by A. S. Green
“You want to watch?” Excitement tingled down her arms. To have Alex in the same room with her, close enough to touch… But not touching…
“I do.”
A ragged breath raked through her, and her hand went back to its business. Alex’s eyes held hers in the mirror. The heat of his stare, the flare of his nostrils as her arousal filled the tiny room… God, it was so fricking hot.
Within seconds, she closed her eyes as her orgasm blazed through her like a backdraft of flames. She bit down hard on her lower lip, failing to keep a groan from sliding out of her, unable to be contained. She arched into it and cupped her sex, riding out the waves of pleasure until the last spasm left her body.
When it was over, she lowered her chin and met her own heavily lidded eyes in the mirror.
Alex’s gaze dropped to her bottom lip, and something akin to amusement flickered in his eyes. “You cut your own lip. You’re bleeding.”
Ainsley’s hand rose shakily to her mouth, but he grabbed her wrist and forced her hand back to the sink. He was so close now, his hips pressed against her rear as he reached around her and drew the pad of his middle finger across her bottom lip.
She watched Alex’s reflection in fascination as he put that finger into his mouth, closed his lips around it, and sucked.
Sweet suffering Jesus…
His eyes closed. His chest expanded. Ainsley tried to straighten, but he squeezed her waist with his other hand and froze her in place. “I knew your blood would be sweet, Ainsley. I suspect that’s true of all of you.”
He bent over her, keeping their bodies flush. Then he bunched up her thick hair and moved it over one shoulder, exposing the left side of her neck.
“What are you doing?” She thought she knew. He was going to claim her. He was going to make her his. He was going to take that leap, just like Callum had leapt for his Ellen.
That realization grabbed hold of her soul. It felt right. But more than that—despite a lifetime of reservations—it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Alex skated his teeth down her neck, and there was a delicious tickle along the sensitive skin, followed by another rush of heat between her legs.
“You want to know what I’m going to do?”
“Yes,” she said, panting now.
“I’m going to keep you bent over this sink, for one, so hold on tight.”
Oh my god…
“Stay still.”
Ainsley wanted to cry out. Her head spun with lust and anticipation, and she was so aroused her legs began to tremble as her sex ached with need.
Alex quickly backed off, putting an inch of cool air between their bodies, and Ainsley dropped her head forward as the pressure receded like a wave pulling back from shore.
Guard your heart, she thought. This is dangerous. But she didn’t care. It was far too late for caring. She felt his hand between her legs.
“Just like I imagined. So soft… Drenched.” His voice was raw, confessing how much control was required to keep himself restrained. “Open your legs for me. That’s it.” He slipped a finger inside, then another.
No one, besides herself of course, had ever touched her there, so it was no wonder how quickly she responded.
Keeping her eyes locked on Alex’s reflection, she watched as he withdrew his hand from between her legs and once more brought his glistening fingers to his mouth.
His lips parted, showing the faintest hint of razor-sharp teeth, then he sucked off her arousal, closing his eyes with another relishing groan.
“I’m getting on my knees,” he said, his voice thick and gravelly. “You good with that?”
She didn’t know how he was going to bite her neck if he was on his knees, but the spasm that ran down her legs told her not to worry. He had the situation handled.
When he lowered himself behind her, she thanked God she was holding onto the sink, because it was the only thing keeping her upright.
“I’m going to kiss the backs of your knees, maybe bite the insides of your thighs. Not hard,” he assured her. “I won’t break the skin. But then I’m going to spread you open because…”
“Because what?”
“Because I was right about your blood not being the only thing sweet about you.”
That overwhelming wave of pleasure came rushing back to shore, making Ainsley’s legs tremble uncontrollably.
“No,” he said on a growl. “When I tell you to. Now, hold on.”
She did what he said, and he shimmied her panties down her legs, all the way to the floor. She stepped her right foot out, leaving them around her left ankle.
He didn’t kiss the backs of her knees like he said he would. Instead, he tickled them with the tips of his fingers, then ran his knuckles up her thighs before turning his hands and palming her bottom, caressing the cheeks in sweeping circles before separating them to expose her most delicate flesh.
“Oh…fuck,” he murmured. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
Ainsley was hot and needy. She could feel the heavy weight of his stare on her sex.
She needed to tell him to stop. This kind of intimacy…it was too much, too dangerous. He could ruin her so easily.
“Ainsley…” he whispered, almost sounding like a plea. He put pressure on her lower back, encouraging her to arch, then he kissed her hip, her ass, the back of her thighs, spreading her wider.
“I need to taste more of you, down my throat.” His warm breath eased the ache.
“Alex. I—”
No more overtures, his mouth was on her.
“Oh, God.”
His tongue stroked through her folds, wreaking havoc on her nervous system. He groaned and licked her again. “Christ. You kill me.”
Ainsley arched away from the mirror, and her hands gripped the basin so hard she didn’t know why the porcelain didn’t crack.
Alex’s fingers gripped her bottom just as hard, and she reveled in the lapping drags of his tongue, the penetrating exploration of his mouth, the expert flicks creating a sublime chaos of sensation. There seemed to be no end to his focus or technique. If this was a language, he was a native speaker, and she submitted to his pure and utter dominion.
The torture didn’t go on forever though. She was teetering on the edge within seconds, and Alex was plainly aware.
“Come for me,” he demanded, blowing cool air against her swollen flesh. “Do it again.”
With one more light flick of his tongue, a crack of energy crashed through her, her orgasm pulsing through her sex, thrumming in her blood, sparking in her eyes, bringing so much destructive power she bucked against his mouth and lost her balance. She was only saved from knocking her teeth out on the sink by Alex catching her chin in his hand.
