by Jodi Redford
“Don’t worry. I put on a condom.”
When the hell did he do that? Then again, that wasn’t what had her freaked out at the moment. The fact that he was dangerously close to divesting her of her virginity? Yeah, pretty much the sole cause for the sweat breaking out on her forehead. “We can’t do this.”
“It’s a little late to be playing hard to get, sweets.” Despite his amused drawl, tension bracketed Sam’s mouth. “Relax. You’re tensing up on me.”
“You don’t understand. I—” She yelped as Sam bore down with his hips. A sharp stitch of pain stole her breath as his thick cock defeated the resistant barrier of her hymen.
He stopped, a flicker of surprise flashing across his face. “Holy shit. You really were a virgin.”
She met his incredulous stare and grimaced. “Yes, so you can get off of me now.”
“Not hardly. I’m nowhere near done with you.” As if to prove his point, he started moving inside her again.
The pain intensified, and she winced. This was what sex felt like? If she’d known, she certainly wouldn’t have fought so hard to lose her virginity all these years. Talk about a huge letdown.
“You look like you’re hating this.”
Duh.
Determination glinted in Sam’s dark eyes. “We can’t have that.”
Oh yes they could. At least if she despised it, the guilt over giving herself to Sam would be more bearable.
He slowed his thrusts to a leisurely in-and-out plunge. Her inner walls clung to his shaft, the friction turning…pleasant. Within seconds, the pleasurable glow became delicious and consuming. Here she’d thought nothing could compare to Sam’s mouth on her pussy. Sweet goddess, she’d been dead wrong.
She bit her lip, foolishly hoping the tiny burst of pain would muffle the sensual sparks zinging through her synapses. As if he were fully aware of her internal battle, Sam leaned down and flicked her nipple with the tip of his tongue.
She groaned. “D-don’t do that.”
He rumbled a laugh. Even that vibration against her skin was a sexy torment. “Why? You damn well know you like it.” He did it again, and her breath hitched. Abandoning her nipple, he nuzzled the side of her neck. “Know what I like? How tight and slick you are around me. Your pussy was made for fucking, sweet Bella.”
His words were raw and raunchy and far more arousing than she cared to admit. Once again, Sam seemed to intuit her unwillingness to give in to her body’s treachery. He shifted, coming up onto his knees slightly, and grasped the rail behind her head with one hand. The other slid between their bodies, his fingers coasting with unerring precision over her clit. She choked on a gasp, captivated by his gaze. Unmistakable intent burned in his eyes. Come hell or high water, he was determined to make her climax again.
Damn if she’d give in that easily. She tried to distract herself with inane thoughts. Complex mathematical equations worked for a few minutes, but when she attempted to recall what the square root of pi was, that of course led to thinking about pie. Or more specifically, licking pie a la mode off Sam’s chest while she rode him.
Aw crap. This line of thinking wasn’t helping.
Hips flexing, Sam surged deeper inside her. It was as if his cock knew how to hit every one of her sweet spots in precisely the right way. She gnawed her lip until she tasted blood. Sam’s thumb rubbed insistently upon her clit, and her toes curled with the effort to resist his silent demand.
His mouth hovered a breath away from hers. “It’s no use. I’m going to make you come again. Hard.”
He increased his thrusts until he was pounding into her. Slick, erotic sounds of their joining filled the room, adding to the sensuality sweeping over her. The soft abrasion of his bunched jeans rubbed the insides of her thighs, creating its own tormenting friction. Sweat mottled Sam’s face, and lines of strain furrowed his forehead. Still, his intense gaze compelled her to give in to him.
Resistance proved futile.
She flew off the edge of the precipice, the overwhelming orgasm detonating every cell in her body. She cried out and bucked beneath Sam. A smile loaded with triumph and pure sin curved his lips just as her magic manifested in a shower of shimmering white sparkles all around them. The nearby glass table lamp shattered into a million pieces.
