by Jackie Ivie
He was pulling it off as he spoke. He had very wide shoulders. Cherish licked her lips. He reacted, closing his eyes, while he visibly trembled. A shot of delight rushed through her veins. Heated her cheeks. Warmed her heart.
“It’s...cold,” she replied.
“We’ll walk quickly. We’ll be at my apartment in no time. I’ll warm you.”
It was Cherish’s turn to shake. What an enjoyable sensation! She closed her eyes to encapsulate it. When she opened them, he was watching. Evaluating. And liking what he saw. His expression reflected all of it.
“Come on, Cherish. Trust me. Take me hand.”
“I’m not sure...we should touch,” she whispered.
“That again? I thought you said it wasn’t you.”
He sounded wary, but he looked entertained. She didn’t know him well enough to judge, but his smile didn’t falter.
“It wasn’t,” she answered.
“Okay. Compromise. I’ll keep the coat handy, and you can hold onto my arm. Will that be better?”
He turned sideways to her and offered his arm. Cherish didn’t know much about falconry, or ornithology, but they didn’t sound like occupations that should engender physical activity. Strenuous training. Rigorous muscle building. It must, however, because Doctor Reid’s shirt hugged him, putting a masculine, defined bicep on display. Cherish pulled in her lower lip and trembled as she reached for him. She knew exactly what the sensation was.
Pleasure.
She didn’t know why she’d fought this mating thing. So far, it was the best experience of her existence. She couldn’t wait to see what else it held. She slid from the seat and reached for him. Her fingers wrapped about his muscle as an electric jolt flashed along the sidewalk, dimming the nearest street light before it recovered.
“Wow. You know...um. Touching you looks like it should carry a warning sign. But it is really cool. And highly addictive. I can’t wait to get you alone! I hope you’re ready for a brisk walk. Because I am not waiting.”
Brisk walk?
His sense of humor was intact. She hoped she managed to keep her feet on the ground.
CHAPTER SEVEN
His apartment was an enclosed space that smelled of warmth. Musk. Spice. It matched her mate’s smell. Exactly. Cherish forced her attention to something besides Samson Reid. Now that they’d reached a private space, trying to rein back the sensations overtaking her was a difficult task. Worse than during the walk. And that had been excruciating. Each step gave her more sensory details. They’d moved at a very brisk pace. Good thing. Her troubles increased with every step. Her fangs had vibrated in her mouth with increasing strength. Each breath had come with a rush. Her muscles had tightened and jittered with tension. And her bosom!
Oh my!
Cherish had nearly put a hand to where the corset-top pushed her upwards. She should have taken his offer of a coat. Or fastened her jacket. Her reason wasn’t due to any onlookers. She hadn’t even noticed. She was dealing with the physical feel of night air on her skin. It did increasingly tormenting things. Especially her nipples. They were like raw bits of nerve endings. Rubbing. Stimulating.
“Well. This is it. My apartment.”
Warm breath accompanied his words as he flicked a switch, sending a small glow from a table lamp. He clicked on another switch, lighting more of the space. Cherish didn’t turn toward him. Not yet. She didn’t dare. She was grateful she’d fed already. His blood was like a beacon, sending impulses. Awakening needs. It tantalized. Pulled. She could barely restrain the urge.
“Your...apartment.” she repeated. Her voice slurred. That was probably her fangs. But the sound also wavered. That reflected how off-kilter she felt. Excited. Tense.
“Yeah. So. What do you think?”
He had a small apartment, a few feet larger than her mausoleum. She had the dimensions pegged instantly. He had a lot of windows. Large ones. They filled two walls of the space they were in, and she could see another one at the end of his hall. His living area and kitchen were one room, divided by a sofa that faced a large flat rectangular thing. Something hummed from the far corner of the kitchen area. It caught her ear for a second. And then other sounds intruded. Strains of mixed-genre music. Steps. Shouts. Talking. Somewhere in the apartment complex outside his door, all kinds of people were laughing. Chatting. Existing.
“You okay? The walk wasn’t too...strenuous?”
Strenuous.
The word conjured images. Her. Him. Shedding their clothing. Melding.
