Hot Nights, Dark Desires

by Eden Bradley

  Especially since he kept telling her how beautiful, how sexy she was, something she hadn’t heard in a long time. She craved the compliments and adoration like a drug, one she’d been forced to quit cold turkey.

  And here was a man who knew exactly the right things to say, the right way to look at her.

  He tore his mouth away from hers and pushed her onto the floor. Male heat surrounded her, engulfed her, and his scent filled her as he stretched his long body alongside hers.

  “You’re perfect. So perfect.” His worshipful gaze swept over her body, and when he dipped his head to gently kiss her on one shoulder, she melted into a puddle.

  “Hex,” she sighed, and he pressed two fingers to her lips.

  “Shh…no names.”

  An odd request, but as long as he kept kissing his way across her shoulder and up her throat, he could ask for anything he wanted. He shucked out of his pants quickly, and spread her legs with one thick thigh. Like a prowling, big cat, he covered her, pressed his hard body against hers.

  “I’ve waited so long, Mattie…” He trailed off, his hands easing along her hip and around to cup her ass.

  Mattie? “What did you call me?”

  Hex blinked, a battle of emotions playing out on his features. The candles cast flickering light and shadow on the sharp angles of his face, bright warmth, darker confusion. Even his eyes seemed to shine and wane, flashing between the seductiveness of aged bourbon to a murky, smoky color full of secrets.

  “Brenna.” His voice, raspy, like he’d been screaming for hours, sent shivers up her spine. “Shit. The ghost…he’s talking about his lover—” He broke off with a growl, teeth bared, eyes closed as if he was in pain.

  “Damn you,” she shouted to the rafters. “Leave him alone.” It wasn’t enough that the bastard messed with her career, he had to mess with her love life too.

  Not that love had anything to do with what was going on between her and Hex. This was about putting her life back together. About forgetting her troubles for a few precious moments.

  She ran her hands down his back, stroking the smooth, hot skin that jumped beneath her fingers. Knotted muscles gave way only slightly as she kneaded his shoulders, coaxing him to relax and focus on pleasure. “Ignore him. Don’t let him interrupt this.”

  “You don’t understand.” He swore, hissed, and then suddenly his expression softened and his eyes once again brimmed with a look of worship and blatant hunger that made her stomach flip-flop. “I’m going to make love to you, and he’s not going to stop me.”

  “Good,” she whispered. “God, I hate this paranormal crap.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  Before she could argue, his hand slipped between her legs, his mouth tipping up in a satisfied smile when he encountered her swollen, dewy sex. Heat shot through her in a lashing whip as he parted her labia, allowing the sultry air to swirl across her aching flesh. She whimpered and squirmed, raked her nails over his hard biceps to let him know she wanted more.

  His touch smoothed inward, and the feather-light strokes with two fingers on either side of her clit made her quiver in anticipation. When his thumb brushed her hypersensitive nub, just barely, she hummed in approval and impatience.

  “That’s it, my greedy little bear-cat.” His voice was dark and rough and it rumbled through her like a sensual growl.

  “You say the oddest things…oh! Oh, yes.”

  She arched into his hand, gasping at the sweet burn of friction as he pushed a couple of fingers inside her. Her pussy clenched and pulsed, and she felt a rush of moisture bloom around his knuckles. Spreading her legs wider, she writhed, chasing his thumb because she needed his hot touch in the right place.

  He denied her, instead using his talented fingers to trace her feminine tissues, teasing and skimming but never hitting the sweet spot. Oh, he was devious, watching her reactions as he played, his gaze burning and so full of desire she wondered how he could endure the leisurely pace he’d set.

  “More. Please.” She dug her fingernails into his skin, her frustration roaring through her like a hurricane.

  Nostrils flaring, he looked deeply into her eyes. “Anything for you.”

  Heat pooled low in her chest. Never had anyone focused on her so single-mindedly. It both excited and frightened her, because she could grow used to that kind of attention.