Even as unconsciousness crept over her, the shameful ramifications of her actions smothered her in a blanket of guilt. Not only had she given a demon access to her body, she’d lost control of her magic with him—the worst of all crimes.
If the guild ever found out about this, she could kiss her white status goodbye.
Chapter Nine
Feeling as if his bones had just liquefied, Sam slumped onto the mattress. At the last second he remembered not to crush Marabella beneath his weight and instead rolled to the side. The daybed was too cramped for both of them to lie next to each other though, forcing him to hang partially off the edge of the mattress. Yeah, that was fucking comfortable.
Grunting, he eased out of Marabella and staggered to his feet. He hiked up his jeans before raking a hand through his hair and staring at Marabella’s sleeping form. She was out of it. Really out of it. Like dead to the world.
Shit, she wasn’t actually dead, was she? That last energy burst that erupted from her had damn near been powerful enough to suck the life out of anyone, himself included.
He leaned over her and detected the soft whisper of her breath. Not dead. Well, that was good. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to killing people, but he’d never done it through sex. It would have been a damn shame if Marabella had been his first unwitting casualty.
Against his better reasoning, his gaze swept lower, lingering on the tight buds of her nipples, then lower still to the pink glistening folds of her pussy. His cock twitched with renewed life. Tempting as it was to crawl back between her legs and wake her up for round two, there was also no way in hell he’d give in to the urge. Becoming addicted to sex with her was a guaranteed fucking twelve-step program waiting to happen. He couldn’t afford that kind of shit. No, better to chalk this up to an incredible one-time deal and hope she’d managed to corrupt his seal. Because if she hadn’t?
He refused to ponder the ramifications of that possibility.
Securing the condom with one hand, he strode into the kitchenette and searched for a waste can. He located it beneath the sink and pitched the condom inside. Leaning against the cupboard, he scratched his jaw. Marabella’s sweet, musky scent clung to his fingers. He could still taste her on his tongue. Hear her sexy moans and ecstatic cries ringing in his ears. The lust pooling in his groin intensified a million times over.
Time to get out of there before he did something epically stupid—like sink into her softness and stay there the rest of the night. Hell, the rest of eternity. Pushing away from the counter, he returned to the bedroom display and yanked his T-shirt on. He unwound his belt from the bed rail and noticed that he’d forgotten to untie Marabella’s wrists. Much as the thought of touching her again filled him with equal parts hunger and undiluted dread, he couldn’t leave her like that.
Could he?
Fuck. Steeling himself, he loosened the knot and eased the cord enough that it slacked around her hands. She could easily pull the rest of the way free once she woke up.
Refusing to give her delectable body a final glance that might officially kill his few remaining shreds of sanity, he shut his eyes and teleported to his GTO. After fetching his keys from his jacket, he cranked on the engine and drove to his house.
By the time he pulled into the garage, a strange wooziness was making his head spin. Shit, maybe the seal breaker had worked. That’d be a first for him—something actually going as planned and without any fuckups. Slinging his jacket over his shoulder, he steadied himself in the seat and visualized his bedroom so he could teleport again. Considering the mushy grogginess overtaking his brain, it was easier said than done. Finally he managed to concentrate long enough to fix the image in his mind.
Nothing. He sti
ll sat in his garage. Bloody hell. Looked like he’d have to hoof it the old-fashioned way. He climbed from the GTO and, with a series of half-shuffling, half-staggering lurches, made it to the door leading into the house. He struggled to fit the key into the lock, and after a dozen or so tries, gave up and thudded his fist on the doorframe.
He was pretty damn sure a year passed before the door snicked open and revealed Nikki standing in the entry. At least he thought it was her. Hard to tell with all the weird green stuff all over her face.
Maybe he was staring at an alien.
The alien Nikki reached out and tugged him into the entry. “Thank God you’re back. Cass is forcing me to play beauty shop. I need you to save me before she makes me give her a damn pedicure.”
“Yours face’s…s’green.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you drunk?”
