“Oh, it’s heaven!” she sighed, and Galen began to relish the game. He had never considered the potential of a woman’s body beyond the obvious, and it was thrilling to know that he could please her in new ways. Even so, he wasn’t about to miss the obvious . . .
He gently gripped her knees, careful not to apply any pressure and cause himself a black eye with an unplanned spasm. He crawled forward, his face level with her knees, and risked a hot kiss on the tender crease behind each one, tasting the soft skin there and savoring the tremors he was sending up her body with each flick of his tongue. From there, he kissed a trail up each thigh, intermittently grazing the firm curves with his teeth as the sweet musky smell of her arousal filled his nostrils.
He crawled forward, her thighs parted by his bulk, until his nose was just above the luxurious spread of her sex. With the sheets covering him, Galen felt like an explorer in a humid, lush cave, and the thought made him smile as he lowered his lips to hers. She was already wet and wanting, and he dipped his tongue into the well between her silken folds and tasted the slick ambrosia of her need. He penetrated her lightly with his tongue, then sampled the entire length of her vulva, nibbling and laving every change in texture and sucking on her nether lips to make them even more swollen and sensitive to his touch.
She lifted her hips to try to guide him up to the greedy little button that was demanding his attention, and Galen obliged her, but only in a teasing pass of his mouth, tonguing the jutting tip of her as he moved up to press his nose against the soft curls on her mons. Galen didn’t want her to spend too quickly, though he deliberately let his chin push into her clit and then was mindful that at least part of him was “inadvertently” touching her there at all times, as he continued his journey upward.
He spread his fingers over her hip bones and studied the shape of her body there. He loved the way it rose and fell, every curve a delight and every dip guiding his hands to uncover more of her. Galen kissed each hip then used his tongue to trace the soft swell of her belly, to dip his tongue into her belly button. Haley laughed softly, wiggling at the sensation of his mouth against the miniature well, and he abandoned it to hover over her to taste the points where her waist narrowed while his fingers splayed over her ribs, measuring her slight span and absorbing the rise and fall of each breath.
He moved up, carefully keeping his full weight off of her but dragging his body across hers as he settled in over her breasts. He touched them with the reverence of a man admiring the sculptured work of a master. They were ripe and firm, the size of apples, ample enough to make his mouth water. He caressed the underside of each, letting his warm breath touch her skin to echo the path of his fingers. He pushed them upward to expose the soft crease underneath and then kissed her there. His hands roamed around the sides of each mound, lightly touching her until her skin marbled beneath his fingertips. Haley arched her back in a spasm of pleasure, pressing her breasts upward into his hands, eager for more.
Galen squeezed each one, then tweaked the hardened peaks in a pinch that made her buck more wildly. He lowered his mouth to one, sampling the ambrosia of her body, all the while aware that he could feast on this woman all day, but the delicious mounds would never diminish—the enchanted well between her legs would never run dry. She was a living goddess of sensual bounty, and his hunger for her was endless. He bent over and caught the other nipple in his mouth, capturing the taut pebbled circle completely and drawing on it, suckling her and consuming the hardened flesh as if her body alone was sustaining his life.
At last, he forced himself to let go, blowing cool air across her skin, and returned to his quest, kissing the valley between her breasts and up to her throat where he could taste the pulse in her throat and the faint salt of her sweat. At last, he found the firm, eager satin of her lips, and instead of a culmination of his feast, Galen was rewarded with a kiss that set off a ruthless hunger edged in the hypnotic promise of fulfillment yet to come. His cock was so hard and heavy between his legs, the slightest movement made his breath catch in his throat.
“I like the dark,” she whispered.
“Do you now?” He tried his best version of a Scottish brogue. “Well, lass, it does a let a man explore the bonnie heights!”
