And whatever else he might be, Aldair was no fool. He bent, and claimed her sweet, sweet mouth with his.
Chapter Sixteen
Oh, this was much, much better. With Aldair kissing her like this, his arms pulling her close so he might send his own heat through her chilled body, she didn’t have to think about anything other than how amazing he felt, how wonderful he tasted. How those lips of his touched hers and made her amazingly, thrillingly alive.
Was it wrong? Maybe. But right then she realized she just didn’t care.
And when he drew her away from the window, pulled her down onto the couch, she didn’t resist. She wanted this. God, how she wanted this.
Strong fingers grasped the bottom of her tank top and pulled it over her head, then reached for the clasp on her bra. Dimly, she wondered how a djinn even knew how human undergarments worked, but then she didn’t have time to think about anything else, because his hands closed on her breasts, caressing, moving over the sensitive skin so masterfully that she gasped aloud.
“You are sublime,” he whispered. “So lovely, so perfect.”
She wanted to argue she wasn’t perfect at all. How could she be, compared to a djinn? But then his mouth closed on her nipple, suckling, and the wave of arousal that passed over her was so strong that she almost climaxed then and there. One of his hands remained on her breast, but the other moved lower, finding the button of her jeans so he could undo it, and then pull down the zipper.
Right then, she wished she had put on a skirt — it would have made this a lot easier. She helped as best she could, wriggling out of the snug jeans as Aldair worked them down, followed by her underwear.
Just like a couple of high school kids going for a quickie on the couch, she thought, but she realized she didn’t mind so very much. She was with him, and whether on the sofa or upstairs in his bed, she knew it would be amazing.
He paused so he could shrug out of the open robe he wore, then undid the drawstring of his pants and let them fall to the floor. Jillian had already felt him pressed up against her, but seeing him now, seeing the size of his arousal, she couldn’t help letting out a small gasp. Jack certainly hadn’t been lacking in that department, but Aldair….
Her fingers seemed to go to him of their own accord, wrapping around his shaft so she could feel his heat, his strength. He groaned, and pressed up against her, his hand slipping between her legs, dipping into the delicious warmth at her core.
Oh, God, yes. There. Right there.
She clung to him with one hand as her other caressed him, the delicious little shivers flooding through her telling her that it wouldn’t be all that long now. How could she possibly hold out, when he was making her feel this way?
The orgasm broke through her like a storm surge cresting over a sea wall. She had to let go of his cock then, because she needed both hands to hold onto him as she climaxed, everything in her shuddering apart and then coming together again.
“Aldair,” she gasped, and his lips were warm against her face as he replied,
“My love. My darling. Yes. Let it go.”
She’d never come like that before. How could she, when she’d never gone so long without release? She held on to him, and felt warm winds blowing around them, lifting them up from the admittedly cramped quarters of the sofa. With wondering eyes, she gazed up into his face, then down at the floor, some six or seven feet below them. Good thing the house had ten-foot ceilings. “What…?”
“I want to make love to you like this, as an elemental of the air. Does it frighten you?”
Without hesitation, she shook her head. “No. It’s marvelous, like being held up by a cloud. Anyway, I know you would never let me fall.”
“No, my love,” he said, and kissed her. “I will never let you fall.”
And he began to move down her neck, kissing her the whole way, pausing to caress her breasts for a moment, but she knew then what he intended to do, knew that he wanted to love her in the deepest, tenderest way he could. His tongue touched her, slowly, languorously, as if he wanted to savor her like the world’s rarest delicacy. All she could do was lie back on those cloud-like winds, let them hold her up while he made love to her with his mouth, until another of those mind-blowing orgasms moved through her, this time with such force that she had to cry out, had to give voice to the pleasure that throbbed in every single nerve ending.
The last of those delicious shudders hadn’t finished flowing to her very fingertips before he raised his head and moved upward along her body, skin pressed against skin, until she sensed him pushing against her, pushing into her. He was large, but he slipped in easily enough, filling her, causing her to gasp and wrap her legs around him so he could go even deeper, become one with her.
She locked eyes with his, found herself drowning in those brilliant blue depths, the only ocean she would ever need. They rocked together, finding their rhythm, until she knew she was close again — as was he, by the way his breath sped up and his amazing eyes finally closed, lashes heavy and dark against his cheekbones. And then at last the climax overtook him, and he shuddered into her, even as she rode him for those last few seconds so she might come as well. For the longest moment, they clung to one another, neither of them speaking.
Then at last he kissed her, and smoothed a lock of damp hair away from her brow. “My love,” he said. “My perfect, wonderful Jillian.”
“I love you, Aldair,” she whispered, and she knew she meant it. Was this a betrayal of Jack? She didn’t know. She only knew that her heart now belonged utterly, irretrievably, to Aldair al-Ankara.
He did not lower them to the sofa, but instead blinked himself and Jillian up to the master bathroom, so they might revel in the warmth of the shower together. Which they did, with Jillian running her soap-slick hands over him, as if marveling at the feel of his muscles beneath her fingers.
