by Elana Brooks
Before he could reach for the light switch, she was on him. Her arms went around his neck and her mouth sought his, hungry and demanding. With a groan he fell into her embrace. It felt as if he’d been waiting a million years for this moment, not a few short hours. His hands roamed her body as she explored his, sensation exploding wherever his skin contacted hers. They tore at each other’s clothes, desperate for more touch. His shirt landed on the floor, quickly followed by hers. Her bare torso pressed into his chest. Her hands stroked his back and kneaded his shoulders. He was drunk, dizzy, his senses drowning in the wonder of her. He moved his mouth to her neck and along her collarbone, tasting the salty sweetness of her skin. She hummed with pleasure and arched against him. He nuzzled the valley between her breasts and turned to lick the taut curve emerging from satiny fabric.
He raised his hand to push the obstruction away, but hesitated. From somewhere deep within a last twinge of caution protested. It wasn’t too late. If he stopped now and sent her away, he wouldn’t technically have violated the rules that bound him.
“Yes, please,” she begged, reaching for the bra strap and shoving it off her shoulder. The cup peeled down, revealing a perfect round swell tipped by a dark nipple. Steve bent to take it in his mouth, knowing he was lost. He caressed the taut firmness with his tongue. Rosalia gasped and pressed harder into him. He found the bra’s clasp, unhooked it, and pulled the garment off the rest of the way, freeing her other breast as well. He transferred his attention to it for a while, then switched back, again and again until she was writhing and panting and he was throbbing with need.
Her hand went to the straining bulge in his pants, caressed and cupped it. Even through layers of fabric the sensation was so intense he gasped. Her fingers found his belt and worked the buckle loose. He fumbled to help her, but she pushed his hands away, claiming for herself the privilege of unbuttoning and unzipping his fly. She slid her hands around his hips and pushed his slacks down until they fell around his ankles. He kicked off his loafers and stepped out, catching her hands before they could dive into his boxers. “Bedroom,” he said hoarsely.
“Okay.” She stepped back, smiling impishly and looking him up and down. The tip of her tongue came out and licked her lips, slow and provocative. She stretched her arms over her head and threw her head back, making her breasts rise and exposing the hollow of her throat. “It always feels so good to get out of my bra at the end of the day.”
“You’re beautiful,” he told her. He reached for her hand and tore his eyes away from her body long enough to lead her into his bedroom and flip down the bedcovers.
She sat on the edge of his bed, unbuckled her sandals, and pulled them off. She rose, her hands going to the button of her jeans. He stepped forward. “Allow me.”
She spread her hands. He knelt before her and unfastened first the button, then the zipper. He slid her jeans over her softly rounded hips and down her legs, revealing a flat stomach and the dimple of her navel above black satin bikini panties. She stepped free of the denim and kicked it aside. He bent forward and kissed the smooth, shiny fabric where it disappeared between her legs. Her fingers tangled in his hair and pressed him closer, her hips thrusting forward. His hands cupped her buttocks as his tongue explored the contours concealed beneath the thin cloth. She moaned and gasped her pleasure, her voice rising and falling in response to his movements.
Abruptly she pushed him away. She shimmied out of her panties, then tugged him to his feet and fumbled with his underwear. “Now. Please. I can’t wait any longer.”
Steve stripped off his boxers. He felt strong and powerful and alive. Rosalia stroked his penis with a low hum of delight, sending fire surging through him. He reached for the drawer of his nightstand and dug a condom out of the box. Rosalia took it from him and tore the packet open. She rolled it onto him slowly and expertly, turning the precaution into a tantalizing bit of foreplay.
He lifted her onto the bed and climbed over her, pushing her legs apart with his knee. They fell eagerly open and her hips flexed to meet him. He explored her with his fingers, finding the opening of her vagina and guiding himself into place. He leaned forward and covered her mouth with his as he slid inside. She welcomed him above and below, tongue caressing his as her legs wrapped around his thighs and drew him tight against her.
