by Sariah Skye
“Keep saying things like that, and I’ll spill all my secrets with no effort,” I said, and gasped as he suddenly pinched my nipple, before moving to the other one; his forearm still firmly pressed against the former.
“You have secrets?” His tone was light-hearted, and flirty. “Like, other than the fact you named your vibrator Buzz?”
I snorted; probably wasn’t sexy but it was what it was. “Hell, that’s no secret. Buzz Fuck-for-Years was a champ.”
Bash lost control and tossed his head back in laughter, his heavy chest vibrating against my back. “Gives new meaning to the name Toy Story, doesn’t it?”
Boisterously I laughed right into the pillow I was laying on. “I don’t think that’s what Disney had in mind.”
“Probably not,” he agreed, still chuckling. We were laughing joyfully, and before I knew it he’d gently eased me to my back, and whisked my shirt off with one fast, fluid motion. I barely even sat up or noticed it was gone until I was firmly planted under him, my lower body still twisted to the side. He had one hand on either side of my head, and he sucked in the bottom lip of his smirk, eyes roaming my face inquisitively. I didn’t get to question him about his thoughts because he lowered his lips to mine and ensured his control by kissing me so eagerly I felt like floating; only his sculpted chest kept me grounded as the chiseled lines of his pecs grazed over my peaked breasts. Wetness pooled between my legs, and I curled my fingers into the short blond hair at his nape and gripped tightly as the intensity of the kiss grew.
He reluctantly pulled away and I protested only for a split second until he rose upright and threw one of his limber thighs over my waist and shimmied down, straddling my hips, his hands brushing over my sensitive breasts and over my stomach and found the drawstring of the pants. With a coy beckon of his head and playful smirk on his face, he inquisitively and silently asked permission to remove them. I bit my lip and nodded; I knew he was being sensitive to my situation and didn’t want to freak me out. But right now, every pore on my skin was heated, every nerve on fire from my lips to my core; I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more except for him to strip those pants off—well, maybe to strip his own off. Grinning like it was his birthday and he was opening a present, he slid off the bed to the ground, and quickly whisked the offending cotton off, throwing them somewhere to be found later. I breathed in sharply, feeling the draft against my hot skin, but he remedied the situation by rubbing his hands over my legs, tentatively at first, gauging my reaction. No protest here as my head rolled to the side on the pillow, and I instinctively parted my legs to reveal my waiting core and throbbing clit, hoping he was going to figure out some way to ease the tension building there before I exploded. And he did, gently prying my legs further apart and grazing a finger over the damp, swollen folds. I expected him to tease and torment me with his fingers, but his warm breath against my inner thigh said otherwise as he ran the tip of his tongue from my opening to the hood, before seeking the taut bud with his mouth, sucking in deeply before releasing.
I cried out, the sudden pressure sent my body into overdrive, I bucked against him as he slid his hands under my ass to position me better against his mouth. I began to pant rapidly as he worked my clit with his mouth and tongue, gently nibbling, sucking or licking in a seemingly random pattern; just when I had gotten used to one sensation he switched, each new motion a surprise and earning a sensual moan or a pleading cry for him to bring me to release. His eyes were droopy and heavy with lust, those sexy steel blue eyes rimmed with crimson as he watched my reactions from between my legs. When my breathing quickened and became harsh, he stopped, and crawled up my body like a lion on prowl and eagerly sought my mouth in a hot kiss; I could still taste myself on his lips, and I liked it. I liked knowing where he’d just been, liked the sexy, smug grin he wore knowing he had just about brought me to my apex, and torturously stopped.
I gripped his shoulders and lifted my hips, rutting against him, seeking his cock through his soft boxers. “Please…” I scratched my nails down his back, and grabbed his firm ass, beckoning him into me.
His smile was playful as he rose a brow. “On your side, Ava. I told you I’d take care of everything, didn’t I?”