Well, she was welcome to marvel away, if it meant he could stand there and gaze at her, at the lush contours of her body as the water of the shower beat down upon them. She was so perfect, breasts larger than he had imagined, waist slender, but defined by the rounded curves of her delicious bottom. Aldair resolved then that she should never wear those terrible baggy, borrowed clothes again. They were a crime against her beauty.
At length they emerged from the shower and dried one another off. He hardened at her touch, and she shot him a sly look up through her lashes. “If we start all over again, then what was the point of the shower?”
“Because it felt good,” he said. “Just as this will.”
Before she could protest, he had gathered her up in his arms and taken her over to the bed, where he kissed her over and over, his fingers finding the warm wetness at her womanly center. Then he lifted her so she might straddle him, all her delicious heat surrounding him as he caressed her breasts, bringing him to a climax in what he might previously have thought was an embarrassingly short amount of time. Now, though, he could only think of it as a compliment to her charms.
She didn’t seem to mind. After resting against him for a long moment, her cheek pressed up to his chest, as if listening to his heartbeat, she slipped off and lay next to him, the curve of her hip and leg lining up with his own body, a perfect symmetry.
He touched the silky fall of her hair, marveling at its softness as it slipped through his fingers. How exquisite she was. For the first time, he experienced a rush of pity for her late husband, that he must be taken away from her perfection.
However, Aldair knew better than to voice such a sentiment aloud. He did not want to disrupt the perfection of this moment with any mention of the man she had lost. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her cheek and said, “It grows late. Are you hungry?”
She stretched, a graceful catlike motion. He could feel himself stir, just watching her, but for the most part, he was sated. Right then, he thought it better if they satisfied another kind of hunger.
“Now that you mention it, I am,” she said, smiling. “I had to stop and think about it f
or a minute.” A shift in her position so she could look toward the window, at the rain which still fell outside. “I suppose I lost track of time, especially with the storm making it so dark. It’s definitely sticking around. Strange — usually these monsoon storms blow in and blow out in less than an hour.”
“I like it.” Which was only the truth. He’d always enjoyed the crash of thunder, the glare of lightning, feeling the movements in the air currents and the transient energies that powered the storms.
“So do I. It makes everything feel cozy.” She reached over and gave his hand a squeeze, then slipped off the edge of the bed and stood. While Aldair missed the warmth of her body pressed up against his, he did have to admit that she provided a much better view when standing there like that.
Not that she remained in that spot for very long. “I need to get some clothes on,” she said, then went out and down the hall to her room.
He would have to do something about that. Now they had become intimate, she should share this room with him, and bring her belongings here. Ah, well. That was a subject he could bring up over dinner.
Since there was no point in him remaining in bed, he got up as well and summoned a fresh outfit to wear, this one in royal blue with silver embroidery. Perhaps he could convince Jillian to try djinn garb as well. He thought she would look especially beautiful in a close-fitting tunic of deep blue, the neckline cut low.
When she emerged from her room, he saw that she wore one of the spangled skirts she’d found here in Madrid, along with a tank top in a soft pink shade. It hugged her curves well enough, and he was pleased to see that she’d put on the turquoise necklace he’d given her. She was so beautiful, glowing and happy, that right then he didn’t believe her appearance could be improved any more, not even by djinn clothing.
They went downstairs, where Patches met them with some uncertain tail wags. No doubt he’d been attempting to determine what all those sounds his masters were making might mean, but as soon as Jillian got out the dog food and dumped a respectable amount of kibble into his bowl, all of Patches’ uncertainty disappeared. He set to his meal as Aldair turned to Jillian.
“What would you like for dinner?”
“I can have anything?”
“Well, within reason,” he said. “It is easier if I don’t have to reach too far away to assemble my components.”
“Oh, I’m not asking for pufferfish sushi or anything like that,” she replied with a smile. “I suppose it’s the weather, making me want something familiar. Comfort food. Pot roast and gravy and potatoes.”
“That should be simple enough.” Indeed, he had consumed such meals during his time spent on Earth, when no one had thought him anything other than the human he’d pretended to be. “And you’re right — the weather is suited for this sort of thing.”
She came over and kissed him on the cheek. “Perfect. I’ll go set the table.”
Aldair didn’t stop her as she went into the dining room, even though he could have also prepared the table at the same time he conjured the meal. For some reason, he thought she wanted the comfort of that particular ritual, of telling herself that much of her life was normal, even though so many other things had changed.
As they had changed for him as well. He had never thought his heart one that would surrender, and yet here he had given it to a human woman, one not deemed worthy of being Chosen because she had been too old when the Dying swept through the world’s population.
Too old. Aldair wanted to laugh. From certain comments she had made, he guessed that she had only been twenty-six or twenty-seven at the time of the Heat. Hardly decrepit. And yet…
…and yet, he knew she would continue to age, that although she was young and beautiful now, she would not stay that way forever. Not unless he made her his Chosen.
