by Elle Cross
Plus, the food was magnificent. It demanded your attention with each bite. Made you savor the now.
Deimos set the cadence. No matter how quickly or slowly I ate, he would not be swayed from the pace he set. And he made sure that I was drooling by the time he was ready to feed me another bite.
Finally, I collapsed against him. "No more, please. I can't take another."
He kissed the top of my head. "Are you sure, darling?" He held a delicate morsel aloft. My mouth watered at the sight of it. But my stomach rebelled.
I bit my lip, my tongue at war with my stomach. "Yes, I'm sure, even though I could probably eat myself to death."
"Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?" He set it down.
"Wait." I sat up a little, his arm slackened enough for me to turn and face him. "You haven't eaten a thing."
"Because I don't need to."
Well, that was an odd thing to say. Now, it was my turn to cock my head at him, really look at him up close. I couldn't hold his gaze for long, but I enjoyed searching his face, examining every curve and line of it. He had a face made for war, and right now, I was the sole focus of his intention.
I'd usually hate being this close to someone, being as aware of me as I was of them. But, my old inhibitions were barely more than a dull whisper, slowly becoming silent.
Perhaps being draped across someone's lap and hand fed dinner made those old inhibitions moot.
Or, maybe it was just him.
"Well," I started, "no one really needs to eat this. But you've got to at least try it. It's magnificent." I decided to skip over what he might have meant with his statement, and just went for the surface meaning. I reached over to pick up the morsel he placed down, and delivered it to him with the same deliberate slowness he did for me.
The corner of his mouth quirked up, amused at my play, and he accepted it from me.
When I would have pulled away, he grabbed my wrist and kissed my fingertips, lightly sucking at each one. I nearly swooned from the pleasure of being touched there by another person...
Then like a bucket of ice water washed over me, I realized what was happening. I automatically called on my control, my walls, hoping that I hadn't harmed him in my inattention.
"Please, I—" I began, and stopped. He rolled his eyes toward me, not moving, not releasing my hand, either. Just waited.
There was...nothing. I didn't feel the need to brace myself for thoughts and feelings that weren't my own. I could just feel, for once, without warding myself.
When I didn't continue, when I sighed with relief from the control I didn't need to rein, he cocked an eyebrow at me, and I nodded in response. He threaded his fingers through mine, and stretched out my hand, exposing my palm. I was mesmerized with his slow descent toward it, bit my lip in anticipation.
When he finally placed his lips against it, my body tightened and clenched. Liquid heat pooled between my legs at his lingering kiss. He could probably feel it through his pants.
"You're right," he said. "That was delicious. But I had a whole other taste palate in mind for this evening."
I met his gaze and held it for once. And what I saw there cut through the numbness I'd built around me. It was like a dawning truth that rushed heat all over my body and pulsated in time to my quickening heartbeat.
He wanted me.
He wanted me.
He wanted me.
He. Wanted. Me.
I straddled his hips and kissed him. Grabbed fistfuls of his hair and gloried in the feeling of it in my bare hands. I ground myself against the straining hardness in his pants, already demanding release.
"There you are," he whispered.
I vaguely felt a pulling, heard a ripping. My robe was gone, and so were my cami and panties.
He fisted my hair, and pulled, gaining access to my neck. He licked the pulse there before grazing his teeth against it, sucking at it.
I ground my hips against him harder, not able to stand the sensations coursing through me. I fought against his hold in my hair, and kissed him again, ravaging his mouth.
He ran his other hand up my thigh, slipped a cool finger inside me. I tightened around him automatically. A low, rumbling sound vibrated from his chest. "Hot," he said against my mouth, and he slipped another finger inside me. "And wet." He worked his fingers inside me, his tongue sliding against mine. If he pressed his thumb against my clit, I'd come immediately.
He pulled my head back. "Unzip me," he growled out.
