Freeing him.
“Yehhh shhhot mmmee,” he said dumbly, the words an effort to get out of his rubbery lips.
Blue eyes widening, she pulled the trigger again, but it was a one-shot deal. Her feet did a quick two-step as she decided what to do. A glance went to the sky, but then she pushed off and ran. She was like a deer, feminine and fleet of foot.
Scythe’s muscles were functioning again, but they weren’t functioning together. His coordination was out-of-sync as he took off after her. His heavy shitkicker boots thudded against the dew-slickened grass. His knees wobbled, but his scythe acted as a walking stick. He might be staggering, but he was gaining on her.
She was headed back to the house, her too-long skirt flapping against her shins. Her legs pumped fast, and for a moment it looked as if she might make it past the oak tree and to the side door where he’d left the food.
Not if he had anything to say about it.
Determination beat coordination. Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, he finally got close enough to cheat. Flipping the scythe upside down, he swept the long handle at her feet. The impact wasn’t hard, but he managed to trip her. She tumbled down, knees first, and then onto her hands.
Her squeak of pain gave him an ounce of regret. He’d already patched those knees up once, and he hadn’t meant to hurt her.
But the gutsy little minx had shot him.
Like a wolf on prey, he came down atop her, trapping her with his weight.
She tried to scramble away, pushing into the earth and straightening her limbs. She was fit, but he was bigger and stronger. And he liked the way her body ground against his. Wrestling her back down, he trapped her on all fours. With her knees and arms bent, she huddled underneath him like a turtle curling inwards to protect itself.
“I told you to stay away from me,” he growled into her ear.
“Me? This is my property. You came here.”
Okay, technically she was right. Philosophically, she was wrong. He wasn’t sure which philosophy that was, but she’d ventured onto the wrong side of Newcropolis, putting herself in danger. He didn’t like that. He didn’t like it one bit, and that gave him the right to come here to stop her from doing it again.
He shook his head. The electricity must have shorted out his brain synapses too.
Or maybe it was the way her butt was moving against him.
True to her nature, she was still fighting him. As Luminescence, he would have expected it, but tucked underneath him was Luna Masters. Timid, quiet Luna. Feeling her rebel stirred something inside him. In her too-big, ugly suit with those responsible flat heels, she’d had the audacity to hunt him down in the darkness and taser him.
His cock swelled against her soft curves. As much as the electricity had tried to immobilize him, that was one part of his body functioning just fine.
“What were you doing on the south side, Luna?”
She jerked a bit at the sound of her name. “None of your business.”
“Sorry, I saved your life yesterday. Some would say that makes me responsible for you.”
She snorted. Actually had the audacity to laugh at him. “You’re not responsible for yourself, Scythe. You put people in the hospital and feel no repercussions.”
That wasn’t true, not in every case, but she wouldn’t understand that. She believed in truth and justice, black versus white. He viewed the world in shades of dark gray. The two of them would never see things the same way.
“Leave RJ Tyson alone,” he hissed. “Just go to the trial and type down the words everyone says like a good girl.”
She bucked again, trying to get him off her. The motion ground her ass right against his zipper, and Scythe bit the side of his cheek to keep from groaning aloud. Grabbing her knees, he pulled them out from underneath her, spreading her flat beneath him.
Her beige skirt bunched around her thighs, and her suit jacket was already pulled off one shoulder. It appeared as if her clothes were trying to work their way off her. He might as well help them along.
Sliding his thumb under the tab at her waist, he undid the hook. The material loosened, and he took hold of the zipper that ran down the back of her skirt. Her head whipped around when she heard the sound of metal disengaging from metal.
“Scythe.”
He pulled the skirt down, working it under her knees and off her. He tossed it aside. He liked the sound of his name on her lips. He wanted to hear her screaming it.
“What did I tell you about going out at night?” He began tugging at her jacket. She tugged back, and there was the sound of hideous beige material tearing. He tossed a sleeve aside. “What did I say?”
“I didn’t go out, relying on my powers. I was in my car, protected at all times.”
“Not good enough.” He nipped at her ear. Strands of blonde hair had slipped from her bun, and they got caught in his five o’clock shadow. Once again, light versus dark. Softness versus gruffness. They weren’t meant to go together.
But it felt so damn good when they did.
He soothed the sting on her earlobe with a kiss. Surprised, she went still. It gave him the chance to pull her suit jacket off her other shoulder. Once it got that far, it wasn’t difficult to slide off her arm and throw it away forever.
She turned her head away, and her voice went quiet. “I tried, but I can’t find a partner.”
He went motionless above her. Good, he thought possessively. Territorially.
Yet she seemed upset.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I’m too low-level. My powers aren’t considered significant.”
“Bullshit.” He’d felt the power that could sweep through her. Literal power. It had lit him up from the inside, and when the full moon was out, she could light up an entire block. Nothing pushed back crime, ugliness and darkness like the exposure of light. This woman didn’t just have tricks and gadgets.
She was special.
Her head turned again, this time towards him. The expression on her face was suspicious, though, rather than appreciative.