He had done that for Katelyn, although the bond between them was broken when she was captured by Khalim’s men. When he selected her, he had been so consumed by revenge that he hadn’t stopped to consider all the ramifications of their relationship, that if his plans to take Jessica away from Jasreel turned to nothing, he would be saddled with a woman he didn’t love for all eternity. The universe had spared him that particular fate, it seemed, but now he must make a far more conscious decision.
Not that he had to think about the matter for more than a few long moments, while Jillian put out the placemats and the napkins and flatware, then fetched plates and wine glasses from the cupboard. She was humming under her breath, a happy, pretty sound, although he didn’t recognize the tune. As he listened to her, Aldair realized he did not want to think of a future that did not include her. Even if that future was forever.
He would just have to think of the best way to ask her.
Jillian couldn’t remember the last time she’d experienced such a sense of well-being. Not since the Heat, that was for sure. Too much grief, too much doubt and worry. No, she’d never been ill, except for a very minor cold last winter, but she’d also never felt good, hadn’t felt like her old self. How could she, with Jack dead and the world she knew gone?
Well, you did just have some pretty spectacular sex, she thought as she arranged the candles on the sideboard. That’s always a decent mood elevator.
But she knew it was far more than that. Yes, the sex had been amazing — Aldair clearly knew what he was doing — but if it hadn’t been with him, that was all it would have been. Just sex. With Aldair, though…she had practically felt the love flowing from him, seen the admiration in his eyes as he gazed at her.
And he’d said that he loved her. Never in a million years would she have expected him to reveal so much of himself. Yes, there were terrible things in his past, dreadful deeds and decisions that she couldn’t begin to justify. But the man she loved here and now seemed light-years away from that angry, vengeful person. Maybe his time in the outer circles had tempered that part of him, burned it away.
Or maybe it was something to do with her, with the way they’d interacted over the past few days, making him stop to think about the choices he’d made. Jillian would like to believe that, although she thought the true change had come from within, rather than without.
“Table’s ready,” she told him as she came back into the kitchen.
“Good,” he replied. “For I have just finished selecting the wine. Now we can go sit, and I will bring the food to us.”
Yes, the miracle of his djinn powers, whisking an elaborate meal into the dining room with no more apparent effort than the blink of an eye. It took only about that long as well; Jillian had barely seated herself before the tabletop was filled by a delectable roast on a platter, and a gravy boat full of a dark, rich-smelling liquid, with various bowls containing roasted potatoes and vegetables and salad set around the main course. And bread, too, the warm, golden smell of fresh-baked rolls rising from a basket off to one side.
Good thing I worked off so many calories earlier, Jillian thought, repressing a grin. Aloud, she said, “This all looks incredible.”
“I hope it is enough comfort food for you.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure about that.”
They were silent for a few moments as Aldair dished up the food, then uncorked the bottle he’d brought with him and poured a decent measure into each of their glasses. Once he was done, he lifted his wine glass and said, “I would like to salute the most beautiful and wonderful woman in the world.”
Blood rushed to her cheeks. She’d never been that good with compliments, especially ones as hyperbolic as the accolade Aldair had just delivered. “Well….”
“I think you are the most amazing woman I have ever met, and I have lived a very long time,” he cut in. “So I think you should defer to my judgment on this.”
At those words, what could she do but shrug and laugh? After all, it was only the truth…partly, anyway. Aldair had lived a very long time — longer than she probably wanted to contemplate — and so of course his experience must be quite broad and varied.
Shoul
d she ask him exactly how long he’d lived? No, what would be the point of that? She knew he had to be hundreds of years old, possibly even thousands. When the gap was so wide, it barely counted anymore.
“I think you’re amazing, too,” she said.
He smiled, but she noticed how the smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. “More amazing than Jack?”
Surely he couldn’t be jealous of a man who’d been dead for almost two years. Then again, this was Aldair. She’d seen his good side, saw the passion and fire within him, but she also knew that same fiery nature lent itself to extremes of emotion. “This isn’t a competition,” she said gently. “Anyway, I haven’t asked you about the women who came before me.”
“That’s because they meant nothing — a few hours of passion, nothing more.” He lifted his wine glass and swallowed some of the cabernet it held, but slowly, as if he was evaluating its flavor. “But you were married to Jack. I’ve heard you speak highly of him. So it is a very different thing.”
She supposed it was. But what she’d felt for Jack certainly didn’t change her feelings for Aldair. “A wise man once said that comparisons are odious. So I’m not going to begin to compare the two of you. I loved Jack. I won’t lie and say I didn’t. But he’s gone.” She had to pause there and pull in a breath, because even now the thought of it hurt. Not merely in the sense of what she herself had lost, but what the world had lost as well. His would have been a steadying presence in this post-Dying world. “I’ve spent too long thinking I might as well have died with him. You are wonderful, Aldair, because you’ve made me want to live again.”
At those words, some of the worry left his eyes, and he set down his glass so he could reach over to her and lay his hand on top of hers. Those fingers were long and strong and warm, and at their touch a melting little shiver passed through her. Yes, he was amazing, with the way he could awaken her body with such a whisper of a caress.
Forbidden (The Djinn Wars Book 6) Page 19