I grabbed at his waistband and pulled, the button and zipper tearing apart, aware that I most likely ruined a five-thousand-dollar pair of pants. He was hard and ready, and I skimmed my hands over his perfect length.
He lifted me up by my waist, crushed me to him, licked and sucked one nipple and then the other, back and forth. I ground myself against his hard body.
Then he hoisted me up further, lifted me higher and higher, held me firmly around my hips, my legs thrown over his shoulders, and closed his lips over my clit.
I screamed my orgasm until my throat was raw, dying over and over again while his tongue flickered over me, delved in my folds.
I barely drew a ragged breath when he shifted me suddenly and impaled me on his hard cock. I cried out again, a pain that was pleasure as he filled me, stretched me. Instinctively, my hips moved against him, wild and free. I tore apart his damned shirt that was still buttoned so I could splay my hands against the hard expanse of his chest.
He leaned back, watching me, where our bodies joined, ran his hands to my hips, and pressed a thumb against me.
The pleasure of it had me curling my fingers in, digging my nails into him. "Please," I whispered grinding myself against him.
There was a clattering of dishes behind me. He gripped my hips, and laid me on the table. He grabbed hold of my ankles and stretched my legs out as far as they could go and drove up into me, setting a fierce and demanding pace.
I gazed up at him through hooded lids. He looked every bit a god then, feral and wild, red and gold swirling in the black of his eyes, thrusting into me with his shirt torn open exposing black whorls tattooed over deepening, bronzed skin. His aura was completely unbound now, rippling gray tendrils at the edge of the storm clouds that loomed around him.
I blinked and looked at him fully. His aura was still there, but the black and gold were gone, just smooth taut flesh. He lifted the corner of his mouth, then, that playful half smile that captured my heart and left me breathless. Without breaking his rhythm, he turned his head, and licked the pulse at my ankle.
I bucked from the unexpected pleasure, adding to the building pressure that sought another release.
His aura was alive with strobing lightning now, the tendrils snaked toward me, touching me, teasing me, rolling over my nipples, my clit, pulsing with an electric charge that had me arching my back and wrenching guttural sounds out of me.
He flipped me over, his large hands grasping my ribs, holding me down, using his body and weight to keep me still so he could slam his hips against me. The sounds of flesh smacking, strained breathing, and rhythmic sighs filled my ears, aroused me to new heights.
I broke first, but my shattering cries were quickly drowned out by his dominant roar. He thrust one, two, three more times before he rested his hips against me, buried to the hilt.
Instead of collapsing on top of me, like I'd expected, he levered me up, arched me against the front of him. His aura wrapped around both of us, gossamer tendrils caressing me, binding me against him.
He was still buried inside me, quickly becoming thick and hard again as he laid soft kisses down my neck and shoulder. He cupped one breast, teased the nipple. The other hand grabbed my hair and twisted me so he could kiss my lips.
I tasted myself on him and heat rushed through my core again, clenching my muscles tight around his throbbing hardness inside me. His hand left my breast and skimmed down my body, resting between my legs, a finger teasing my clit.
I bowed against him, didn't know if
I could take any more. He stopped kissing me, then, his finger paused until I looked at him, met his gaze.
I reached for him, curling my arm up to grip his neck, fairly whined at him to go on. He smiled at my response, smacked another kiss on me before growling, "Again," against my mouth.
He worked his finger at a furious pace that had me bucking my hips, straining my muscles against the hold he had on me.
"Now," he said.
My mind didn't comprehend, but my body already knew what he demanded of me and yielded to his wishes.
This orgasm rippled all over me, radiating out from my center down to the tips of my toes, and up to my tingling scalp. Every inch of me felt what he wanted me to feel, demanded me to feel. And I was more than willing to give in to him.
Hours felt like minutes as we explored each other's bodies.
He had me on my hands and knees. Then tasted me again, licked and sucked every inch of my body.