Cherish managed to nod. She was still attached to his arm, her fingers affixed about his bicep. She tightened every muscle, working to contain any other type of response. While she still could.
“You want a glass of wine? Or maybe you’d like to uh...freshen up? The bathroom is...uh...whoa.”
Cherish turned toward him as he spoke. Focused on his throat, where a vein trembled with his pulse. His voice had lowered, before halting altogether. She didn’t catch what he’d said. His mouth had been moving. His lips were full. Inviting. She’d never been kissed. Never really cared. But, oh! How she wanted one now.
She put the fingers of her free hand on his chest, flattening her palm so she could feel his heart beating against her skin. With the same rhythm as hers. Each beat sent a spark shooting right to her breast tips. Her fangs elongated. Her lips parted. She couldn’t halt any of it. His shirt had a shadow-stripe woven into it. Her fingers slid along the fabric lines, following them upward, before wrapping about his neck. Her eyes were focused entirely on his lips. So moist. So...inviting.
“Or...we can kiss right here. I’m good with that, too.”
He licked his lips and Cherish reacted, pulling his head toward her while everything else lunged upward. Their lips met. Her canines sliced. And absolute chaos ensued. Samson slammed backward into the wall, taking the brunt of it with his shoulders. Liquid warmth filled her mouth. Heat hit her chest cavity. Her heart seized up for a moment before it crashed to the pit of her belly, sending powerful, heavy beats from there. They matched the movement of their lips. Meshing. Joining.
Each gesture added fuel to the incendiary feeling. Something behind her crackled and then exploded. She caught the sound of glass. Ignored it. Moved even closer to him. Smashed her breasts against a hard chest. She heaved up, wrapping her legs about his thighs. Moaned. Sliced at her inner lower lip, opening a cut that welled blood. And then she waited.
Samson tasted.
And then he reacted.
Shuddering overcame him, rocking her with it. Groans filled the space as he latched onto her mouth, laving and caressing as he consumed their comingled fluid.
This was incredible. Immense. Almost too much so.
Cherish broke the kiss and licked her way to his throat. Toward the vein she’d seen. The succor she needed. His bowtie stopped her before she ripped at it, shredding the satin into waste cloth. And then she was there. Cherish stabbed into his throat. And the area went crazy. The world careened off its axis. Re-righted itself. And then spun the other way.
“Oh, Cherish! Baby. You are so good. So...wild! So...ah!”
The words tickled her tongue as they passed through his throat. Samson had his head back, his hands about her waist, pinning her in place. He was shoving his pelvis against hers, grinding her against something unfamiliar. Hard. Large. Active. Fascinating.
Cherish pulled away from his neck, he dropped his head, and their gazes locked. And she pulsed in response.
“I want to mate with you,” she whispered.
“Oh sweet! Mating sounds so...yeah. You got it. And...uh. Are you kidding me? You had your teeth done into fangs? The warrior-goddess look wasn’t enough? Oh wow. Cherish. You are beyond incredible.”
She ignored his query. Time for that later. Much later. Right now she was in the grip of something visceral and basic. Overwhelming. Necessary. It created steamed heat. Moist needs. A primal-sounding beat filled the hallway with slow, low-pitched, thumping sounds. She moved her hand
s to her shoulders, shrugging her jacket off. The whisper of sound as it landed was barely noticeable through their panting breaths. Her corset was next. He was watching as she slipped the top hook free. The next one down. The third one. He reacted with a pent breath, a stiffening of his frame, a shudder. By the fifth hook, she’d freed her breasts enough she could rub them against his shirt. The move tormented and teased. But failed to deliver the succor she sought. Samson seemed to know. He lifted her upward, and a moment later, he reached a nipple. He licked. Toyed. And then he latched onto it and sent her senses into a larger tailspin than before.
“Oh, my! Oh, yes! Oh...Samson! Yes!”
Words burst out, scraping her throat. Another glass globe exploded somewhere in the room behind them. Samson moved his attention to her other peak, multiplying the pleasure as he suckled. Cherish had never experienced such rapture, yet instinctively knew it was just a prelude. She put her hands beneath Samson’s chin, tilted his head toward her, releasing his grip on her. The expression on his face sent her into another realm of vibration. Heat. Sensory stimuli.