Planting his hands on both sides of her, he leaned closer. He had her trapped against the earth and damp grass, his body pressed hot and tight atop her. He had her attention.
“You have powers, baby. Actual magic.” He held her blue gaze. “I have a big knife. That’s it. I’m strong and I’m fast, but my bite is in my blade.”
Her breath hitched. “But I thought…”
He shook his head, even when he knew he shouldn’t. In their world, it was suicide to discuss their powers, their strengths and their weaknesses—especially with someone on the other side of the battle line. Gossip and innuendo worked better. Reputations could be built. Mythology could be enhanced.
Other than his true identity, he was telling her the biggest secret about the man everyone knew as Scythe.
Her gaze went to the long wooden handle he always kept within reach. Following it upwards, she evaluated the blade that curved, long and lethal, in the grass over her head. “But the Blade of Etna…”
“It’s real, and I’ve spent years honing my skills on how to use it.” In fact, it was how he’d gotten over the stone wall that surrounded her property. He’d just hooked the blade over the tip of the wall and climbed the handle like a drain spout.
“I’ve led a hard life,” he said, “but anyone could do it.”
She didn’t shy away or show any disappointment. If anything, the expression on her face brightened. “You had to work harder.”
He inhaled deeply, smelling the grass and her perfume. “Just don’t go telling me that you’re too low-level.” He stroked his hand down her flank and then back up to her bottom. “What’s wrong with all your good-guy teammates? Are they blind?”
He certainly wasn’t. Without the skirt and the jacket, she was left in a bra, a camisole and panties. His thumb rubbed over the tight curve of her ass. Make that a thong. Underneath all that frumpy outerwear, he’d found the true Luna. The woman
was made for sex.
He fisted his hand in the white camisole. He liked it. He liked the whole little combo, but it had to go. He grabbed his scythe.
She jerked underneath him. “No!”
“Lie still.”
The blade was razor sharp and nearly three feet long but, as he’d told her, he’d spent years mastering it. He could carve his name on a twig if challenged, but this use was much more enjoyable. With a careful swipe, he dragged the tip of the blade down her body, slicing the camisole in half, severing her bra, and finally plucking the thin band of her thong.
Her clothes slid off her, and she was naked for him once again.
He set the scythe aside, out of her reach. “You disobeyed me,” he whispered.
Her fingers dug into the grass. “You don’t own me.”
He wanted to.
He caught the tie that bound her hair. He would have cut it with the scythe, but he hadn’t wanted to risk cutting even one strand of that gorgeous hair. He pulled the stretchy band open wide and flicked it aside. Like a waterfall, her hair slid down around her shoulders and onto her back.
Something close to a purr bubbled up inside his throat.
Using his fingers, he combed through the silky waves. Deliberately, almost obsessively, he fanned her hair over her back and across her arms. He’d have given just about anything to strip down so he could feel all that lusciousness, sliding cool and soft against his chest, but it wasn’t meant to be.
As much as they’d confided in each other, they weren’t friends. They weren’t even really lovers.
They were sex partners, two people from opposing sides who couldn’t fight the power of the forbidden.
So instead of ripping off his clothes and getting naked with her, he simply undid his zipper. Pushing his jeans down to his knees, he climbed atop her.
And entered her from behind.
Sweet mother of everything evil and holy.
His jaw tightened until it nearly popped. He hadn’t dreamed up a thing about last night. Her pussy was hot and so damn tight. From this angle, he could go deeper, and there was nothing restraining her hips. Sliding a hand underneath her belly, he lifted her up snug against him.
She let out a guilty hum of pleasure.
He pushed his cock deep into her wet heat and swiveled his hips, grinding hard. Her hum went up nearly an octave.
Oh yeah. Forbidden fruit was sweeter.
Finally, he had to move. He had to pump. He had to feel her grip and caress him. He had to fuck her.
Bracing himself on one hand, he leaned over her and began to thrust, firm and steady. She kept her hips tilted up for him, allowing a smooth slide into her, but the rest of her was splayed long and lean on her stomach.
Night dew was already collecting, and Scythe felt the knees of his jeans become damp. He hovered over her, his cape spreading around them and hiding the lascivious things they were doing. Luna’s fingers clutched the long blades of grass, nearly pulling them out by the root as she took him. Harsh breaths panted from her lips, but her body lay pliant and accepting. That didn’t mean she was submissive. Her hips jerked whenever he touched her deep inside where she liked. She’d kicked off her shoes, and her toes were digging into the dirt for traction. When he gave her a quick slap on the ass, her leg bent at the knee and her foot swung up into the air, her toes pointing at the stars.
“Oh God,” she cried.
He wanted to feel her. He wanted skin on skin, and the fact that he couldn’t have it was driving him a little mad. He wedged a hand underneath her, wanting to cup her breast, but the soft globe was pressed nearly flat against the ground. The poor thing was rubbing against the grass, trying to use the prickles of the blades for satisfaction.
Scythe quickly gave them what they both wanted.
Keeping her tight against him, he rolled them over.
She let out a cry when she found herself spread out atop him, lying on her back but still fully penetrated. Catching her thighs, he spread them wider until he could press his knees between hers. Planting his boots flat, he began swinging his hips upwards.