“What’s good for the goose . . .” She nipped at his ear and then shifted away, inspired to do a bit of exploration herself—as only seemed fair in light of the delicious torment she’d just endured. The dark emboldened her, and Haley decided to take advantage of the opportunity. Freed from the embarrassment of him seeing what she was sure was an unladylike lust, she pressed him back on the bed and moved down to the warm length of his sex and knelt between his thighs to satisfy her curiosity. By touch alone, she measured out the jutting prowess of his erection, amazed anew that such a marvelously large member fit her channel so perfectly. She could barely get her fingers around him, he was so thick, and his cock jumped in her hand when she squeezed to make the connection of her fingertips around the base of him.
She leaned forward, slowly planting a tentative kiss on his ripened head.
The dark is very liberating—I think I shall insist on it more often. . . .
She could smell the musk of his skin, and as her lips parted, she could taste the salty-sweet silk of his essence as his cock responded to her attentions. Her hair fell forward, and Haley deliberately allowed her long curls to caress his bare thighs and stomach as she deepened the kiss. Her tongue found the sensitive juncture at the underside of his swollen head, and she licked him there, flicking and pressing against him before circling his entire tip. She could feel his hips tensing, and it only added to her desire. She pulled him deeper into her mouth until she held all of his ripe plum- shaped hood in the hot pocket of her mouth, and the world melted away and became only this act of need—for she truly needed to taste him and please him and command the hunger in her to cease.
His hips strained, and she suspected he was trying not to buck against her mouth—and it thrilled her to think that she could be the one to drive him past his self-control. She released him, but only to use her tongue to locate every vein on his shaft and follow it down his engorged length. She mapped every texture with her mouth, kissing and sucking him until she knew exactly where he was most sensitive, and then added her hands to the game. She pulled her hands up and down his shaft, increasing the pressure slowly up and down the sinew that ran down the underside of his cock, massaging the butter-soft skin that encased the hot, unyielding core of his shaft.
She cupped the odd sac underneath, enjoying its soft fur and vaguely realizing that it too moved in her hands, tightening and contracting as her breath fanned its surface. Haley prodded him with careful fingers and uncovered the pressure points to make him writhe and groan. She leaned over to place her mouth against it, and Galen’s entire body stiffened.
“Did I wound you?”
“God, no! Don’t stop, Haley!”
She smiled and immediately set out to comply with his wishes. She kissed and suckled him till she was almost dizzy with her own brazen actions, reveling in Galen’s every sigh. Then suddenly, he’d disengaged himself and tumbled her over and for a second she was disoriented—and distraught to think she’d done something wrong—before realizing the delightfully wicked workings of his mind.
He was astride her face, and her lips could feel his impatient cock pressing against her, requesting her renewed attentions. But even more forbidden, his head was firmly planted between her thighs, and his tongue wasted no time in finding her clit as his hands spread open the petals of her sex so that there was nothing his mouth couldn’t reach.
She almost giggled, but the magic of the dark held sway and she drank in the raw power of her hunger for him, and banished her blushes as she took him back into the eager confines of her mouth and parted her thighs to silently bid him to feast as he wished.
Galen lost himself in the decadent dance of giving and receiving pleasure until he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. She’d surpassed
his fantasies, and the reality of her mouth and hands on his cock was more potent than any opiate—and just as addictive. The fire pooling behind in his balls was a pressure so sweet it was setting his teeth on edge. And while he couldn’t keep himself from savoring the promised bliss, he hesitated to allow himself to release—fearful of shocking her with a flood of crème in her mouth.
He pulled out with a groan and repositioned her with a primal growl in his throat so that she was astride his lap, facing him. Kneeling together, he penetrated the tight, wet confines of her body almost instantly and, only then, remembered to breathe again. They were intertwined so tightly, Galen relished the perfection of the fit between them. His hips pressed his cock up into her quivering channel, battering against the opening of her womb, until the rough curls above his shaft were teasing her clit, and he kissed her breasts as they bounced against him—laving and teasing the tips, using his teeth and tongue to pinch and stimulate her, until she cried for more.