He’d never felt so complete, so immersed in the experience, so at one with his partner. He slid in and out of her, every inch a new pleasure, every motion a new joy. She matched him stroke for stroke, her body arching and flexing, her hands kneading his shoulders and back and buttocks. He imagined he could feel her pleasure and she could feel his, both bodies and minds merging into a single spiraling vortex of bliss.
Her need guided his hands to her breasts. He massaged their curves and rolled her nipples. She came with a scream, arching against him and tightening around him. She came again as he drove toward his own climax, and again as he poured into her in a hot rush of shared release.
She panted in his ear, clinging to him when he would have rolled off. “Don’t go yet.”
He pushed up on his forearms. “I must be crushing you.”
“It feels good.” She drew him back down.
He didn’t understand how her petite frame could support his bulk without discomfort, but he eased his weight onto her. Her hard and soft places fit against his. He closed his eyes. Warm, contented lassitude stole over him, and he drifted into a half-waking dream. Heavy heat pressed him down, snug and safe, the weight reaching deep into his bones and muscles with a pressure that calmed and soothed.
He woke to the sensation of her fingertips on his temples, massaging slow gentle circles. “That’s right,” she murmured. “Open. Relax. Let go.” He had the oddest feeling it was his own voice speaking, his own fingers rubbing his lover’s temples, his own mind coaxing his shields lower, lower, lower…
He jerked away, his penis sliding from her body, cold air rushing between them. “What the hell are you doing?”
She blinked at him, pouting in annoyance. “You almost had it for a minute, there. Your shields got so thin I was sure I could help you drop them.” Her lips stretched into a lazy smile. “Maybe next time.”
His heart pounded in a way that had nothing to do with sex. His body was cold, freezing all the way down to his bones. He scrambled to his knees and backed away from the woman that had transformed in a blink from lover to threat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She grinned, playful and teasing. “Weren’t you paying attention? Your shields got so weak, our minds touched. We were feeling each other’s pleasure.” The corners of her eyelids crinkled. “I hope mine felt as good to you as yours did to me.”
He fumbled to catch the condom before it could slide from his deflating cock and make a mess. “That’s not possible.” He scrambled away from her and off the bed, heading to the bathroom.
She followed him. “Really? Even after you experienced telepathy you’re still trying to deny it’s real?”
“I didn’t experience anything! I didn’t feel—“ The memory of her orgasms surging through his body nearly overwhelmed him. “It was my imagination!”
She put her hands on her hips and scowled. “The hell it was.” Her eyes narrowed. “You were broadcasting so hard I don’t think I could have blocked you if I’d wanted to. Through shields. You must be ridiculously strong. Stronger than me, stronger than Abuela, even. Easily strong enough to block me or anyone else with real talent who attempted your little test.”
He hurled the condom into the trash and grabbed a washcloth. Through clenched teeth he said, “Believe what you want. I am not telepathic.” He scrubbed himself clean.
“Whatever.” She pushed him aside and went to the toilet, sitting down with complete disregard for his presence. He turned away to give her a little privacy.
By the time she was done he’d calmed down enough to regain control of his emotions. He handed her a clean washcloth. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to argue w
ith you. That was the most amazing sex I’ve ever had in my life. Let’s not spoil it.”
The smile returned to her face. “It was, wasn’t it?” She wet the washcloth and cleaned herself.
“Nothing else has even come close.” He waited until she dropped the washcloth into the sink with the one he’d used, then caught her hands and pulled her against his body. “I want more.”
“Me, too.” She wrapped her arms around his waist.
Desire was returning more quickly than usual, but it would still be a while before he was ready for a second round. “Would you like a drink first?”
“What have you got?” She followed him back to his bedroom.
He dug in his closet and emerged with two robes. He tossed her one and donned the other. “Beer, wine, a few harder things. What would you like?”
“Do you have the fixings for margaritas?”
“Who in Los Angeles doesn’t?” He went to the kitchen, got the tequila from the liquor cabinet, and pulled a bottle of margarita mix and a couple of limes from the refrigerator. “Want me to get fancy and salt your glass?”