This time, she was the one who went a little crazy. She squirmed in pleasure, her butt pressing into his belly and her shoulders digging into his chest. When her back arched, his hands were there to take her breasts.
Her beautiful, full, jiggling breasts. Her nipples pointed straight up at the dark sky, and he wished the moon were out. He’d love to see that glow come over her skin, lighting up everything around them. He settled for squeezing the tender globes and rubbing her nipples.
“Scythe,” she whimpered. “I don’t know if I can stand it.”
He buried his face in her soft hair. “Sure you can, lightness. You’re grabbing me like a fist.”
And she was. He was the one who didn’t know how much longer he could bear it. He was about to blow his load.
She moaned and wriggled, then began to struggle. Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed his weapon. She tried to sit upright and groaned as the position changed the angle of his thrusts. His cock went deeper, harder into her.
He swung the handle of the scythe in front of her, barring her from going any farther. It was good, so damn right. He didn’t know what was happening between them, but she had to trust it. Using his superior strength, he slowly pulled her back to him. His thrusts were going faster, and his breaths were jagged. Restraining her like a safety bar on an amusement park ride, he held her against him.
“Play with yourself,” he ordered.
“Mmm.” Her hand stroked down her stomach.
He inhaled deeply of her hair and watched over her shoulder as she parted her lower lips. Her fingers plucked and rubbed, circled and tugged. When she reached down farther and touched the place where he was pounding into her, though, it meant the end.
The feel of those soft fingertips against his cock?
He started coming, spurting as he thrust and hitched.
“Oh!” she gasped. “Oooooohhhhh!”
Letting go of the scythe he’d been holding against her, he plunged his hand down to join hers. Their fingers tangled and wetted.
“Scythe?”
“Luna.”
They clutched each other’s hands as they both went over the edge, slamming headfirst into pleasure. Light drifted across them, sweeping over the old oak tree, the quiet water fountain, and finally their two supine forms. Scythe waited for her skin to glow.
Only it was too bright.
Opening his eyes, he realized the light was coming from the headlights of a car driving down the road outside the fence. Protectively, he swept his cape from underneath him so it covered both of them. Then, collapsing back against the cool earth, he tried to catch his breath.
“I can’t believe you shot me,” he said. “As Luna.”
“I tasered you. You were trespassing.” She waited a beat. “Still are.”
He lifted his hips suggestively. “Don’t I know it.”
“Oh, stop.” Her hand settled against his hip. “I need to recover first.”
First.
He liked that word, because it meant there would be a second and maybe a third.
A light swept over the grounds, this time going in reverse. With it, Scythe’s head came up. A car was driving past. Again.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You don’t get much traffic out here, do you?”
“What?” Her head lifted too. “No, not really.”
He didn’t think so. In an affluent neighborhood like this, one didn’t expect midnight raves or unannounced nighttime visitors.
Carefully, he disconnected their bodies. “Get dressed.”
Her eyes narrowed as she watched the street. “I can’t. You destroyed all my clothes.”
He took off his cape and handed it to her. It dwarfed her the moment she put it on, but it covered all that beautiful, light skin. After hopping to his feet, Scythe zipped his jeans. He was already blending with the shadows, covered from head to toe in
black. Grabbing his weapon, he pulled her to the fence.
It wasn’t long before a car came cruising slowly by.
It was casing the joint, searching for weaknesses. He waited until the taillights of the car disappeared, before leaning down and pressing his mouth against her ear. “We need to get to cover. Take me inside your home.”
After what they’d just done, it shouldn’t have been such a huge request.
But it was.
She looked up at him, eyes wide. At the core of it, they were still enemies. Her home was her fortress against him.
“Why?” she asked bluntly. “Is it RJ?”
It was time she learned the hard truth.
“Worse. It’s Senator Durbin.”
Chapter Five
Luna led Scythe to the side door where he’d left the basket. He loomed over her, rushing her along, but it was strange letting him into her house. They weren’t friends, and they weren’t dating. She wasn’t inviting him in for coffee. For heaven’s sake, she’d just attacked him. He was the bad guy.
And he’d attacked her right back. Sexily, dominantly…
She burrowed deeper into his cape, wearing it like a cloak. She felt like she was wearing his letter jacket or something, but it was the only protection she had. He’d shredded everything else she’d had on, yet in the ultimate of ironies, she was now opening her home to him. This was the one place where she could let go of everything and just be herself. Not Luminescence and not the mousey court reporter, but Luna.
This house was her haven.
His hand settled on her waist, and he pushed her inside. Closing the door behind them, he locked them in. Ignoring her, he moved to the front window of the sitting room and pulled back the shade.
Her fingers fisted in the cape’s dark material, uncomfortably aware she was naked underneath it. He may have just screwed her silly, but she needed to get her brain functioning again. Something was wrong. She’d responded like a meek child to his orders, but she hadn’t seen any threats. Other than him. She was good at reading body language, though, and he was on the defense.
“What do you mean, it was Senator Durbin?”
Blade of Moonlight: Midnight Justice Page 5