by A C Warneke
Then his mouth was on hers and he was consuming her whole with a kiss.
Her hands trembled as they skirted across his sizzling skin. She was afraid of touching him and discovering he was mist, an illusion, that this wasn’t real. She had dreamed about it for so long, fantasized about him for so long, that she couldn’t quite grasp that it was finally happening. She was kissing Armand! He was solid, he was real and the kiss was better than she could have ever imagined.
Sliding her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, she went up on her toes and fell into the kiss. Heat embraced her as he took her into his arms and deepened the kiss, gently pushing his tongue into her willing mouth. The taste of midnight and mint filled her senses and she was drowning. She felt the long, thick ridge of his erection against her belly and she shivered in fear and excitement.
It was finally happening.
His chest was so hard against hers, so perfect, as if they were made for one another. Her hands slid higher, into the thick silk of his hair. She pulled him closer as if even a sliver of space between them was too much. Warmth flooded her system and her body quaked.
His hands were at her waist, her ribs, and he was pulling her shirt up. Reluctantly, she broke the kiss and held her hands over her head as he tore the shirt from her body. She stepped back to resume kissing but he held her at a distance and ogled her body, the sun-kissed skin mottled with all of the colors of the rainbow, her delicate bra ruined by seven different colors. The sheer lace cupped the full weight of her breasts, presenting the flesh as an offering to her beloved.
Reverently, he reached out and she saw that his hand trembled as well. Ever so lightly he traced the curve of her breast before cupping it in his warm palm. She held her breath as she watched the hunger burnish his cheeks, as he took a ragged breath. He slowly pushed the strap off her shoulder, pulled the cup away from her breast, baring her to his gaze.
He raised his head and green flames devoured her soul. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”
She covered his hand with her own, holding his hand against her breast, knowing he could feel her heart fluttering madly. Moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, she whispered, “Don’t stop.”
His eyes closed and he inhaled deeply but he did not remove his hand. She could see the battle raging on his face, his usual impenetrable mask gone as he waged an internal war. Capturing her lower lip between her teeth, knowing there was no turning back, she tugged at the knot that held the material around his waist together. The soft cotton came undone and she pushed the robe off of his broad shoulders, watching his face as the material fluttered to the floor. He stood before her in all of his naked glory and her belly quivered in anticipation. She could barely catch her breath as her heart thudded rapidly in her chest.
Her teeth sank deeper into her lip as his erection stretched towards her, dark with blood that raged just beneath the surface. It was long and thick, wrapped in heavy veins with a plum-shaped head that leaked a clear fluid. With a shaking hand, she reached out and traced the lines of one of the veins along its long length, making his penis twitch. The skin was hotter than melted steel, the flesh was hard as iron, but the skin… the skin itself was like nothing she had ever felt. It was so soft and perfect. He was huge and she knew it was going to hurt to take him into her body but he was what she wanted, what she had always wanted. He was magnificent and she would bear any pain to be one with him.
He sucked in a shuddering breath as she ran her hand along the length of his erection and she froze, her gaze flying to his face, to his eyes that were half-shuttered but still burned into her soul. Color was splattered across the harsh planes of his face and he no longer held any trace of coldness for which he was famous. “Ferris, you don’t know what you’re doing.”
Holding his eyes, slowly sliding her hand up and down, pumping his penis in a slow, deliberate rhythm, she purred, “I know exactly what I’m doing, Armand. I want this. I want you.”
He groaned a heartbeat before claiming her lips in another scorching kiss, his hands tearing her fragile bra from her body. Her soft curves were pressed against his unyielding flesh and flames kissed her skin, sinking deeper and deeper until her body was on fire. The soft denim of her shorts rasped against her skin and she needed to be naked, to feel the length of his body all along hers.