He lowered her while she was still trembling with the combination of sensations. And then he was nuzzling her lips with his again. Making words. Sending breath with the sound. Heat.
“Cherish. Babe. We gotta move this to the bedroom. I mean this hall isn’t conducive to...oh yeah. That. Wow.”
His words choked off as Cherish rotated her hips, sliding her jeans along the strange part of him.
“Okay. Bedroom can wait. Got it. But this suit is really gonna be a problem.”
Cherish pulled back to run her fingers down the length of his hidden shirt placket front. Buttons popped off as she went, until the linen was unfastened. Gapped. She wasn’t waiting any longer. She ripped the shirt open and shoved it off his shoulders with hands that shook. She didn’t know what she was doing. It was instinctive. It was necessary. And it wasn’t optional. Samson was reacting, too, speaking words between pants for breath that matched hers.
“Shit. Okay. Suit...is a non-issue. I’ll replace the damn thing. Oh. Crap. I’ve got cuff links. You may have to...stop for a moment.”
He held her with one arm to lift the other, showing how the shirt was affixed to his wrist. Cherish grabbed his sleeve, pulled, and ripped his arm free of the restriction. Then she did the same with his other arm.
“Or not.”
Samson chuckled before moving a hand to her waist. He slipped open the button of her denims. Gripped the top of her zipper fastener. His knuckles grazed her skin, bare between the bottom of her half-opened corset and her jeans. The contact electrified. Sizzled. Their gazes locked. Hers was wide. Startled. His was unreadable.
“Well. I’m not letting you get all the fun,” he told her.
He unzipped her fly. Slipped his hand beneath her panties. Cherish sucked in a breath that iced. Shocked. Stunned. And then his fingers touched her most intimate place and sent rocket flares shooting right through her. Cherish went wild. She rocked and gyrated, and shrieked. Sensations beyond imaging swelled into being all through her. Conquering. Claiming. Owning. All kinds of glass items sounded like they became casualties in the room behind her. And she didn’t remotely care.
“Oh Cherish. Babe. We really need to get this...to the bedroom.”
The words were tortured-sounding. It matched the iron-like consistency of his entire frame. He’d pulled his hand from contact with her in order to grip her buttocks. He’d put his head on her shoulder, bowing his back, and he was pumping his loins at hers, making thudding noises against the wall behind him.
“Oh. Cherish. You’re so wild. So hot. So...sweet.”
“Yes,” she murmured.
She wasn’t really listening. She was absorbing. Experiencing. And exploring. Her hands roamed the muscled ropes of his belly. She reached a wide band of satin material strapped about his waist. It stopped her. Cherish looked up at him with a frustrated look.
“Cummerbund. I know. Stupid design. I won’t wear it again. Trust me. Now, hang on. We’re moving this.”
“Wait!” She tensed.
“What? Why?”
“I’ll walk.”
“Like hell you will.”
“We...might fall.”
“You feel this?”
He ground his pelvis against her. A tremor coursed through him. A look of torment crossed his features.
“This is the center of my world at the moment. Got it?”
She nodded.
“Good. Besides, I didn’t just play with birds...my entire life. I spent every summer on my grandpa’s ranch. Tossing hay. Working livestock. There is zero chance we’ll fall. Trust me.”
He started walking, each stride punishing her with more sensation. More titillation. More sensory strangeness. All emanating from where his groin was shoved against her.
“You...promise?”
The whisper sounded like a stranger. Raspy. Low. It didn’t sound like the Cherish who’d been neglected and forgotten at the orphanage, nor did it resemble the accomplished assassin she’d become, either.
“Cherish. Honey. I have to tell you. There is only one thing on my mind right now. One. It’s want. Need. Gotta have. You get me? And it’s massive. I don’t care about suits. Or noise. Hell. I don’t even care about condoms. Now, hold on.”
