Heat of the Night

by Sylvia Day

  She sighed. Connor was ultra-hot. The finest looking man she’d ever met. As perfect as the rear view was, it barely kept up with the front view. Where were his flaws? His inability to talk about his feelings? Hell, she didn’t like flowery speech. Honesty was more of a turn-on for her than pretty phrases.

  Connor reached her bed, turned to face her, and caught her up in his big brawny arms.

  She loved the feeling of being small. Of being protected and cherished.

  “That was hot,” he rumbled.

  “Hmm?” Her eyes closed as she relished the feel of his hard body against hers. The light dusting of hair on his chest tickled her nipples and the smell of his skin, undiluted by her bath soap, did crazy things to her heart rate.

  “Feeling you watching me.”

  “You’re gorgeous,” she breathed, raising her lids just enough to see him.

  “Before today, I considered my looks a convenience to getting laid.”

  Stacey laughed softly, appreciating how bluntly open he was. “I’m sure it has been.”

  His firm lips nuzzled against her temple. “Now, I’m grateful my looks are the kind you like.”

  “Oh yes.” She nipped at his chin with her teeth. “I like.”

  Connor spun abruptly and tossed her onto the coverlet. She bounced with a squeal and then he was on her, crawling over her in a cage of hard, luscious masculinity. He started with a lick between her toes, then pressed a kiss to her ankle, then lifted her leg and nibbled in the hollow behind her knee. It tickled and she laughed.

  “That giggle of yours makes me hot,” he rumbled, pausing to stare at her.

  Rolling her eyes, Stacey pointed out, “Everything makes you hot. You’re a sex machine.”

  “Oh yeah?” He gripped her inner thighs and spread her legs open, exposing her to his gaze. “I distinctly remember attempting to call a cab when you attacked me and demanded sex.”

  “After you badgered me into it!” She bit back a laugh when he arched a brow at her. She was amazed she was even capable of conversation with him poised above her pussy with a wolfish gleam in his eyes. Thing was, she’d never been silly in bed before. She liked it.

  “How does your saying to me, ‘You’re not getting out of this now’ constitute badgering?”

  “The badgering came before that.”

  Connor snorted. “I’ve never badgered a woman for sex in my life.”

  “You also didn’t fight when I gave in,” she argued, sticking her tongue out playfully.

  His aqua gaze darkened and heated at the sight. “Gave in?” he scoffed. “I’m a guy, sweetheart. Throw gorgeous pussy at us and we’re not going to say no.”

  Her mouth fell open on a choked laugh. “I did not throw my pussy at you.”

  “Umm…yeah.” He winked. Added in combination with his boyishly charming smile, it was devastating to a woman’s equilibrium. “You did. Nymphomaniac. Jees, can’t get a break around this place. Sex last night. Sex again today. Sex right now…” He sighed dramatically.

  “Oh, far be it from me to fuck you to death,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Let’s just go eat pie.”

  Connor stuck his lower lip out in a mock pout. “I was going to eat something else.”

  Considering where he was, she got the idea. “Nah. That’s okay. This nymphomaniac is amazingly not in the mood for sex anymore.”

  A total bald-faced lie. She was slick and swollen. When he glanced down skeptically and then grinned, she knew he could see it.

  “I can put you in the mood,” he purred.

  “Puh-leaze.” She faked a yawn.

  His low growl made her laugh.

  “You’re going to pay for that,” he threatened, tickling her.

  “Ah! Stop it!” She tried to roll away from him and succeeded only in ending up on her stomach, a distinct advantage for him.

  He came over her immediately, laughing. Laughing. His lips to her ear, he said, “I’m going to make you beg me for it.”

  Stacey shivered with anticipation. “I’d like to see you try.” Boy, would she ever!

  “No trying involved, sweetheart.” He licked the shell of her ear, then dipped inside. She grew hotter, wetter. As if he knew, he pushed his big hand between her legs and stroked her. “Yum,” he said. “Someone’s horny already.”

  “Not me.” She gasped as he found her clit and rubbed in gentle circles.