In desperation, she started tugging at the fastening of her shorts, fighting with the snap until Armand’s strong fingers simply jerked the zipper down, tearing the denim until the material fell to the ground and landed next to his discarded robe. Broad fingers delved into her lacy panties and pressed against the damp and swollen folds of her sex, the touch both foreign and exhilarating. Instinctively, her legs parted and he pressed a finger deeper, touching the unbroken skin of her virginity.
He pulled back and looked at her, his breathing harsh and rapid, “There’s no turning back.”
“I know,” she whispered, thrusting her hips forward and rubbing her clit against his finger. She closed her eyes as exquisite pleasure burst forth from the light touch. His hand moved and the panties were torn from her body and she was blissfully, unapologetically naked. Closing the breath of distance between, she flattened her body against his, letting every inch of her skin absorb the delicious feeling of touching Armand.
Suddenly, he grabbed her around her back and beneath her knees, swooping her up into his arms and against the blistering heat of his chest. Holding her gaze, he moved slightly before depositing her on the covered chaise, following her down until he covered her with his body. “This is a very bad idea.”
Brushing the hair out of his eyes, letting her fingers linger at his temple, she smiled unsteadily, “It’s the very best idea.”
With a groan of surrender, he kissed her, letting his hand move over her body to stroke her curves, her flat stomach. His hand moved between her thighs and she startled at the contact. Laughing softly, he smiled against her lips, “Relax. If we’re going to do this we’re going to do it right.”
Her smile widened at his words. They were so Armand, embracing the inevitable and making it his own. He was so domineering and she adored that part of him, she adored all of him. And when he lightly traced the swollen folds of her sex she just wanted him to hurry up and enter her. He chuckled, moving his fingers in a slow, sensuous rhythm against her clit, teasing her with the lightest of touches, “You’re so impatient, my sweet.”
“I’ve been waiting for this for five years,” she growled, sliding her hands down his flanks and grabbing his hips. Pulling his lower body against hers, she strained against him, “Hurry, please.”
“Uh uh uh,” he crooned, driving her mad with that barely there touch. He looked like a warrior after battle, with war paint smudged across the sharp lines of his jaw, the flawless length of his nose, the curve of his cheek. Passion poured off of him in waves, deep and powerful and so all-consuming she wondered how he managed to keep it behind a mask for so long.
Of course, she always knew he was simmering with passion.
Reaching up, she softly touched his lips, smiling when he kissed her fingertips. Sliding her hand upwards, she cupped the back of his head and pulled him down to resume kissing. She loved his kisses. His fingers continued to torment her until her hips were slowly undulating to the rhythm he set. A moan rippled from the back of her throat and heat flooded her face in embarrassment.
Until his cock twitched against her belly and she discovered that he enjoyed making her lose control, making her tremble and moan. Her body was weeping for his possession but he refused to speed things up, taking his time as if they had all of the time in the world instead of only until the sun came up. It didn’t matter if they only had a few hours until then. They had forever after.
He thrust a finger into her body, the sensation unlike anything she had experienced before and she craved more. As if reading her mind, he eased a second and then a third finger into her, stretching her pleasurably as he mimicked the movements of what was to come. He stretched h
er further, preparing her for the final penetration.
“I’m ready,” she growled against his lips, her voice low and throaty as she urged him on.
“Not yet,” he denied, lunging his tongue into her mouth as he rubbed his erection against her thigh, the sweltering length blistering her skin. He trailed a line of kisses along her jaw, capturing the lobe of her ear between his teeth before gently biting down and rasping, “I want you to come for me.”
Startled, she jerked her head back and looked up into the blazing green eyes of the man she loved. A slow, heated smile curved his lips as he encouraged her with smoldering eyes. “Come, Ferris.”
She stared at him as he deftly played her body, as he used those musician’s fingers of his and made her skin hum. Unwillingly, her eye lids lowered and she was straining towards the abyss. Warm lips embraced her nipple and she cried out, in astonishment, in rapture. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, breaking skin as an orgasm hit her and she came, her body shaking in ecstasy.
