They trailed off at the same moment, their gazes still locked. She took a tentative step closer. He removed the strap from his instrument and set it on the ground, leaning it gently against his seat, never once turning away from her. Slowly he stood, his gaze roaming over her, flitting up and down her body in disbelief.
Yes, I am still here, she wanted to say, but held the conviction that anything but a song would disrupt their connection.
They stood a few feet from each other, his mind still a blur of confusion and wonder at her very existence. Finally, he made an incoherent noise of impatience and rushed to her.
His large body loomed, then his arms were around her, lifting her up while he gripped the back of her head and tilted it back for his mouth to find hers. His fingers twined in her hair and she let him devour her, tongue lashing between her lips while her own answered with equal fervor. His momentum kept them moving until she felt cold brick against her back and was vaguely aware that he had her pressed against the wall beside the door she’d come out of.
One large hand cupped her breast, and his hungry lips trailed down to take her nipple fully into his mouth. Belah raked her fingers through his short hair, clawing at the back of his neck while his suckling mouth pulled and teased at her, soon switching to the other breast.
His hips tilted up, pressing hard against hers, his erection straining at his jeans. She ran her hands down his hard chest, pulled his shirt up and off, then went for the button of his jeans. Heavy breaths gusted against her ear as she unfastened his pants and reached inside.
She stroked him, coaxing his massive length out of his pants and rejoicing at the velvet heat of his skin against her aching core. With one hand bracing himself against the wall beside her head, he wrapped the other around her thigh and lifted her up higher.
Belah wrapped both legs around him, leveraging herself up his body with one hand on his shoulder. She sank down onto him, taking him entirely in a single stroke and crying out as he stretched her slick channel, fitting as perfectly as Lukas had. He pulled out slowly and rammed hard into her with a harsh grunt, nailing her hips into the wall. It would have been painfully uncomfortable, if Belah didn’t love it so much.
His dark eyes remained fixed on hers, focused intently on her face as though committing her features to memory. She still sensed the lingering disbelief in his mind, even though he was buried deep inside her. She couldn’t speak through the unbearable pleasure of his touch, dared not destroy the primal connection they had in this moment. Unlike Lukas, this man’s love was raw and unrestrained, wild and unapologetic.
He fucked her rough, almost desperately, driven by the belief that this might just be the only taste he ever got of her. She found herself pinned against the wall, his fingers twined in hers, holding her arms above her head. Only their joined hips and her legs around his waist kept her aloft.
Gravity didn’t matter when they could both fly, and soon she gave into the buffeting winds that surrounded them, letting her wings unfurl. Her new lover moaned, his soft nips and licks turning into harder bites along her throat the more frantic his fucking became.
His hands tightened around hers and he reared back, staring down into her eyes as his face constricted in pleasure. With another violent thrust, he spilled his orgasm into her and his own wings snapped wide, feathers fluttering in the harsh wind.
The door beside them banged open. Belah’s gaze shot to the side, then down, surprised to realize that the pair of them were hovering together several feet off the rooftop. Beneath her stood Lukas, his e
yes wide with confusion, then wild with fury.
“Iszak! Let her go, you son-of-a-bitch! She’s mine!”
Iszak North. Sweet Mother, one brother couldn’t have been enough, could it?
She tried to extract herself from Iszak’s embrace, but he held tight. The wind picked up speed as he finally pulled away from her. She pulled in her wings and they almost fell, but Iszak caught them both at the last second and lowered her slowly.
Iszak’s hands still lightly gripped her hips as he regarded his brother. “I beg to differ. The Winds sent her to this very rooftop—they finally answered my mating call after all these years.”
“Bullshit. She answered my call tonight and she came up here from my bed. Belah, tell him you’re mine.”
Lukas’s face was grim and frightening. The winds howled around them, chilling her. Beside her, Iszak pulled away and advanced on his brother, jerking up and refastening his jeans before shoving his finger in his brother’s face.
“I don’t give a fuck where she came from. My music called to her. No one else could have answered but her.”
The wind howled around Belah, whipping her hair across her face so it was difficult to see. The night darkened, clouds blotted out the moon, and thunder rumbled around them, sending tremors through the rooftop.
Her skin prickled from the chill, the wind so loud and violent she shouldn’t have been able to hear their voices. Icy drops of rain pelted her skin, and a sudden gale slammed into her, pushing her hard against the wall. Her head flew back, cracking painfully against the bricks, but the brothers seemed not to notice. They were singularly focused on their anger.
The raindrops cascaded sideways one way, and then the other while Iszak and Lukas stepped around each other, eyes wild. They were yelling now, but the noise of the growing storm was too loud, the wind too strong. Their auras had grown as volatile as the clouds above, lightning cracking overhead while they pointed and yelled.