  He hummed a skeptical noise and she buried her smile in her pillow. She felt him move, felt the bed dip and sway, and then his tongue, hot and rough coursing the length of her spine. She gasped and writhed, the sensation both ticklish and arousing. Connor pinned her hips still and licked in the dimple at the small of her back. “Stop wiggling,” he ordered.

  “I was hoping you’d move so I could get up and get some pie.”

  Connor grumbled something and bit her butt cheek. Then he rolled her over, angled his cock down, and pushed inside her.

  Stacey whimpered and arched upward. God, it felt so damn good. He was huge everywhere, even there, and the sensation of being stretched to her limits was incredible. He planted his hands on either side of her head and glared down at her. It was an intimidating picture he made, but the warm amusement in his eyes belied the tough image.

  “So deliciously tiiiggghhhttt…” he said, rolling his hips into her. “I can do this all day.”

  She gasped when he flexed inside her. “You might be able to talk me into that.”

  He pulled out slowly, then returned in a long torturous glide. “I thought you wanted pie.”

  “Umm…I changed my mind.”

  Connor pumped out and then in again. As he fucked her slow and with such skill, her eyes slid closed on a low moan. He reared up and kneeled, draping her legs over his muscular thighs, rocking back and forth. The thick head of his cock rubbed inside her, stroking across a bundle of nerves that made her nipples tighten and stab into the air. He struck hard and she cried out as he found the end of her, the mixture of pleasure and pain curling her toes.

  “You’re so deep,” she slurred, cupping her breasts to ease their swollen ache.

  “I want to get deeper.” His abdomen laced tight as he grabbed her hips and plunged to the root, grinding against her. He was thicker at the base, which caused her clit to tilt downward and catch added friction.

  “Connor!” Her head thrashed in near delirium, unable to bear the depth and leisurely pace of his fucking. It was unbelievably good. Impossibly good. A few more strokes like that and she was going to have the orgasm of her life. “Yes…um, yes…”

  He pulled free and slipped off the bed.

  Stacey struggled up onto her elbows and gaped at him. “Where are you going?”

  He looked over his shoulder and blinked innocently. “I’m going to get you some pie. You said you wanted some.”

  “Y-you…w-what…now…?”

  “I wouldn’t want to force you into sex or anything.”

  “Get back here!”

  He grinned and paused at the door, lounging insolently into the jamb. Buck-assed naked with a full raging hard-on, he made a stunning picture. “Nympho,” he teased.

  “Come on!” she cajoled impatiently. “Please.”

  “Was that begging?”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Get. Over. Here. Now.”

  He crossed his arms and studied her intently. “What will you do when I’m gone and you’re horny?”

  “Play with myself,” she said easily. “But that’s not nearly as much fun as playing with you and you’re here.”

  “Do it,” he urged, his hot gaze dropping to her lewdly spread legs. “I want to watch.”

  She considered that a long moment, watching him watching her. The way his lips parted and his breathing sped up told her the idea of witnessing her masturbating turned him on.

  “Will you jack off to this memory when you’re away?” she asked, pushing her splayed fingers through the damp curls of her sex.

  Connor licked his lips and too
k himself in hand. “I’m ready to jack off to it now.”

  The pads of her fingers rested over her engorged clit and she rubbed in languid circles, shivering from both the lack of his body heat and her building arousal. She’d need a faster pace to reach orgasm, but that wasn’t the point of the exercise. The point was to get Connor in a rut, so he’d come back and finish what he started. She moaned and his entire body jerked.

  “Fuck,” he rasped, straightening.

  “Oh!” Her neck arched back, thrusting her breasts into the air. She rubbed harder and a little faster, reaching lower to gather the slickness at the slit of her pussy, then rising up to lubricate her motions.

  Then his fingers were there, pushing inside her, thrusting. Fucking. She was panting, twisting and he was standing there next to her. His gorgeous face flushed, his jaw taut, his irises swallowed by dilated pupils. His attention was between her legs, where he was fingering her expertly, where she was fondling herself franticly. His cock was hard as stone, the tip an angry red and glistening with the semen that leaked from the tiny hole.