Was he? He didn’t think so. That he could recall. “’S’going to…” What was that thing people slept on? Oh yeah, “…bed.” He untangled his arm from Nikki’s and wove his way to his bedroom, occasionally banging into a wall en route. The journey took longer than usual. For Devil’s sake, did his cousins add an addition to the house while he was out? Groaning, he stumbled toward the bed and belly-flopped onto the mattress.
Several hours later, his own deafening snores jostled him awake.
He felt like serious shit. The kind of godsawful crappiness that signaled either a wicked case of flu, or imminent death.
He suspected the latter was knocking on his doorstep. Damn, he had said he’d rather be dead than Pricilla’s errand boy. For once, it looked like his wish was coming true. Sweating like a crack addict and his head spinning, he crawled beneath the covers.
And waited to die.
Chapter Ten
Marabella shifted her head and blinked against the bright ray of sun streaming through the window. A sparkling mote of dust swirled in the sunbeam’s epicenter. Jeez, I really need to do a better job of dusting in here.
Grimacing, she rubbed her eyes and scooted into a sitting position. A cool draft from the nearby air vent breezed by her, disturbing the lovely cocoon of warmth the sun had wrapped her in, as well as tightening her nipples.
That’s when she realized she was naked—in the middle of her damn store. She’d had plenty of embarrassing dreams that’d featured unfortunate occurrences of public nudity. Just like with those, this was no more entertaining. Ducking to the floor, she scrambled to grab her dress from beneath the daybed. What in the world was it doing under there? And why had she been sleeping buck-naked on the—
With mortifying clarity, the events from the preceding night rushed back.
Oh goddess. She’d had sex with Sam. A demon.
Forget about being stripped of her white-witch status—she’d probably burn in the big fire pit down below for this offense. Battling to get the dress past her head, she dashed toward the doorway and yelped when something sharp jabbed through the thin sole of her sandal. Hopping on one foot, she gaped at the bits of clear glass littering the ground. Her gaze shot sideways and fell on the shattered remains of the table lamp. Aw crap. She’d forgotten about her magic blasting the stinkin’ thing.
Making a mental note to sweep up the mess before she opened shop, she raced toward the rear stairway. Once upstairs, she ripped the dress off again and kicked free of her shoes. After cranking the shower to the hottest setting she could tolerate, she climbed into the stall and scrubbed herself furiously beneath the spray. It was foolish to think a loofah would scour away her sinful misdeed, but it made her feel better.
Sort of.
The heaviness of everything hit her like a Mack truck. She dropped the sponge and buried her face in her hands. The pelting water was like stinging pinpricks on her skin, but even that discomfort didn’t mask her misery. Slumping against the slick tile, she stared bleary-eyed at the sudsy water swirling down the drain.
She’d grown complacent with the idea of being a virgin the rest of her life. Well, mostly. Now that she was no longer one…it felt weird.
The damnable part was she couldn’t even talk to anyone about it. Couldn’t share this startling new facet of her existence—being devirginized. If there was such a word. Which there probably wasn’t. Regardless, this had to remain her dirty secret. She couldn’t even tell Willa, her best friend, because there’d be the inevitable question of who Marabella’s first lover had been, and she certainly couldn’t reveal that.
Lover. The cascading water muffled her snort. If there was one word to describe Sam, it wasn’t that. He hadn’t even stuck around, for goddess’s sake. Not that she’d expected him to cuddle or anything. That sure as hell didn’t seem like his style. But it would have been nice if he hadn’t skulked away like a thief in the night. Or a guy who’d gotten his rocks off and couldn’t wait to get her out of his sight.
Not only was he a demon. Apparently he was also a huge asshole.
Too bad her hormones couldn’t get on board with that fact. Just thinking about the way his hands and mouth glided over her skin last night was enough to make her shiver, despite the scalding heat surrounding her. He’d been so masterful in conquering her body. Would any other man have been able to do the same?