“Please. I love the combination of salty and sweet.” She came up behind him and watched him prepare the drinks.
When he finished, he handed hers to her and sampled his own. She lifted the glass to her lips and sipped. “Ah, wonderful.”
He loved the way her every little movement, even the simplest and most mundane, was imbued with sexuality. Her hips swayed as she walked to living room and sank onto the couch. Other women he’d been with, even the most beautiful, had exhibited varying degrees of shyness or self-consciousness. Not Rosalia. Her body radiated sensual joy.
He dropped beside her. She leaned against him. They drank in silence. He swigged the last swallow of his, took the glass she gave him, and fixed them both a second round.
Pleasant tipsy warmth invaded his mind. He put his empty glass down and started massaging her shoulders. She leaned back against him, purring her enjoyment. His hands wandered to more intimate places. She shot him a teasing look. “Ready again so soon?”
“You have that effect on me.” He took her hand and placed it so she could feel exactly how ready he was.
She gave a throaty laugh and turned to kiss him. This time she moved down his chest and pushed his robe aside to access his nipples. She licked and sucked, sending surges of heat through him.
She slid lower and took his penis in her mouth. Steve closed his eyes and gave himself up to pure pleasure.
She took him close, but stopped just short of driving him over the edge. “Come back to bed.”
“Whatever you want,” he said thickly. He stumbled after her. Her hands pushed and pulled, guiding him where she wanted him, and he complied with dazed willingness. She laid him on his back in the bed, rolled a new condom on, and climbed to straddle him. He watched, spellbound, as her beautiful body rose and settled, her hand guiding his penis back inside her. Back where it belonged, the only place it had ever or would ever belong.
She put her hands on his chest and leaned forward, looking into his eyes. “Let’s try this again. Will you let me help you open your mind?”
He would move heaven and earth to give her anything she wanted. He stared into her eyes, which seemed far deeper than could be physically possible. Surely he hadn’t drunk enough to be hallucinating?
It didn’t matter. “Yes.”
Her smile rewarded him far beyond what his agreement could possibly be worth. “Wonderful.” She rose on her knees and slid down. Flames washed over him, dissolving the boundaries of his body. “Relax. Don’t fight me. Open your soul and let me in.”
She was a glowing golden goddess, her eyes ablaze with dazzling light. It flowed into him, over and around the terror that had locked his mind tight shut all his life, surrounding it, soothing it, diminishing it to insignificance next to the glory that awaited if he could do as she asked.
She lifted and sank again, swirling the flames higher. He wanted desperately to grant her the entrance she desired. There was nothing to fear, surely? Nothing waited to attack if he let down his defenses and made himself vulnerable. He was safe. He trusted her to bring only joy and pleasure in with her. The demons of his nightmares were imaginary. Rosalia was real.
It wasn’t easy. He felt as if he were fighting to turn a crank that had rusted in place over years of neglect. Something gave, and it rotated a quarter turn. Rosalia crooned in delight. “Yes. Like that. Oh, yes…”
Her sweet, hot pleasure flooded in through the narrow gap. Steve seized the crank and thrust all his strength against it. For a long moment it resisted. With awful certainty he knew it was stuck and would turn no farther. He couldn’t bear to come so close yet be denied full union. He summoned every scrap of will he possessed and threw it into one final effort.
The crank spun. His shields crashed down. Rosalia gasped. She was there, in his mind, her thoughts his, his thoughts hers. He could feel himself in her, and her feeling him in her, simultaneously. Her words sounded in his head without traveling through his ears. Dios mio. My god, Steve, you’re amazing. Even more than I expected.
Her mind was as lovely as her body, rich and deep and swift. My god, Rosalia. I never imagined.
Their bodies moved together, doubled pleasure soaring into a climax that swept through them both. He arched with Rosalia and she burst with him. They cried out in one voice.
The orgasm passed, but the union remained. He opened his eyes and regarded her in wonder. “You were right. It’s real.”
Her eyes danced. Her lips remained still, but he heard her answer. It’s real.