  “Let me suck you,” she begged, her mouth watering at the thought.

  With a rough, edgy sound Connor returned to the bed, lying lengthwise, his cock by her mouth, her pussy at his chest. They rolled until they faced one another, their heights so disparate, but perfect for this.

  Stacey gripped his magnificent cock with two hands and angled it down to her waiting mouth. Her tongue touched the hot tip and he cursed viciously but didn’t lose the rhythm of his fingers. He added his callused thumb to the mix, manipulating her clit with just the right pressure to set her off.

  She climaxed with a muffled cry, her mouth full, her tongue fluttering rapidly over the sensitive spot just beneath the crown of his cock. He roared her name, coming hard, hips bucking in his orgasmic frenzy. Stacey took it all, every drop, sucking deeply with hollowing cheeks, drinking him down with open-throated delight.

  “No more, sweetheart,” he murmured huskily. “You’re killing me.”

  Stacey released him only when he pushed her head weakly away. He curled around and joined her, wrapping her in his arms and tossing a leg over both of hers.

  Feeling cherished, she set her cheek next to his madly racing heart and fell asleep.

  Chapter 11

  It took a moment for Connor to realize what woke him. He was fully alert and sliding away from Stacey’s warm body when it registered—footsteps approaching the front door. The window behind the scrolled wrought iron headboard overlooked the far end of the porch, and he pushed aside the sheer black curtain and peeked between the shutters.

  Aidan and Lyssa were ascending the short stairs.

  Cursing under his breath, he turned around and reached for his pants.

  “Who is it?” Stacey asked in a sleep-husky rasp.

  “Mom and Dad,” he muttered.

  “Huh? Oh…Ugh.” She sat up, looking tousled and well fucked—kiss-swollen lips, pink cheeks, rosy skin. “Do you think telling them to mind their own business will work?”

  “It damn well better.” He zipped up and held out a hand to her. Tugging her from the bed, he ran a quick admiring glance down the length of her body, cupped a swaying breast, and kissed her passionately. “You get dressed. I’ll get the door.”

  He turned away and she swatted him on the ass. “Yes, sir.”

  Tossing a mock glare over his shoulder, Connor left the bedroom, traversed the hall, and unlocked the front door.

  Aidan took one look at his bare chest and feet, and scowled. “Asshole.”

  “Shithead,” Connor retorted.

  “I take no responsibility for him,” Aidan said to Lyssa. “He fucks up, it’s not my fault.”

  She patted his arm. “Calm down, honey.”

  Connor smiled at Lyssa. “Hi.”

  Her returning smile was just as sweet as she was. “Hi. I smell apple pie.”

  Laughing, Connor stepped back, pulling the door open wide. It was late afternoon, the hour when the sky was more orange than blue and the hottest part of the day was behind them. “I’m sure Stacey will be slicing it up soon. She’s been talking about that pie all day.”

  “Have you moved in now?” Aidan snapped.

  “Dude.” Connor shook his head. “You need to get laid or take vitamins or something.”

  “He doesn’t need to get laid,” Lyssa assured, grinning.

  “Yes, I do,” Aidan argued, “and if you blow it for me, Bruce, I’m kicking your ass.”

  “Wow.” Both of Connor’s brows rose. “You must really have it going on, Lyssa. He’s awfully anxious about pissing you off.”

  She offered a saucy shrug. “What can I say?”

  “Hey, Doc.” Stacey entered the living room from the hallway. “Want some apple pie?”

  “Told ya,” Connor said.

  “Can we talk, Bruce?” Aidan said tightly, gesturing toward the front door.

  “I don’t know. Can we?” Connor set his hands on his hips. “You don’t look capable of talking. You look like you want to bitch.”

  Aidan stood there for a moment, still and tense. Then a faint hint of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Please.”

  “Aw, alright.”

  “Want me to cut you a slice?” Stacey called after him.