She scowled at the ridiculous question. Of course they could. Because if not—and Sam truly was the best sex she’d ever experience…
Okay, that’s a depressing thought. Grumbling, she dunked her head beneath the spray and finished washing up. Less than an hour later, she made her way downstairs and unlocked the doors and flipped over the Open sign. She’d exchanged the goddess gown for a pink pencil skirt and matching camisole. She’d chosen the outfit in the hopes the color would banish a fraction of her dismalness. So far, it wasn’t exactly doing a bang-up job.
Clutching the broom she’d fetched from the supply closet, she returned to the bedroom display and swept the scattered glass into a pile, which she promptly chucked into the wastebasket she’d dragged from the kitchen. She hadn’t failed to notice the discarded condom resting on the pile of paper towels in the trash can, mocking her. Tossing the avalanche of broken glass on top of it felt particularly satisfying. Too bad it wasn’t so easy when it came to the situation with the daybed. Tempting as it was to haul it out to the dumpster so she wouldn’t have to look at it and constantly be reminded of her downfall, she couldn’t do it. For one thing, the bed was too damn heavy to move on her own. Not to mention too expensive to relegate to the trash heap, no matter how much the alley cats would appreciate her generosity.
She glanced at the price tag dangling from the corner finial. Maybe she’d mark the damn thing down enough to help get it out the door faster. In the meantime, she’d strip and replace the bedding. It wouldn’t do selling used merchandise.
Without warning, Sam’s sexy baritone whispered through her mind. What kind of saleswoman would you be if you didn’t test out the merchandise?
She swallowed past the dryness in her mouth. Well, they’d certainly tested the springs, for darn sure.
Determined to exorcise this particular demon from her head once and for all, she balled the sheets and coverlet into a makeshift hobo sack and carried them into the rear hallway. Later, she’d take them upstairs to be washed—or better yet, burned. The only thing left to do was collect the throw pillows that she and Sam had knocked to the floor last night.
She rushed back to the scene of the crime just as the chimes dinged through the intercom, announcing the arrival of a potential customer. After calling out to let the customer know she was in the back and available if they needed anything, she stooped and snagged the peach and lime-green floral bolster pillow wedged by the nearest leg of the daybed. The tapping of high heels sounded behind her. Clutching the pillow to her chest, she straightened and turned, priming a welcoming smile. Her mom stood in the doorway.
Surprise washed over Marabella, immediately followed by paranoia and panic. Ridiculous as it was, she swore Domino would be able to immediately detect her devirginized state.
“I—I have no idea.”
Domino gave her a hard stare, and Marabella silently groaned. She hugged the pillow tighter. “I mean, yes, I do know. That’d be pretty weird if I didn’t, right? Unless some mischievous elves broke in here with the sole purpose of trashing this room because they’re carrying a personal grudge against French Bohemian style…” Damn, why didn’t I think of that excuse sooner?
Domino’s squint narrowed even more. Just when Marabella’s stomach twisted under the certainty that her mom was seconds away from busting her, Domino sighed and waved her hand. “I don’t have time for this nonsense, Marabella. I stopped by to talk to you about a business proposition, but I’m already running behind.” Domino glanced at the Cartier watch strapped around her wrist.
Renewed shock momentarily stole Marabella’s voice. Shaking her head—and the words loose from her tongue—she gaped at her mom. “A business proposition? For what?”
“The guild has approved the redecorating budget for the reception and conference areas of the Alliance headquarters.”
Oh wow. All of the tense misunderstandings between her and her mom evaporated, and she launched herself at Domino, squeezing her in a bear hug. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
Domino cleared her throat pointedly. “You’ll be required to submit a proposal like the other designers invited to bid on the project, of course.”
A smidge of Marabella’s excited happiness withered. Trying not to show her disappointment, she nodded. “I wouldn’t expect you to pull any strings for me.” Even if it would have been nice.
Her mom glanced around again, obviously cataloging the décor. “You have an excellent eye for color and style, Marabella. I’m sure that will put you in top running for the job.”
The staggering compliment went a long way in rubbing salve into her wounded pride. “Thank you.”