  His thumb spread her cream upward, circled her throbbing clit as he thrust his fingers in and out. Her body gripped him, sucked him deeply inside as she grew wild with need. She couldn’t control the way she rocked into him, rubbed against him like a sex-starved feline, and at this point, she didn’t care.

  “God, you’re good at this,” she breathed.

  He didn’t pause to respond. Instead, he stroked her, laved her breasts with his tongue and then blew cool air across her nipples. The little nubs stiffened and puckered, aching for attention. He seemed to know, suckling each in turn, drawing her flesh into the warm depths of his mouth.

  He was gentle, more so than she’d have expected. Every velvet touch, every tender flick of his tongue on her flesh made her want to whimper with ecstasy.

  The smooth slide of his fingers as he pulled them out of her felt good, but not nearly as good as the sensation of his cock slipping between her folds to rub her clit on each slow pass between her legs.

  Exquisite tingling sensations shot through her, overloading at her core and streaking out to nerve endings all over her body.

  “Condom.” She gripped his shoulders, the broad expanse of muscle flexing as he rocked against her. “We need a condom. Do you have one in your pocket?” Please let him have one.

  He reached for his pants without leaving her, and after a moment of fumbling, held up a foil packet.

  Thank God. She was on the pill, and didn’t keep condoms handy. She’d left those with Nicky, figuring the cheating son of a bitch needed them more than she did.

  Going up on his knees above her, Hex settled the rubber over the blushing head of his cock.

  “Let me.”

  She sat up and took his shaft in her palm. It jerked at her touch, pulsed and swelled as she rolled the condom down his hard length. His groan vibrated all the way to his cock. It was beautiful—a dusky rose column marbled with bulging veins, and so thick she couldn’t close her entire fist around it no matter how hard she tried, how hard she squeezed. And stroked. And caressed his sac, which drew up tight as she gently scraped her nails along the seam between the heavy balls inside. When she cupped them, rolled them tenderly in her palm, he threw his head back and sucked in a harsh breath.

  “Yes…”

  She smoothed one hand down her belly and between her legs, where she coated a finger in her slick cream. The temptation to stay there and play, to give herself the relief she needed, was nearly overwhelming.

  Instead, she used her finger to coat the base of his sac, creating a slick, hot friction as she stroked. His body strained, each individual muscle starkly outlined beneath his golden skin. At his sides, his hands clenched and unclenched, as though he wanted to touch her but was too distracted by what she was doing between his legs.

  She worked her thighs against each other, trying to ease the ache at her center. Silky honey began to flow, and wow, she didn’t think she’d ever been this turned on.

  “You are exquisite, mon trésor.”

  Heart fluttering at the words, she lay back on the cool hardwood floor and spread her legs in invitation. “I didn’t think you’d been in New Orleans so long. You have an accent when you’re worked up.”

  His body went taut, all the sinewy muscles freezing hard. “Dammit.” He tossed his head from side to side, his lips drawn back into a silent snarl. “Not…me.” Panting, he fell forward, buried his face in her neck as though exhausted. “Do you want this? Do you want…me…to take you? Because I need it. Need you.”

  Emotion flooded her. The intimacy shattered her. She’d given him an open invitation, but he wasn’t taking advantage. How long had
it been since any man cared what she wanted?

  Any doubts she’d had about having sex with him were dispelled with his whispered words.

  “Yes. Oh, yes.” She wrapped her legs around his waist so his weight settled fully on top of her. “Make me feel beautiful again.”

  He groaned, his body trembling. When he lifted his head, the strange shifts in color and emotion were back in his eyes, an internal war she didn’t understand. “Thank you. I can’t…hold on.”

  Taking his shaft in hand, she guided him inside her, feeling a sizzle as his finely textured cock stretched her silken walls. “I can’t hold on either.” Her orgasm hovered hot, close.

  A raw curse fell from his lips, followed by a sigh, as though he’d accepted his fate. He sank fully into her.

  “Oh, yeah,” he murmured into her hair. “You feel so good.”

  She moaned in agreement as he pumped his hips, slowly, letting her savor the sensation of release as it coiled in her loins, waiting for just the right angle, just the right speed.