Before he could wrap his understanding around everything that meant, Rosalia stiffened. Her eyes unfocused. They moved, tracking something Steve couldn’t see, even in her thoughts. Her forehead wrinkled and her mouth opened slightly. Fear gripped Steve, but he couldn’t move. He didn’t dare interfere.
Rosalia blinked, and her eyes focused again. “Dragons?” she said, puzzled. “I saw dragons with six wings. Only they breathed water instead of fire. They flew through the stars, exhaling great fountains that pooled into an ocean swirling with storms. Look at the images. Do they mean anything to you?”
Her mind shoved the horrifically familiar pictures into his. Hers were fancifully surreal, in contrast to the cold realism of his, but they were unmistakably the same creatures.
The creatures that had terrorized his sleep for twenty years.
He slammed all his defenses back into place. “Get out.” He shoved her off him, shuddering with loathing. “Get away from me. I don’t know how you did it, hypnotism or drugs or—but I don’t care. Get the hell out of my house!”
He staggered from the bed, scooped her jeans from the floor, and threw them at her. “What are you waiting for? I told you to get out!”
She gaped at him, bewildered. “Steve, I don’t understand—“
“You lied to me!” he bellowed. He couldn’t control the whirling storm of rage and terror that consumed him. He didn’t want to. “There are no dragons! There never have been. They’re fake. You’re a fake. You tricked me into trusting you when all the time you were planning to stab me in the back.” He snatched up her black satin panties and hurled them at her. “I won’t fall for it. I refuse to believe your lies. Now get out!” He grabbed her by the arm, hauled her off the bed, and dragged her toward the front door.
Fury replaced her confusion. She yanked hard, trying to free herself, but his grip held. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“What I should have done the minute you started babbling psychotic bullshit.” He stopped in the entryway and scooped up her shirt and bra. “Put your clothes on and leave. I swear if you’re not out of my house in the next sixty seconds I’m going to call the police and have you committed.”
She grabbed her clothes and clutched them in her fists, magnificently naked as she screamed at him. “How dare you? Get your hands off of me, you fucking son of a bitch! I unlocked your psychic pow
ers, and this is how you repay me?”
Ice water doused Steve’s flaming anger, turning it cold and bitter. “Psychic powers do not exist. You’re a con artist. I won’t be your mark any more.” He clenched his fists to keep himself from slapping her or shaking her or something worse. “I should have known it was too good to be true. You play the happy slut like a master. When all the time it was nothing but an act. I swear, you deserve an Oscar.”
She stared at him, shaking with fury. Abruptly she started dressing, stepping into her panties and hooking her bra with trembling fingers. “You idiot. How can anyone be so blind?”
He opened the door, not caring that he was naked and she was in only her underwear. “Out.”
“Not until I’m decent. Close the door.”
He wrenched it open wider. “Close it yourself,” he sneered. “Don’t you claim to have telekinesis as well?”
“You’re blocking it, of course.” She yanked on her jeans.
“Of course,” he said, voice heavy with sarcasm.
“And my telepathy, too. Otherwise I’d knock down those shields and burn your brain full of a million visions of dragons. Why the hell do they frighten you so much? Did a lizard bite you when you were a kid or something?”
“That’s none of your business,” he growled.
She pulled her shirt over her head. “They’re coming, you know. That was a precognitive vision I had.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I don’t know what the dragons symbolize, but whatever they are, they’re on their way right now.” She screwed up her face for a moment. “They’ll get here in about, oh, ten years. Give or take.”
Terror deeper than any he’d ever experienced clawed Steve’s gut. “You’re wrong!” he shouted. “You’re lying, you fucking bitch!” He seized her upper arms and threw her out the door. “Get the hell away from me and never come back!”
She stumbled to a halt. “I need my shoes, you damn bully.”
He grabbed them and hurled them at her, first one, then the other. She caught the first one, but the second thumped into her belly. It was a light sandal, but Steve had thrown with the force and accuracy of his football days, so it made a solid impact. She grunted.