I closed my mouth over his hard cock as he held my head, fingers tangling in my hair. He grew harder in my mouth, impossibly so. He came when I took him deep in my throat and I drank all of him down.
We worshiped each other's sweat-slicked bodies well into the night.
I woke in the dark. My old anxieties didn't rise with me. A hand spanned my waist, a weight shifted the bed on my side. A soft glow surrounded the bed, which was just enough light to see by and not blind me.
I noticed belatedly that the light came from Deimos's aura.
He sat at the edge of the bed, fresh and dapper, dressed in a suit that couldn't possibly have been the one I tore from his body though it looked identical, the jacket draped across the chair next to my bed the only concession he had made to comfort.
He didn't seem like he'd just spent the night claiming every inch of my body like some god of old.
"Good morning," he said, his voice rumbled over my body in a delicious hum that made me shiver. His hand ventured lower, and I parted my legs for him. He smiled and found my wet silken heat, played languid circles over my sensitized skin.
I sighed. "Is it morning? It seems more night than day." Pink just barely tinged the gray light pressing in from my windows. It couldn't have been more than an hour since he tucked me into bed. An innocent gesture so at odds to the tantric fucking all over the rest of my bedroom.
"I need to leave soon. I wanted you to know." He leaned over and kissed me. His fingers grew insistent, the tendrils of his aura wrapped teasingly around my taut nipples.
My orgasm surprised me, but not Deimos. He drank down my moans, his hand pressing against my bucking hips, drawing out wave after wave of orgasms.
He laid soft kisses down the side of my face. "I want to be the last thing you think about before you sleep, and the first thing you think about when you wake." He captured an earlobe and sucked gently.
It wasn't a question or a request.
I whispered, "Yes," anyway and turned to him, clutching his head to seal his mouth over mine, kissing him thoroughly.
He drew himself away from me, though he idly played between my legs, his knuckles lightly grazing the sensitized flesh there.
His attention was on my body, now, taking me all in. I would have worried at his serious expression, except that his power played lightly against my body, too, curling around my breasts, teasing me by avoiding my nipples.
"I'm pleased to see you whole again."
One of the tendrils finally covered a nipple, and sent a pulsing thrum over it. "Hmm?"
He chuckled, and the sensations stopped suddenly.
A whimper escaped my lips before I thought to contain it.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I was distracting you."
"I liked being distracted." He kissed me again, and left me breathless. "You were saying?"
"That I'm pleased to see you whole again."
I lifted myself up onto my elbows just enough to look down at my body, and not so I had to move myself away from the hand that still grazed between my legs.
It took me a moment to even realize why I should be surprised that my skin was only slightly pink and not a green and purple mess. With Deimos, I'd forgotten I was even attacked, that the pains and aches hadn't hindered my mobility.
And now, there wasn't even a bruise or scrape to remind me otherwise.
He kissed me again, and I clutched at his neck not willing for him to leave me yet. He growled low in his throat, shifting my position so that my legs swung over the edge of the bed and around his hips. I clung to him, clutched fistfuls of his hair to keep him against me. I heard a zipper undone, the swish of fabric falling away, before my moans filled the room again.
Afterward, I followed him out to my door, wrapped in my blanket. I chose to ignore the mess in my dining room. Deimos had suggested La Serenissima's cleaning service for me. I tacked on a delivery of a full breakfast order as well.
There was no way I could sleep anytime soon.
He held my face in his hands, long fingers gently kneading my scalp. "I would stay with you all day," he murmured.
"I'd like that," I whispered. Then, blushed at my uncensored thought, but couldn't look away from him since he held me.
He kissed me again. Reverently. "I've said before," he whispered in my ear, "you have nothing to be embarrassed about with me. You're mine, Vesper Tallinn."
Not a question. Just a statement.
I whispered, "Yes," anyway and kissed him. His words did something to me, loosed something inside of me that I didn't want to examine, not yet.
Heat rushed over me, and I groaned when he parted from me.