  The floor bit into her back but she didn’t care. Couldn’t care. All that mattered was how Hex held her tenderly, whispered hot, sexy, naughty things in her ear.

  Slipping one hand low, he caught her buttocks and lifted her into his thrusts. She strained to meet his rhythm, which grew faster, more frantic, matching his breathing.

  He pounded into her, the slap of hot flesh on hot flesh such a raw, base sound, but one that reached deep inside to excite the female animal in her. She wanted more…she sensed the power in him, sensed that he was holding back.

  “Harder.”

  A low growl rumbled in his chest. He hammered into her, obeying her command, but still, his body remained taut, his strength leashed. He lifted her hips higher, driving so deep her womb rippled as he ground against her, his balls rubbing the delicate skin behind her sex. Lightning bolts of pleasure streaked from her tailbone to the back of her skull.

  “Hex, yes, oh, God, yes!” She came in an intense rush of pleasure, her hips bucking, her thighs trembling, her blood thundering in her ears.

  His cock drove into her harder, faster. His fingers dug into her shoulders with bruising force, all trace of tenderness gone, replaced by raw, primal passion. “Say my name when you come again. Say it now.”

  Unable to think, she responded with a scream, crying out his name as he swelled inside her. He kept pumping, long after it was over, catapulting her to yet another violent release. Waves of ecstasy slammed into her, turning her inside out and leaving her legs quivering in their scissor-lock around his waist.

  Finally, as the last of the spasms melted away, he collapsed on top of her, his breathing ragged, matching hers. His hand shook as he stroked her hair. “I’m sorry. Shit, Brenna. I’m so sorry.”

  Sorry? He’d just given her the most—and best—orgasms she’d ever had in a single night, and he was sorry?

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about. That damned ghost is the one who should be sorry. Trying to talk to you—”

  “He wasn’t talking to me.” He lifted his head, his eyes clear, sad and at the same time sparking with anger. “He was talking through me.”

  “You mean…while we were having sex?”

  “Before that.” He rolled off her, his sculpted body gleaming with sweat as he lay on his back. “He was trying to get into me, but I got rid of him when we…when we started.”

  Suddenly feeling exposed, she grabbed her tank top and held it to her breasts. “How did you get rid of him?”

  He didn’t look at her.

  Oh, God. Chills shot up her spine. “The sex.”

  “Joining with someone strengthens—”

  “The protective aura,” she whispered. “When two people are joined, it’s harder for an entity to break in.” Her mom had taught her way more than she’d ever wanted to know, and right now she definitely wished she was ignorant about the paranormal world.

  Something reached up from the hollow hole in her gut and cut off her breath. The battle she’d seen in his eyes…that had been real, not some emotional thing going on in his head. He’d truly been fighting for control of his body.

  And he’d used hers to win the battle.

  Her breath whooshed out of her lungs in a painful rush, and she started to shake. “You weren’t making love to me because you wanted me. You were fucking me to protect yourself.”

  Hex moved with the speed and grace of a predator, had her in his arms before she could resist, his mouth against her ear. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Yeah, right.” She tore away from him. “I need a shower.”

  “Brenna?”

  “Don’t.” She gathered her clothes and darted up the stairs, feeling like a complete idiot. Her mother had been able to feel a spirit’s presence a mile away, but Brenna couldn’t tell when one was trying to possess the man whose hands were all over her.

  Tears stung her eyes as she ducked into the bathroom. The man who’d looked at her with adoration and hunger in his eyes, who had brought her to the most powerful, amazing orgasms of her life, had been screwing her to fend off a ghost.

  Not because he wanted her.

  CHAPTER

  Three

  Hex lay on his back against the hard oak floor for a few minutes after Brenna left, catching his breath, coming down from the orgasm that had rocked through him as though it had been years since he’d taken a woman.

  He’d known it would be like that with Brenna. From the first time he’d touched the naked picture of her, he had felt her right down in his soul.