Before the tremors settled, the head of his penis was there, pressing into her. Armand’s big, hard body strained as he pushed past her virginity, past her soul. She cried out as pain struck her, taking her out of the dreamy bliss of being in Armand’s arms. His body froze, his breathing was labored, as he rasped, “Do you want me to stop?”
“Don’t you dare,” she growled threateningly as tears seeped from her eyes and pain radiated outwards from where they were joined. Grabbing his butt, she pulled him closer, feeling another inch disappear into her body, feeling the stretch of taking more than she should.
Resting his forehead against her shoulder he lunged forward until she was sobbing pathetically, pain and pleasure, joy and rapture burning up everything it their path. His body trembled as he held himself still, allowing her body to adjust to his pleasurable invasion. Sweat beaded on his skin, mixing with the paint until color bled from him onto her. She relished in the suffocation of being beneath him, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close.
“Ferris,” he panted, deep and rough. “I have to move.”
“Yes,” she breathed, closing her eyes and smiling in bliss. He shifted and she released him, letting her hands drift over his broad shoulders, to the paint-smeared chest, and resting on his ribs, enjoying the feel of his muscles flexing as he began thrusting his hips. The pain was still a dull ache but she didn’t care. She was with Armand and she knew that the next time was going to be even better.
Pushing his torso up, he stared down at her with those amazing green eyes, holding her gaze as he plundered her body. Silence descended until just the two of them existed, apart from the world. His soul burned brightly in his eyes, entwining with hers until they were one. She could see eternity in his gaze, to a spiritual connection that went beyond time. It was destruction and birth, death and life, to a sensual connection that went far beyond the physical.
Wrapping her legs around his waist, opening herself up to him, she took him into her body, her soul, knowing they were meant to be together forever. Tears stung her eyes as his body tensed, pouring his seed into the vessel of her body. Tears because she knew that no child would be conceived on this most miraculous coupling. Tears because she loved him completely.
His arms collapsed and he crushed her between his hard body and the unyielding chaise. Breathing shallowly since her lungs were compressed, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him, her heart thudding violently in her chest, matching the shuddering rhythm of his heart. She wanted the moment to last forever.
Slowly, Armand swam upwards towards consciousness, feeling incredible, the best he had felt in perhaps forever. A soft, sweet pillow cushioned his body and his cock was buried in the tightest, most fuckable pussy he’d ever had. It was as if she had been created especially for his pleasure. Nuzzling the woman’s neck, breathing in the heavenly scent of her skin, he stilled as two things hit him at once: the scent of oil paint and the hazy memory of the female beneath him.
Slowly, desperately praying for it to not be true, he raised his head and stared in horror at the face that had always been precious and untouchable. The dark curves of eyelashes brushed against the creamy skin of her cheek, only a few streaks of paint marring the clear complexion. Her lips were rosy and swollen from his kisses and a slight smile tilted her lips, even in sleep. Tenderness swamped his heart and he had to tramp it down before the warm feelings caused him to give in to madness once more.
Her words hit him with the force of a sledge hammer. I’ve been waiting for this for five years…. Fuck! What the hell had he been thinking?
Carefully so as not to wake the temptress, he disengaged his body from hers, his penis protesting having to leave the warm, wet depths of her body. A slight frown marred her forehead and she winced, making him freeze. It was almost dawn. If he could get out of there before his brothers got home he would be able to figure out how to handle this. If he could get away from Ferris he would be able to think with the appropriate body part and not the one that yearned to burrow its way back into her luscious body.
His hands hovered uselessly over her body lying in repose, desperate to touch her and make sure she was okay and knowing that if he touched her he would be lost. Deliberately, he stepped away from her, ignoring the siren’s call of her very passionate soul. He had succumbed to lust because they had spent so many hours together talking, laughing. He had been all-but-naked and she had worn those sexy tank tops that hugged her feminine body and shorts that showcased her gorgeous legs. It was no excuse, of course, because he was far older and more worldly than an innocent like Ferris. He should have kept his dick to himself.