  “Hell, yeah.” He winked at her. “I want to try some of that pie-that’s-better-than-sex.”

  “I didn’t say that!” she protested, blushing.

  “You must really not have it going on,” Aidan ribbed. “Stace’s pie is good, but it’s not that good.”

  “Watch it.”

  Aidan’s laughter followed Connor out the screen door and onto the porch. Moving to stand at the railing, Connor said, “Before you get started, my sex life is none of your damn business.”

  “We’ll debate that later. Right now I gotta tell you about what happened when I woke up.”

  There was excitement in Aidan’s voice, which caught and held Connor’s attention. “Yeah?”

  “I found a letter I wrote to myself.”

  Connor blinked. “O-kay…”

  “While I was sleeping.”

  “Wager.” Admiration filled Connor at the thought. The lieutenant was wily and resourceful, two traits that any officer would appreciate finding in the soldiers under his command.

  “Yes. I always liked him. Smart kid.”

  Wager was a few centuries beyond being a “kid,” but Connor got the idea.

  Aidan ran a hand through his hair. In the Twilight, he’d always kept it short. The inky locks were longer now than Connor could ever remember seeing them. The look softened the captain’s features and blended with the glow of happiness visible whenever he looked at Lyssa. He was a changed man, a previously hopeless man who now had hope.

  “What did it say?” Connor asked.

  “He found traces of a bug inside the files you downloaded from the temple.” Aidan walked over to the swinging bench and sat.

  Turning, Connor rested his hip against the railing. “A bug?”

  “Yes, a virus or Trojan program that’s been monitoring everything the Elders have been doing.”

  “Eavesdropping?”

  Aidan looked at him grimly. “Yeah.”

  “So everything we know, someone else also knows?”

  “Looks that way.”

  Gripping the wooden slats behind him, Connor looked across the side-lawn to the neighbor’s yard. He exhaled harshly. “Any idea how long the bug has been there?”

  “The letter didn’t say. Wager is tracing it, but cautions us against holding our breaths. He says it’ll take some time and there is no guarantee of success.”

  “Well, someone else out there doesn’t trust the Elders either. Maybe that’s a good thing for us.”

  “Or maybe not.”

  “True.”

  “The letter also mentioned that your dreams with Sheron could be true. Wager found a file on a program called ‘dream incursion.’ Something about enhancing
dreams with information that would become memorable. He’s working on that lead, too.”

  “Poor guy,” Connor muttered. “How in hell did he end up with the Elite? His brain has got to be bored with all the chest thumping.”

  Aidan laughed. “He’s too hotheaded for a desk assignment. I asked him once why he joined the Elite. He said it was his first love and the rest was just a hobby.”

  “Some hobby.”

  The low rumble of a car’s engine drew both of their gazes to the road. Just beyond the chain link fence that marked Stacey’s property, a black sedan with dark tinted windows cruised slowly along then turned into the driveway.

  The screen door opened and the girls exited the house backwards, balancing small desert plates atop each hand. Both men spared only fleeting glances in their direction.

  “Who is that?” Stacey asked, noting how both Connor and Aidan seemed unduly interested in the approaching vehicle.

  Aidan stood and glanced at her, frowning. “You don’t recognize the car?”

  She shook her head.

  “Get in the house,” Connor ordered, moving to stand between her and the visitor.

  For a moment, Stacey contemplated the effectiveness of pointing out that she wasn’t one to be ordered around. In the end, she stepped around Connor and set the two slices of pie she was carrying on top of the two-by-four railing.

  “It’s my house,” she pointed out. “Whoever it is wants to see me. Or they’re lost. Most likely lost, because—”

  “I’ve got this, Cross,” Connor interjected darkly. “You take care of Lyssa.”

  Stacey fell silent as Aidan leaped to his feet and pushed Lyssa roughly into the house.

  Connor caught her arm and tugged her back behind him as the car rolled to a stop and the rear driver’s side door opened. Stacey swatted at him, loving that he was overprotective but also finding it annoying. Too much of anything was too much and…