Kings of the Fire Box Set

by Lily Cahill

  Blayze stretched and Ramona’s train of thought derailed spectacularly.

  His abs were hard and defined, and he had that cut that led down to his cock like an arrow. She was very, very interested in what that arrow was pointing to.

  He was also tan and grinning at her like he knew exactly how hot she found him. To get a bit of her own yet, she rolled her eyes.

  “You done posing yet, Mr. Showoff?”

  Blayze snorted. “Just wait ‘til I take off my pants. I have not yet begun to pose.”

  “Oh my God.” She leaned back against the door again, laughing despite herself. “Stop, you asshole.”

  “Stop undressing? Okay, but only because I think it’s time for you to catch up.”

  Before she could say another word, his hands were on her, pulling at her cardigan, throwing it across the foyer. The foyer—God, they hadn’t even left the front of the house! Any of her neighbors could walk by and peek in through the windows and see what was going on…

  It didn’t bother Ramona as much as she thought it ought to. In fact, there was something kind of hot about flaunting in the face of danger, forgoing the rules.

  Her shirt didn’t have buttons, and thank God, because she was fairly certain Blayze would have ripped them apart in order to get her out of it. She lifted her arms and he lifted it up over her head, going much slower than she would have expected. It was almost like he was…savoring the reveal, inch by inch.

  The shirt joined the cardigan, and Ramona was there, in only her bra and jeans.

  His hands reached out to touch her stomach, trace lightly over the sensitive skin. His soft touch made her shiver, but it was also—strangely tender. Not that she’d expected Blayze to be rough with her, but she hadn’t thought he’d be loving, either. He touched her like she was something precious, like she was made of glass.

  It was nice, but it stirred something inside of her and made her feel…off-kilter.

  She grabbed at his wrists and pulled him closer. The contrast between her dark skin and his fair skin was so beautiful, opposite sides of the spectrum blending beautifully.

  “I was appreciating the view,” he complained, but then Ramona went to her toes to kiss him again, and he promptly put his mouth to better use.

  His hands worked at the button of her professional work pants as he kissed the air out of her lungs. She lost herself in the feel of him—the slight nibble on her lower lip, the wash of his hot breath over her face whenever they pulled apart for a second.

  Her pants were open, suddenly, and she couldn’t so how, but she felt the dip of his hand inside of them, the brush of his knuckles against her pussy.

  She threw her head back and breathed out heavily. It felt like it had been a thousand years since she had felt like this.

  Blayze’s lips were behind her ear, making their way down her neck as he pushed her pants down to her thighs. Gravity took over, and she was pressed up against her front door in nothing but a lacy bra and panties set.

  He pulled back again, his eyes hungry as they moved over her body.

  “You are ….” He trailed off, shaking his head.

  There was that feeling again, that this was getting more emotional than either of them had expected. To lighten the mood, she reached out and slapped at his arm, forcing a small laugh. “Sap,” she said.

  “I think we ought to take a break so that I can write whoever manufactured your bra a thank you letter.” One hand stayed in front of her sex, and he ran the pad of his thumb ever so lightly against her clit. The other went higher and higher until he cupped her breast in his hand, rubbing the peaked nipple through the flimsy material of her bra.

  “God,” she moaned. He was touching her so softly, just enough to tease and torture, not enough to satisfy. She adjusted, letting her legs fall further open and wrapping her arms around his middle. She tugged him forward. “Please, fuck me already.”

  “Patience is a virtue,” he said, amusement thick in his voice. Every part of him that was touching her was turning her on, even the scrape of his jeans against her soft belly. She wanted—no, needed—more, and she needed it right away.

  “Do I look like I’m interested in being virtuous right now?”

  He laughed at how angry she sounded and rewarded her by pushing hard against her clit. Her muscles jumped inside of her, a deep, pulsing pleasure that promised more and better things to come.

  God, why had she given this up?

  He pulled one bra strap down her arm, and her breast fell out, exposed to the cool air. He leaned forward and lapped at the nipple, circling it with his tongue while doing a similar movement against her clitoris.

  Her panties were soaking. She could feel the dampness building on the inside of her thighs, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t embarrassed. Nothing that felt this good was embarrassing.

  His mouth still on her breast, she felt her panties being pushed aside, and a finger dipped into her pussy. He worked it inside of her, pushing gently, slowly, and then adding a second finger while continuing to circle her clit.

  Her muscles jumped beneath his touch, and that beautiful pressure began to build at the base of her spine. His fingers kept up a steady rhythm, and her hips bucked in tandem. She wasn’t even sure when they had started, couldn’t remember telling them to move. All she knew was that the feeling was there, and it was growing ever closer and closer and—

  His fingers disappeared.

  Ramona wailed at the ceiling, her eyes slamming shut. She looked at him, nearly blazing with need, to find that he was quickly undoing his own pants and letting them fall to the ground.

  His boxer-briefs were black and tight, outlining the thickness of his cock. She felt her breath catch to look at it, long and hard, just for her. She wanted her hands on it, her mouth on it. She wanted it inside of her pussy. She wanted everything, and she wanted it right this second.