Fuck! He just screwed up big time. He was a lecherous fool to give in to his baser instincts. She was a fucking virgin! He should have been able to withstand her charms. Hating the weakness that had struck him dumb, he scrubbed his hands through his hair and stalked towards the door, grabbing the robe and pulling it onto his naked and paint-splattered body. He knew that if he was thinking rationally he would have pulled a blanket over her delectable nubile body. Hell, if he was thinking rationally he never would have succumbed to the madness of Ferris.
Fuck.
Ferris heard the door slam shut and blinked her eyes open. When she had felt him stir, a smile tipped her lips because she knew he was going to kiss her awake and make love to her one more time before the sun rose and he became a gargoyle for the day. But he had stiffened almost immediately and she knew that something was wrong. He wasn’t acting the way he was supposed to act.
At first she thought it was because it was much closer to dawn than he had expected, that he wasn’t going to be able to wake her up in a way that cemented their new relationship. But then she had felt the heat from his hands as he held them over her body but refused to touch her. Despite his peculiar behavior she made excuses for him. It was close to dawn and if anyone discovered them together….
Abruptly, she sat up as horror dawned and her eyes widened in alarm. They could have been discovered! No wonder he was so freaked out. While she was a grown woman, nearly the same age her mother and aunt were when they met their gargoyle mates, she was still a child in their eyes. Armand was only putting space between them until they could sit down and figure out how to tell everyone that they were together now.
That was going to be an awkward conversation.
Smoothing her hands over her thighs, she looked down and giggled a bit hysterically. She was still smeared with paint, even more so now that she had Armand’s paint on her body, too. There was a twinge of pain between her legs and she winced as she shakily rose to her feet. Numb in body but not in thought, she mindlessly picked up her ruined clothes and got dressed. The tank top had survived, albeit stained, but her bra, panties and shorts were victims of last night’s passion and a slight smile curved her lips in memory.
Languidly, she wandered over to her painting, smiling fully as she looked into the passion glazed eyes of her Armand, her warrior, her lover. Together they w
ould be able to ease any ruffled feathers. After all, he was her destiny and destinies always had a way of working out.
With a giddy laugh, she covered the painting and headed to her room. She was going to soak for at least an hour in the Jacuzzi tub and then she was going to head off to class. Everything was going to work out. She had absolute faith in Armand and their love.
Chapter 5
Another Battle is Waged
The sun had set nearly an hour before Ferris was able to get out of the art supply store. She worked there a few hours a week to pick up a little extra cash and art supplies. And after last night she needed to replenish several tubes of paint. While she had grown up surrounded by the wealth of gargoyles, she still enjoyed earning her own spending money. It wasn’t a lot but it was hers and it gave her a little bit of pride that if necessary she’d be able to survive on her own.
With a frown, Ferris looked around the living room. It was strange that everyone was still at the Castle since the trio usually headed out as soon as the sun set. Maybe it was a family meeting, or something because everyone was there: her mother and Rhys, her aunt and Vaughn and their two children, fourteen-year-old Alex and the adventurous toddler, Georgia, in Melanie’s arms, Michael, Leo and Raphe. Everyone was there except for… “Where’s Armand?”
All of them looked at her, one with a knowing smirk. Of course, Michael thought everything was one giant lark and didn’t take much of anything seriously. Smacking Michael’s leg to get him to scoot over, she sat down on the couch, her heart racing a million miles an hour in her chest. Did something happen to him? But, no, if there was something wrong with Armand they wouldn’t be hanging out in the living room talking and laughing, and in the case of the three young gargoyles, getting ready to head out for the night.
“He’s on the roof,” Raphe answered softly, watching her with compassionate violet eyes, making her stomach clench in dread that somehow he knew about her and Armand. She was being silly. Raphe looked at her with compassion because he loved her and they were friends. There was no hidden meaning in his expression. After all, she was the one keeping a secret, a deliciously wonderful secret.