He kissed my forehead. "I could kill whoever arranged this meeting." Then he inhaled deeply. "Especially when you're hot and wet for me."
I blushed hotter, but kept his gaze without his help, caressed down his body until I cupped the hard bulge between his legs. "Well, knowing how uncomfortable you'll be makes me feel better."
He barked out a surprised laugh. I pulled him down with his tie and kissed him as soundly as I could, stroked him a few times before letting him go.
"Go on, now," I said against his mouth. "I'm sure you need to buy the moon or sell Jupiter or something."
"I already own them both, but selling Jupiter wouldn't be a bad idea." He flashed that half smile of his that sent shivers down my body. His hot gaze told me he knew the effect he had on me.
"Tonight," he said. Then he was gone.
Deimos's intoxicating scent lingered. Dark spices mingled with the crisp air after a thunderstorm. Even outside his presence, he demanded my attention.
I looked over at the mess that was my dining room. The broken plates, the exquisite food. All trampled. I picked up the useless shredded fabric of my cami and panties. I bit my lip, and flushed from the memory of them being torn from me.
A knock at the door. I hoped it was the cleaning service here before the food delivery. It would be nice to have someplace to set the food.
What was the point of a day off when I was antsy for work?
Megan had cleared my appointments until Monday. I’d called to check on her after I woke from my after-breakfast nap. She had just woken up too, and just wanted to lounge for the rest of the day. I caught her up on what had happened to me after I’d left her, including the PG-rated version of my dinner with Deimos.
She still managed to twist it into something X-rated and kinky as hell…not that she was wrong. I just didn’t need to encourage her with the graphic play by play of all we did. She made me promise to host brunch tomorrow so she could pry the details out of me.
Corbin had been incommunicado all day.
Maybe if I dropped by the precinct, she’d be forced to talk to me. Or, I could always sneak into her office and check out her murder board? I deflated a little. I never had to sneak into anywhere. Partly because I was never that interested enough to really pry into Corbin's work, but also because I had always felt...invited.
There was something going on that gave me the feeling that I wouldn’t be welcome
at all, and that was bothering the shit out of me.
I knew that she could be a little by the book and a lot protective. I was protective over her and Megan as well. But this was Jack. Someone I knew.
I bit my lip. Deimos didn't seem to be too thrilled about Sylphs. Corbin didn't seem fond of them, either. But they did say that they would be on the lookout for Jack as well, right?
I sipped my coffee, and as the hot liquid worked its magic on my brain, a plan started to form. Looking for Jack in Chinatown was the last logical thing that I had chosen to do. It didn't quite work out, but I had made some progress.
If I couldn't make progress in the Human world and politics, maybe it was time to embrace what the Remnant Gods would do.
After all, being a Lady had gotten me more information— and better treatment —than being the closeted artist that needed to be saved.
Looking for Jack at where he had disappeared was a logical first step. It would have worked, but Megan and I had just gotten sidetracked.
I was still shaken up from my experiences yesterday to even think about going downtown alone. But there are other ways to get where I needed to go.
There was a perfectly good mirror at Jack's that seemed to be a pretty easy way to navigate. Maybe I could somehow contact the Sylphs that way. I wondered if Jack ever called in his favor from the Sylphs. Or if that was why they were helping me now?
I threw on some lounge pants and a shirt and replaced my robe again. I stepped out of my apartment, and nearly wheeled right into a pair of officers who were locking up Jack's apartment. "Oh! Officer Bailey!"
Rajah sidled up next to me, sniffing and whining at Bailey's legs. I called him to stand beside me so he would be out of the officers’ space. Besides, stroking his neck was comforting.
"Morning, Ms. Tallinn. Didn't mean to startle you. Just checking on some evidence." His partner had re-sealed the door and added a fancy evidence lock with NYPD’s Major Cases’ seal on it. I unfortunately missed out on him keying in the combination. "Did you need any assistance?"