  His thumbs hooked in his boxers and he stepped out of them, leaving his beautiful body gloriously naked. Every inch of him was hard, well-defined muscle, and she got to touch it, kiss it.

  “Shouldn’t we,” she began. Words came to her slowly, making it difficult to form complete sentences. “I mean, bedroom?”

  “And what, miss the opportunity to christen your hallway?” He pushed into her space, and she spread her legs without thinking, letting him rest against her. “I could fuck you right here, against the front door, where anyone might walk by and notice. You want that?”

  She whimpered. Ramona had never whimpered about sex in her life, and here she was, whimpering

  “I ….”

  She still couldn’t find the words.

  “Or I can lay you down on that fancy rug you have in your hallway,” he nodded behind him, were the foyer led into the kitchen. She had a runner going down the length. “We can make it all messy.”

  Even though she had never once considered her foyer a particularly sexy place, she could now see all the possibilities. There was something incredibly arousing about having sex outside of the bedroom. Something … naughty.

  “What if,” she said, finally locating her tongue. “I want to be on top?”

  He chuckled, the sound deep and sexy, making her arousal spike all over again.

  “You want to ride me?” he asked. His hands effortlessly worked the clasp on her bra and cast it away. She worked on her panties without being asked, unable to wait for him to get to them.

  She groaned as she thought about it, about riding him, working herself over on his cock to chase her own pleasure.

  “And if it is?” She sounded crazed and unsteady to her own ears.

  “You want me to lie back and let you straddle me? You want to sheath yourself on my dick?” His voice was a rasp in her ear. “You want it in you as deep as it can go?”

  “Oh God,” she panted. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to breathe. “Oh my God, I want it.”

  Without thinking, she pushed him back, and he gave her that same, reckless grin as he got to his k
nees and then sat back. His cock stood out from his body, and I suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t touched it, and that seemed a terrible shame.

  Oh well. There was always next time.

  Ramona couldn’t believe she was already contemplating a next time.

  Blayze leaned back, his eyes boring into hers, and she straddled his waist. She could feel his hardness bump against her wet pussy, and it made her dizzy with need.

  Some part of her distantly remembered that they needed a condom. “Do you have something?” she asked, barely getting the words out between her numb lips.

  “In my wallet.”

  She scrabbled at his discarded jeans, her fingers feeling suddenly dumb. His wallet was in the back pocket, and there—the condom. When she tore at the packet with her teeth, he groaned.

  She reached for him and slid the condom on slowly, enjoying the feel of his hard cock in her hands, however briefly. But it was more than enough of a delay—as nice as he was to touch, she had other plans for his dick.

  He was still in hand as she repositioned herself over him, and then sank down slowly.

  A moan tore out of her throat. She couldn’t control it. Every inch of him seemed to fill her just right, and it felt so good to have him hot and hard inside of her. She went up on her knees and sank down again. It felt just as exquisite.

  Their teasing had put her close to the edge already, and after only a few moments, she could feel her orgasm building inside of her. She couldn’t decide whether or not to slow down and savor it, or to speed toward it. She wanted it, but she also didn’t want this to be over.

  Blayze made the decision for her. He bucked his hips upward as she came down, and there it was, just beginning to crest. There was going back. She put her hands on his shoulders and began to work herself up and down, up and down, chasing that feeling. Her breasts brushed his bare chest as she moved, and even that tiny bit of contact was electric.

  She screwed her eyes shut. She was nearly there, only a little bit more, and—

  Blayze brushed his fingers over her clit, and her mouth dropped open in a scream. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. All thoughts shut down. The only thing she knew was fulfilled desire and the satisfaction of him inside of her.

  A strong arm circled her, and then she was on her back, Blayze above her. She was still lost in her orgasm, only barely conscious of what was happening, when his hips began to move and flex. God, he was still so hard.

  He went down to one elbow and put his mouth to good use, licking and sucking at her nipple. A fissure of heat went through her. She’d never been one for multiple orgasms, but his thrusts inside of her were sharp and so, so good, and his mouth was hot and his hand was—it was back on her clit, and—

  It was there again, that promise of pleasure. Her muscles clenched pleasantly as it began to build again, a string tightening and tightening inside of her until all of a sudden the tension was too much and it snapped. She snapped. Her vision whited out as she came again, even harder than before.

  Blayze grunted as he felt her reach another climax, and she could hear his harsh breaths. She looked up and saw his eyes, their intent focus on her, working solely to bring her that wonderful feeling. There was something about him that, in that moment, stole her breath just as much as the incredible orgasm had done, only a moment before.

  He was looking at her as if she were somehow…precious.

  Her heart skipped a beat. This was just sex, wasn’t it? Why did she suddenly…feel so much?

  Ramona knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t stop herself. She reached a hand around his neck and brought their faces together in a heated, sloppy kiss. She pulled back just far enough so that she could feel his lips against her own as she said, “Your turn. Come.”

  He whispered her name as he did.

  There was an enthusiastic round two in the bedroom, and then they fell asleep, napping through dinner. Or, Blayze did. Ramona brooded, unable to give into her heavy eyelids. Her brain wouldn’t shut off, her thoughts a jumbled mess that she wasn’t sure she’d ever untangle.