Nodding slightly, I obliged and rolled back onto my side. The bed shifted as he shifted back to his side, but not before slipping off his boxers, freeing his gently up-curved length. My heart slammed into my chest with anticipation as he pressed himself against my back, molding himself against my feminine curves; I felt the head of his cock against the edge of my asscheek as he adjusted himself and I whimpered, desperately needing to feel him inside me, tipping my hips against him.
He brushed my hair down over my neck and twisted it gently, resting it on the pillow as he folded himself into me, trailing his tongue over my shoulder blades, nipping at the back of my neck. A hand again played with my breasts, teasing the nipples, massaging the fullness before he trailed a finger down my ribs, over swooping valley of my hips, and landed firmly on my ass. “Bend into me, Ava,” he instructed in a husky tone, and I wasn’t sure what he meant, my mind was clouded heavily with lust and desire, but he beckoned them into the correct position with a firm hand.
“Sebastian…” I panted, as he set a hand on my thigh, grazing it around to my knee, prompting me to crook my leg slightly. “I…need you. Please…” I don’t recall when I turned into such a pathetic beggar—probably sometime between now and when I first saw him in the club. So much for strong, independent woman. Ha!
I didn’t give a shit.
Needing to take control, needing to feel him fill me full, I reached back, sore shoulder and all, seeking out his firm, velvet length. But he refused, grabbing my hand and placing it on his waist. I glanced over my shoulder and I bit my lip, watching him take himself in his hand, and mold his body into mine, the head of him dangerously near my wet entrance. He glanced up at me teasingly, while he whisked a finger over my clit. I moaned in desperation.
“Just checking,” he said with a wink.
“Evil…” I breathed but choked on my words as he positioned himself in back of me, and slowly began to slide his shaft into me. My moan was wanton and heavy as he slowly worked himself inside; I felt him tense and shudder with each motion until he was securely inside. The backwards entry made for a surprising, deeper sensation and my eyes rolled back into my head when I was fully impaled, and he urged me to lower my leg.
“Oh god…” I hissed, feeling everything more fully, tighter as I clenched around him, needing to feel him in me and not let go.
“Shit…” he said, his voice little more than a rasp. He began to work his hips, burying himself to the hilt and slowly out again, building the tension beautifully. He folded the rest of himself around me, sliding one arm under my body, the other firmly on my hip, to keep me securely against him. He buried his face in my neck, nipping with his teeth and licking and kissing gently. I was totally encapsulated in all things Bash, and whatever it was I was freaked about? Gone. All I could feel was his warm body against mine, the dampness of his skin, his scent magnified and the pressure ebb and grow as he moved inside of me. I could shimmy somewhat, but being the clod I was, I wasn’t really great at keeping a rhythm. But I did try to move with him, not that I needed to. He was doing just fine on his own, and while I felt slightly badly he was doing all the work, a bigger part of me just enjoyed it, being wrapped up safely and cared for in the most intimate of levels. Bash’s heart slamming against his chest and his rapid breath on my neck indicated that he was enjoying it too.
“Sebastian?” I said, rolling my upper body to get a glimpse of his face.
His heavy lids opened. “Hmm?” he asked.
“I love you,” I said earnestly.
“I love you, Ava.” Bash covered my mouth with his, a series of fevered, languid kisses. His motions became stronger, more intent as he crashed himself into me, over and over. Our kiss broke when I let out the longest of moans, causing Bash to shiver. When the room began to
spin, and my vision clouded, the tension inside ebbed and fought for release. I bit my lip, watching Bash’s controlled expression turn feral, his thrusting more adamant. I lifted a hand and pulled his face down to mine, anxious to watch him when he came, and he was close.
I gasped, crying out loudly, the sudden intensity of orgasm completely catching me off guard. Bash slid his hand down and began to finger my clit massaging the sensitive bud and the waves of orgasm increased, crashing into me like a tidal wave. My breath caught, and I released one long, pleasured noise and my inner walls clenched tightly around him. His head rolled back and he thrusted hard, gripping my hips and pressing himself into me as hard as he could, eyes squinted shut as he trembled, reaching his own climax. I still gripped him and he moaned with each movement, riding through his release.