Rocking up into her, Galen felt the fire inside of him roar into an inferno of blue white desire that lingered just out of reach, deliberately lashing him forward in a primeval dance of conquest and surrender.
Closer and closer, he pushed and pressed without hammering, for he couldn’t withdraw to strike up into her. This was more of an endless caress. They were locked together so perfectly. Like a mortar and pestle, each movement was minimized but the slightest shift touched everything. It was friction everywhere, and Haley began to almost keen as he slowly meted out his thrusts in time with the beat of her heart.
She threw her head back and he could feel her orgasm all around him as her body released a flow of its own, coating his cock in the rich honey of her climax.
His own release came on the heels of hers, and he held onto her as the fire imploded through him and he was robbed of speech and thought for long moments, even after the last spasm had wrenched the crème from his cock.
They were both quiet as they settled back against the pillows, trying to recover themselves as their hearts finally slowed. Not a word was spoken as she tucked back against his side, and Galen waited while her breathing evened out and she dropped off into a deep sleep.
He held her in the dark and stared up into the void. This is like some twisted version of Psyche and Cupid. The nightmare’s visions unfurled in his head, and Galen pulled her closer against him. I don’t want you to see what I am, Haley.
Galen paced around the small room, stopping only to pick up one or two strange objects from Rowan’s collection before setting them back down again. “Do you think objects can be cursed?”
“Why? Do you think we lined our pockets with bad luck, my friend?”
“I don’t want to believe anything of the kind. Just the opposite, Rowan. I want to believe that something good truly did come out of all of it in the end. That there is some justice in the world.”
“You want to believe? My goodness, Galen, how far have we fallen?”
“Far enough that I think I’m trying to make sense of everything on my own. I just don’t trust the Fates to balance it all out.”
“Are you sleeping at all, these days?”
Galen smiled, unwilling to admit that most of his current lack of sleep was due to the distracting and beautiful Haley Moreland. “Some.”
“I’ll send you home with a packet to steep in some hot water. Try a cup before you retire and see if it provides any relief.”
“I thought you’d advised against tonics.”
“Most of them have an alcohol base, Galen, and will send you to your grave for a little more rest than you’re bargaining for. The packet I’ll make for you is natural herbs and a bit of tea. You can add a bit of honey if the flavor doesn’t suit,” Rowan said in his most professional manner.
“No wonder your patients adore you.” Galen abandoned his study of the curios to occupy his favorite chair. “You could coddle a man to death, Dr. West.”
“Yes, but he’d never complain,” Darius said as he knocked at the doorway, nodding a greeting before entering to join them without formality.
“Trust me, they complain,” Rowan countered, stretching out his legs as Darius poured himself a drink and sat down.
“Why do I feel as if all of us are dancing on the edge of a cliff? As if whatever tragedy we escaped on the other side of the world is stalking us even now?”
Rowan sighed and took a small sip of his brandy. “Who can say? I think each of us brought a demon or two with us into the dark, Galen. Nothing is banished or resolved through suffering, and then to find ourselves so . . . unexpectedly fortunate when we stumbled onto that treasure. Some have spent a portion of our shares discreetly while others prefer to wait as we agreed. We’ve all saved the more spectacular gems for the future, but we wouldn’t be human if we didn’t worry about the consequences of cheating fate so completely.”
“A demon or two . . .” Galen considered it, then looked at his friend with new eyes. “Did you bring a demon with you to India?”
“I did.”
Galen waited, but Rowan said nothing more. He looked at Darius, who simply nodded. Finally, Galen spoke aloud the question that haunted him. “Can a man cheat the Fates?”
“The Greeks didn’t think so,” Darius noted quietly.
“And what do you think, Dr. West?” Galen asked.