  Hands behind his head, he stared at the cracked ceiling and the way the flickering candlelight threw dancing shadows. He had no doubt Brenna would’ve already kicked him out on his ass if she didn’t need his help so badly. And he’d be more than happy to go, right now, if he could lift his damn head off the floor.

  He knew why he’d promised to help her in the first place—it was why he always agreed to help. This was his job, his calling, his livelihood…the thing he both feared and craved, the high he needed. He’d been studying her for months, had found himself unquestionably drawn to her pictures, and for a bigger reason than her beauty.

  Helping Brenna meant taking himself to the edge, and while he didn’t mind being there, he wasn’t all that sure he’d be able to pull himself back this time.

  The kitchen door swung open and Brenna emerged, dressed in a man’s long-sleeved, button-down shirt and boxers, and approached him tentatively.

  She still looked confused and angry, but she was also scared. “Are you all right? Do you need anything?”

  “I’m okay, Brenna. What about you?” He kept his tone low and even, soothing.

  She responded by coming closer and sitting on the floor next to him. “I’ve been better.”

  Something upstairs creaked and she jumped slightly. Unconsciously, he crossed his arms over his chest so he could touch the markings on his biceps. Immediately, his breathing calmed, and as much as he hated depending on them, he was grateful to have them there.

  “What are those?” She was staring at his arms and the markings as if for the first time. She’d been touching his biceps earlier, digging her fingers into them as he’d pumped into her, but probably hadn’t realized just what they were. Now she reached out gingerly to trace the waved lines with a fingertip, and it was as if her touch zinged straight to his groin. “They’re not tattoos.”

  “They’re tribal markings,” he said through his teeth, hating feeling helpless—the way he always did after a physical encounter with a ghost. Helping one cross over was exhausting in its own way, but nothing like this.

  And still, she continued to caress the markings, which stood out in sharp contrast to the unblemished skin. They encircled each biceps in an intricate and definite pattern.

  “Where did you get these done?”

  “They’re courtesy of an indigenous people who live along the Amazon Basin.” He paused, ran his tongue over his bottom lip slowly—he was growing
aroused again by her touch, hadn’t ever really come down after he’d taken her. Could’ve taken her over and over again, on the floor, the chaise—and the way things were going, he still might.

  “How did they put them there?” Her finger brought a heat like lightning beneath the surface of his skin, much the same way he’d felt when the markings were first put there. He shifted as though that would make the sting disappear, but it only intensified.

  “They were carved and burned.”

  “Didn’t that hurt?”

  They’d given him something to drink first, some potent mix of roots and God-knows-what-else that helped him to fly. When the burning ritual commenced, he’d been caught in that strange place where extreme pain cut off any feeling. “It was worth it.”

  “It’s some kind of protection spell, isn’t it?”

  “The tribe called me the ghost king and gave me the markings so another possession couldn’t happen—at least not fully.”

  “Another possession?” She stared at him, her eyes soft—understanding, the anger draining away. “You’ve been possessed before?”

  He paused for a second before answering, realized he’d never told anyone outside of ACRO and the tribe this story. Never trusted anyone to see his vulnerability. But Brenna, she was as close to vulnerable as he’d been, and perhaps in as much danger. “Yes. It tries, but it can’t get fully inside—the markings force it out. It can’t take over unless I invite it in.”

  “But tonight, it nearly happened again—you told me that damned ghost got inside of you.”

  “It’s a full moon,” he said quietly. “That’s the one time of month I’m vulnerable. The markings fail and it’s up to me. The tribe feels that a man should be able to protect himself for twenty-four hours, to keep his mind strong.” The full moon was one of the reasons he’d fought coming to Brenna’s house, but he’d been dragged here anyway by a force bigger than both of them. Now he’d have to depend on the force of their joined auras for full protection until the morning.

  “How do I know you’re not possessed right now?”

  “I guess you’re going to have to take my word for it. And I told you before—I didn’t do anything with you I wasn’t planning on doing anyway. Been dreaming about that since I first got the pictures you sent me.” He ran a hand over the soft blond hair, pushed some off her cheek.