He launched sideways. Cherish caught the cry with clenched teeth, cutting her lower lip again before they landed atop a bed. Things fell with thumping sounds as the mattress bounced at least twice. Cherish wasn’t counting. She was dealing with the physical reality of his size. Weight. Feel. He pulled up onto his knees, working the array of muscles in his abdomen as he swiveled to yank one of her boots off. He rotated to the other side to remove the other boot. He wasn’t being gentle. Every move was purposeful. Driven. Highly enjoyable to watch. Her jeans were next. The legs went inside-out as he yanked them off, one leg at a time. Her panties followed, although he only got them off one leg. And then he just stopped, his gaze like a touch as he sent it over her. Only the corset-top still covered her, closed at her waist with three hooks. Cherish had never felt so open or vulnerable.
Nor, had she ever felt so adored.
And then he looked up at her. The look on his face ripped through her conscience. Shredding restrictions. Altering time. He looked angered. Predatory. It almost frightened. And totally thrilled.
“I sure hope you’re ready.”
“I—”
Her whisper still sounded like a stranger. And then even the ability to speak fled her. Because he opened his trousers and shoved them down, along with his undergarment, releasing something massive. Thick. And completely foreign. Her mouth dropped open. This, then...was what the older girls had whispered and giggled over? Back at the Orphanage when they were culling vegetables? This was the rumored payment the mistress received from the handyman? She’d heard it resembled a squash. A cucumber. It might, but it was more weapon-like. And she hadn’t known it was this big. Her eyes flew from it to his face and back again.
“Oh, babe. Oh, Cherish. Sweet. Sweet. Cherish.”
He ran his hands along her thighs, cinched them about her waist. Cherish slid easily along his sheets as he pulled her to him. Matched them. And then he hesitated, poised for a moment in time, dangling her on the precipice of discovery. It was Cherish who continued the union, wrapping her legs about him and shoving downward. But then she stopped as she got not more excitement and bliss, but pain.
“Cherish. Sweet. You’re hot. Wet. But so small. So amazingly...tight.”
What was this? Nobody had mentioned pain. Cherish arched her head back, her fangs on full display as he continued entering her. She suffered. And endured.
“So...small. Wait. No. Cherish. It can’t be. No.”
Samson lowered, leaning on his arms, covering her. Cherish’s chin came down. She met his gaze. And her entire body pulsed upward, stopped as her flesh met his. Shivers followed, roving her skin. The reactions altered things. His hair-band had come undone, sen
ding hair streaming over his shoulders and sides, creating an enclosure that contained just the two of them. Chests heaving. Bare skin touching.
“You were a virgin...weren’t you?”
He was still sending pings of something where he continued pushing into her. She felt raw. Tender. But nothing near as painful as before.
She nodded.
He looked aside for a moment. Held his breath. His entire frame went taut. But his hips were still moving, pushing continually at where they’d joined. He looked back at her. Altered the elements with his look. She’d never seen anything like it. Amazement. Surprise. Chagrin.
“Oh, Cherish. Forgive me. I can’t halt this.”
“You’d halt it?”
“If I could. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had a virgin. I didn’t think they existed. Oh...shit.”
The curse was groaned and had a chuckle to it at the same time.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered.
“You...certain?”
“Oh, yes.”
Cherish licked her lips, and lifted in order to press her mouth to his again. Cutting flesh as she lapped at his lips. He joined her with a shuddered groan. Kissing. Licking. Fusing. And his next shove connected them. Fully. Cherish absorbed the size and fullness automatically. Her entire being too caught up in the sensation of his kiss. The pleasure. The enticement. The wonder.
His hips moved backward, but Cherish wrapped her legs about him, stopping him with her thighs. His chuckle almost broke the kiss, as he slid back into her. Enwrapped. Sheathed. Throbbing. Legions of goose bumps flowed across her skin, accompanying his movements as he pushed back in. Out again. Back in. Pushing this time with a force that jolted her body along the sheets. The next thrust was even stronger. Harder. And even deeper.
And it wasn’t remotely painful.
Cherish moved her kiss, trailing her tongue along his shoulder, her body subconsciously meeting each lunge he made, and each time he pulled back, she was there to meet him again. Samson lifted onto his arms again, gaining leverage. Power. Control.
His movements quickened, each time gaining more friction, more energy. And giving more thrill. Their movements grew in power. Strength. Energy. The mattress began bouncing in rhythm, adding a creaking beat to the fray.