“You don’t want to know what I think, Galen.”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
Rowan finished the rest of his drink in one smooth swallow and set the glass down. “I don’t believe in fate. I believe that we can, by choice, manifest the best or the worst for ourselves—and those demons, Galen, they feed off of the worst parts of our soul and grow only when we allow them to. If I . . .” His words faltered for a moment, his eyes taking on a faraway look from some unspoken memory. “If I dwell on the mistakes I’ve made, or the disappointments . . .” Rowan caught himself in the dark reverie and instantly smiled. “Then what a glum friend I would make!”
“And your philosophy, Thorne?” Galen asked.
“I think the Greeks had it right enough, but perhaps not the way you’re looking at it.” Darius set his drink down. “It was more like destiny. I like to think of it as the path best suited to our purpose—and not some punishment we can’t avoid like an errant child. After all, maybe the worst scrapes are when we’re not fulfilling our divine potential, and the Fates are there to push us back onto the path.”
Galen shook his head. “I like my friends, no matter their moods and philosophies, and I’m grateful they tolerate mine.” He pushed up from the smooth soft leather chair, restlessly returning to one of the shelves to look at a small statuette of the Egyptian god Horus. “But I worry now that I’ve given too much to that worst part of me—that demon in the dark. And if there’s a path, I think I’m so far off into the woods that it’s becoming more and more difficult to recognize the man I once thought I would become.” He turned back, attempting a bit of black humor. “Do villains even have friends?”
“You aren’t a villain, Galen,” Darius stated immediately.
Rowan was equally quick to protest. “The fact that you would even worry about such a thing disqualifies you.” Rowan also stood to cross to Galen. “Similar I think to men who wonder if they’re insane. No one who stands drooling in corners ever seems to question it or worry what their friends will say.”
Galen closed his eyes for a moment, then smiled. “You have a talent for imagery that never fails.”
“Hawke”—Rowan’s tone grew more serious—“you’ve told us almost nothing of what is troubling you, and out of respect, I’ve not pressed you for any details. But if it’s atonement you’re seeking, then I’m afraid it’s in your own hands.”
“Atonement.” Galen tasted the word, savoring the bitter-sweet feel of it on his tongue.
“It’s your demon to do with what you will, Galen.” Rowan crossed his arms and sat on the edge of his desk. “And I’m sure I’m not the first man to advise a friend to just s
et the damn thing down and give yourself permission to be happy—and to sleep.”
“You make it sound so simple, Dr. West.”
“You’re not cursed, Hawke. You’re just stubborn,” Darius added sagely before a smile undermined his serious pronouncement.
“Like hell!” Galen muttered the oath before he thought better of it, and then they all laughed at the inescapable truth of it.
On the short ride back to his home, Galen leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. My demon . . . so I need my permission . . . is it that simple, really?
Galen sat up suddenly, the epiphany happening in a quick rush that almost made him cough. Why can’t it be that simple? I want her, I need her . . . I love her. Oh, God, I’m in love with Haley Moreland.
And there’s . . . nothing standing in my way.
Galen’s brow furrowed as he measured out the truth of that last thought. From Haley’s perspective, the matter was entirely settled in his favor. As lecherous and impossible as he’d been, she’d given herself into his hands and . . . she was quietly and rightfully expecting his proposal any day now.
There’s nothing standing in my way!
Except, a part of him chimed in darkly, for the lies, deception, and the matter of a certain vow he’d made. But Galen shook his head and ignored the voice. It won’t matter if I make her happy.
And by God, I’m going to spend the rest of my life making Haley Moreland very, very happy.
Chapter 18
On impulse, Galen ordered the carriage to let them out at the corner near his home. She’d been so tender with him the previous night when he’d battled his demons, he couldn’t wait to throw off the restrictions of a clandestine affair—and all the lies he’d told. He’d been feeling more and more like a thief, and it wasn’t a sensation he’d enjoyed. But now he’d accepted that every minute with Haley had an appeal he didn’t have to relinquish.
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