I glanced around, the familiar misty explosions and heady air spinning around us, that thin golden string binding us together. I smiled at its familiar presence. Once dreaded, it now reminded me of something more, something intense. Love. Home. Safety.
Bash’s face was buried in my neck as he twitched, the last waves of orgasm pushing him over the edge until he slumped against me, completely spent. The world spun around us out of control as my breathing turned back to normal slowly.
“Fuck…” Bash finally said, with a throaty laugh. “Man, I needed that.”
I grinned, and rolled myself totally over, releasing my hold on him and letting him envelop me with his arms. He pulled the blankets over us, despite the fact that we were hot and sweaty; I was thankful because as I came down from the orgasmic high, I began to feel chilled. He draped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in tightly. Placing a kiss on the center of my forehead, he asked, “You okay, babe?”
I smiled into his chest. “Never better.”
He didn’t respond; just wrapped us up tight in his blankets and we relaxed, safe and sated in each other’s arms, and entered a dreamless, satisfied slumber.
Chapter Seventeen
Xander
After doing damage control at the club, it was a late night—or early morning, depending upon how you looked at it—when we arrived home.
We tried to pass the big “lightning show” off as some sort of publicity stunt. It seemed to work, when I checked the social media page Mathias had set up on the Stargazer while we were driving home in his Suburban, there was comment after comment about how amazing it was, how they couldn’t wait to come back. But, they were a bit pissed that there was only one restroom. That made me chuckle hard. If they only knew. Other than me regaling the comments to Mathias as he drove the distance between Downtown Minneapolis and Wild, we were basically silent; not sure what to make out of anything. Not wanting to admit how we royally fucked the hell up.
Ava had gotten attacked, and it was our fault. Then again, it was hard to tame a wild heart, and we couldn’t watch Ava wherever she went. Though we sure were going to try. Because the alternative was feeling helpless…
Hmm, I think I understood why Ava hated it so much.
There was also the unspoken elephant in the room: Bash’s new mysterious ability. What the fuck was that? And…how? I had a million questions for the ass when we got home. But, he would probably be sleeping or doing… other things. Like I would be doing if I were him.
Trystan had pulled up in the driveway on Bash’s bike only moments after Mathias and I did. Bash would have been long ahead of us, but Trystan for all his talk was a big chicken-shit and actually was fairly cautious on the bike. He claimed he didn’t want to get his ass beaten by Bash if he wrecked it. Whatever, dude. I knew better.
Everything was quiet when we entered the house. Rhys was asleep on the couch with the dogs, watching a movie that had long since ended; the menu screen frozen on display. Sierra and Rocky were asleep against the window on the front wall, the pups were slumped on Rhys, and Percy was on the floor. I had to grin; he acted like he hated them so much but he didn’t. He didn’t seem like such a bad guy when he wasn’t trying to peep at us getting it on with Ava at inopportune times. The dogs perked, though, when Trystan entered, and Frankie and Percy followed him into his bedroom where he disappeared, claiming to of had too much fun for one night.
Mathias was in the kitchen; he’d been brutally silent since our shoving match earlier. He was grumbling though about a mess in the kitchen. Apparently, Rhys had tried to make Ava’s macaroni and cheese; water and spilled noodles and cheese powder were everywhere. I cringed at the thought of a mess, but I didn’t dare interfere with Mathias’ kitchen. Instead I grumbled a quick good-night and slipped into the laundry room downstairs.
“Sonofabitch.” The dryer was probably malfunctioning; two cycles and Ava’s blankets from her bed this morning was still damp. Sighing, I put them on for another cycle and went upstairs, reminding myself to tell Bash about it later. I thought about stopping into his room. He was usually awake, his nightmares usually plagued him all night. They were better since Avie arrived, but still there were moments I knew they got the best of him. When I paused outside his door, though, I heard moans and heavy breathing; I didn’t think my presence would be too welcome. By Bash, at least. But goddammit if I wasn’t just a little turned on… for some reason.