  She’d told herself that any sort of emotional involvement with Blayze was impossible, and that her attraction was purely physical. Now, on the other side of a rather spectacular sexual encounter, she could see how much she had deluded herself, simply because she wanted him. All of him. Not just his body, but his soul and his mind, all his secrets. She wanted everything from him.

  Including more sex, because damn.

  Guilt bubbled up inside of her, despite how happy and sated she knew she should be feeling. It had been four years, but she could still see the headlights of the other car, driving too fast in the wrong lane, Daniel’s face as he lost control, as they hit that tree. He’d used his final seconds to throw his magic at her, keep her safe in a protective bubble, while he’d taken the brunt of the accident.

  He’d died in her arms while they waited for an ambulance.

  There were things about being mortal in a magical world that just, frankly, sucked.

  Daniel had died so that she could live. He’d used his final breath to show her how much he loved her. And when the police hadn’t been able to locate the car that ran them off the road, she’d gone out, got her private investigator’s license, and solved it her damn self.

  She hadn’t sought out new lovers, hadn’t accepted any of the dates she was offered. It always felt like a betrayal. After everything Daniel had done for her…

  “I can hear you thinking from here,” said Blayze.

  Ramona flinched, surprised. She’d been sure he was fast asleep.

  He poked her side. “Come on. We skipped pillow talk earlier, and we’re obviously due. What’s keeping you up at night?”

  She didn’t want to confide in him. Or, more accurately, Ramona found that she really did want that, but she didn’t want to want it. A frown passed over her face. Her thoughts weren’t making sense anymore.

  “You’re the first man I’ve slept with in four years,” she admitted. She regretted the words as they came out of her mouth. This was only building more bridges between them, making them closer, and wasn’t she supposed to loyal to Daniel? Wasn’t she just feeling awful because she wasn’t she was being loyal enough?

  Or was she feeling awful because, despite the fact that she wanted to feel guilty, she mostly felt—kind of happy? Was she guilty of not feeling guilty enough?

  Blayze stiffened beside her, and not in a good way.

  He stroked a soft hand down her side. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head, but her mouth kept talking, anyway. “I was—I was engaged. To a musician. His name was Daniel, and he was a powerful warlock, and so kind and good. Singing was his dream for us, and we were together all the time, and—I don’t know. I’m rambling. But there was an accident, and he died. The last thing he did was save me. So I’ve always felt like I have to…”

  “Honor his memory?”

  Ramona nodded. “Exactly.”

  The dark made this conversation so much easier. She couldn’t possibly say these things to Blayze when she could look directly into his eyes. As it was, she could only make out the vague impression of his face, feel his hand run that soothing line up and down her side.

  “I don’t think he’d want you to live half a life for his sake.”

  The accusation stung. “Not having sex with someone doesn’t constitute half a life. I just don’t want to get involved with someone or pursue anything serious. Is that a crime?”

  Instead of reacting in anger like she would have expected, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Ramona felt tears sting her eyes, but she stubbornly blinked them back.

  “I didn’t mean that. But giving up on singing? And not being love in someone? No flirting, no dates, no fun?” He shrugged. She felt the motion, more than saw it. “You’re young and beautiful and smart and talented—I just don’t think anyone who really loved you would want to lock yourself away in a cage for their sake.”
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br />   The words hit her like a physical blow, and suddenly Ramona wasn’t sure she could successfully hold back those tears any longer if they kept talking. That wasn’t acceptable.

  “Let’s just go back to sleep,” she said.

  “Ramona…”

  “No. Sleep.” She paused, swallowed down the feelings that threatened to take her over. “Please?”

  She felt another kiss against her forehead. “Okay, if you’re sure. Sleep.”

  Chapter Five

  Blayze

  THE SUN POURING THROUGH THE windows awoke Blayze the next morning, and he took a few moments to blink sleepily at the ceiling before he realized it wasn’t his ceiling. It also wasn’t Arryn’s ceiling.

  The previous night came rushing back to him in a flood of memories. The feel of her body against him, her smell, her face when she came.

  Blayze had had plenty of one-night stands and plenty of flings. He’d never been too good at the whole relationship thing. It required too much seriousness and commitment. He’d always stuck to what he knew, and he’d always made sure to find girls who felt the same.

  Ramona was different.

  Oh sure, she said she wanted casual. A fling while they worked together on Joy’s case, and nothing more. Her whispered confessions in the dark, about her dead fiancé and the changes it had brought into her life, the way she’d given up singing and dreams for hard facts and cold cases—he understood why something serious wouldn’t work for her.

  He thought briefly of his own family, lost two decades ago, and the memory still stung so much that he had to push it away forcefully. Death never got any easier to accept.

  Blayze glanced over at Ramona, taking in her sleeping face. She looked peaceful in sleep; far more peaceful than she ever looked while she was awake. She was his opposite in so many ways, hardened and tough where he was always relaxed and smiling.

  Curled on her side, arm thrown across his stomach and head nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder, she was the most beautiful thing Blayze had ever seen.