I’d been a jealous fucking asshole; I knew it. It was stupid, but… it was what it was. I’d get passed it though. I didn’t want to deny my friends happiness, nor did I want to pass on it myself. If any two people deserved to get fucked in this house tonight, it was the two of them. So I slipped on by and went straight to my room, where I attempted to sleep restlessly for the next couple hours.
I didn’t know why I was so obsessively-compulsive about goddamn cleaning. It was probably because all those years we spent sleeping on streets, under dirty bridges or ditches or even from our own home back in China. The smell of sewage and dirt, and the grimy feel of not bathing for days—weeks, rather—still permeated my nose even after all those years. The fucking Depression really killed us. Before that, with the assistance of Thomas Alexander, who set me up well, I made a killing at the prohibition style speakeasy. Wine, women, decadent food and—as much as I hated to admit it—fucking sweet hats and suits, that was the life. Bash came into my world shortly after the turn of the century and aside from the crap of being an incubus, things were decent. We ran the speakeasy together. We fought in the wars together, wanting to help humanity but in doing so—we lost everything. We would have anyway; most people did. Afterward I received word that Thomas was dead, and we were left—rather, I was left—the property in Wild. It gave us an opportunity to start anew. We built it all into what it was today and I was quite damn proud of that.
But until those sheets were finished, I couldn’t sleep or relax. If I were still human, I’d probably take a pill and get rid of the symptoms, but being a fucking incubus and some sort of “storm ninja” as Avie affectionately coined it, traditional medication didn’t touch me. Bash had made some things for me over the years that worked okay, but mostly I just went with it. These guys were fucking pigs—especially Trystan, that goddamned eagle bastard—and they needed someone to pick up after them. I had no choice. At least that’s what I told myself.
Around 6 A.M. after no sleep, I went downstairs to check on Ava’s bedding; it was finally finished. I carried the heaps of blankets and comforter up the flights of stairs to her room, let myself in, and set everything at the foot of the bed so I could untangle everything and re-make the bed she and I tore up earlier. Yes, it gave me great pleasure to think that, dammit. We made love twice and ruined the bedsheets. Okay, I did. What the fuck ever. I didn’t even mind when that bastard Bash came in and ruined our snuggle time. I really didn’t think he was a bastard; we’d always exchanged insults as part of our camaraderie. Male posturing bullshit or something, I was sure. He was my brother in every sense of the word, even more than my blood brothers growing up; I was just being a prick. A right damn, selfish piyan. I had my day with Ava, I wasn’t going to hold her to it, I was just thrilled she care
d enough to offer. I was just pissy; Mathias claimed it was because I wasn’t old enough to “give up all hope of a normal life.” I supposed he wasn’t wrong. Stupidly, I clung to basic human notions of falling in love, getting married, moving into a house with a white-picket fence, having children, and growing old with someone.
I supposed they weren’t so stupid after all, maybe. Maybe. Could you have a wedding with four husbands? Could Ava even have children—or would she even want to? Four guys, four times being pregnant. At least. Even I shuddered at the thought. Ava was tough, but damn, it’d be a lot to ask her to go through that. Some women did it happily but I wasn’t sure if Ava would be one of those. Something told me she’d give us all hell for it, and the notion made me grin for many reasons.
But there was no point in thinking about that now.
Sighing away my thoughts, I groaned slowly, feeling tired and groggy, and untangled the fitted sheet and started to fit and smooth it over Ava’s memory foam mattress.
I paused suddenly, convinced I’d seen a flash out of the corner of my eye. Like headlights coming through the window, but that was impossible; there was no road for miles, no way one of the guys’ cars could be seen from here. I shrugged, not thinking much of it when I heard a very faint, faraway and familiar noise.
“Ava? Are you there?”
Swiveling around, I gasped. The piece of the Round Table that opened the portal to Camelot shimmered. I darted quickly, nearly tripping over a dog in the middle of the floor and just about crashed into the wall. “Lachlan?”
The piece of wood twisted and warbled, and a faint image of Lachlan Steele appeared. The spitting, masculine image of Ava seemed rough, but no worse for the wear.