“Steady there, my queen.”
Slowly, she leveled out, and when she opened her eyes, she was undone by the beauty that surrounded her. Alex was still on his knees, his reflection one of awed wonder, his eyes adoring.
“You are so powerfully beautiful,” he said. “There are no words.”
Ainsley closed her eyes and heard a ripping sound, then felt a tug at her ankle. He shoved something into his pocket, then slowly, as if not trusting her balance, Alex eased her skirt down over her ass and rose to his feet.
“Alex?” she asked, her voice rough.
“Yes?”
“You’re not going to tell me that that didn’t happen, are you? That it wasn’t supposed to happen?”
Even though she knew she’d someday regret the intimacy shared between them, she couldn’t bear for him to feel the same.
Alex stilled. She could tell he was clenching his teeth by the way his skin drew tight over his cheekbones. Then he gently drew his fingers down the length of her arm. “That wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did.”
“And what was that? Exactly.”
“Plan B,” he said. Then he vanished. Tilted out with a snap of electricity.
Ainsley gasped and spun toward the door.
A second later, he tilted back. He slipped the strap of her backpack over her shoulder and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Has your professor texted?”
“No.”
“Home then?”
She nodded numbly.
He smiled. “Then sleep well.”
The next thing she knew, Alex yanked her against his hips and they were sucked into the same vortex he’d pushed her into earlier that evening. The tilt wiped any remaining pleasure from Ainsley’s skin; it pulled at her bones and seemed to turn her inside out.
It might have taken hours, or perhaps it was only seconds. But the next thing she knew, she was standing in her living room. Pantyless. And alone.
21
Thursday morning, 11:00 a.m.
Thorn Enterprises
Alex thought he knew hell. He’d been living there for over two decades, hadn’t he? But this…this was some new level shit.
Last night, not even the refuge of his room—some sixty feet from the theater—had been enough to keep him away from Ainsley. He’d been able to track the beats of each movie, just by the chemical compounds seeping into the hallway and filtering under his bedroom door. He’d known when Ainsley thought something was funny, or when she was sad, and he’d definitely known when she was turned on.
So when he’d heard footsteps, a door closing, and a familiar soft moan, there’d been no holding himself back.
That tiny closet of a room became his confessional and in it, on his knees, he revealed his every sinful thought, his every weakness. And today Ainsley was using his confession against him. She’d make the worst kind of priest.
It had been bad enough the last two days with her queenly energy and tight skirts, but today she was wearing a short, lightweight atrocity that fluttered and floated as she walked. Worse yet, she had a knack for passing the floor vent every time the HVAC system turned on, each burst of air lifting that barely there material to new and dangerous heights.
And if he thought he’d get some reprieve when she returned to her desk, well forget about it. She sat directly across from him, constantly crossing, and uncrossing her legs. She had to be doing it on purpose. No one was that clueless. She was probably reveling in how he watched her, because her restless scent allowed no secrets between them.
So, how in the hell was he supposed to get any work done? He should have moved her desk back onto the floor, or at least turned it so he didn’t have to face her.
Ainsley bent over the report she was reviewing and chewed the end of her pencil, the sadist.
When she uncrossed her legs for the umpteenth time and let her knees fall apart, it was no surprise how quickly his body responded. One glimpse of her thighs, and his cock was thickening, angling over his hip, trapped by his belt.
Alex closed his eyes. God, he wanted…he wanted her naked in his bed, her glorious hair spread across his pillow, her body slick and pliable against his fingers. He wanted her moaning his name as he made her come, then he wanted to hold her until morning, her scent in his nostrils, her energy seeping through his skin.
The erotic images of him parting her thighs, the scent of her arousal, and the swoosh of blood rushing under her skin.… He wanted to taste her again…drink from her…claim her.
No. Not claim her. But when he looked at her and realized he would kill anyone—fae or human—who tried to hurt her, or to love her like he wanted to love her, he knew how close to disaster she’d brought him.
Alex groaned at the sheer selfishness of his feelings. He had a clan to consider. If he identified her as a queen for the Black Castle—their ancient enemy—if they lost Ainsley, they were all as good as dead.
He palmed his shaft through his trousers, and winced against the throbbing pain. Why hadn’t he stuck with Plan A? Why hadn’t he had the willpower to stop himself from leaving his bedroom? Now he could taste her blood in his memory—as delicious as everything else about her—and that was making a bad situation worse.
He grabbed himself more firmly, made a few clicks on his computer, and pulled up the P&L statement from last month. What would be the point of any of this if he lost focus again? He had more people to think of than just himself. Already this morning, his clan had looked so happy, healthy, hopeful…
By now, Alex’s trousers had turned into a tourniquet, strangling the life out of his weeping cock. He sent a few emails while stroking himself as inconspicuously as possible. He’d hoped it would take the edge off, but clearly he was off his head.
He should take care of things in his private bathroom.
No. Bend your queen over your desk. You’ve already got the devil to pay. Claim her. Claim her as yours.
Alex ignored the selfish thoughts and gave himself another hard stroke, squeezing the thick blunt tip. Christ, what the hell was he doing?
He looked up, and Ainsley was no longer at her desk. He heard a soft click, and she was at the door, locking it. Her eyes were on him, and they clearly had been for a while. Oh, how the tables had turned.
“Don’t stop,” she said softly, crossing the room toward him.
“Ainsley.”
She stood in front of his desk, placed her hands wide on the surface, and leaned over his workspace. Her eyes went immediately to what he’d been trying to hide.
“You watched me. Let me see you finish.”
The mixture of excitement and utter defeat was such a confusing cocktail that, at first, Alex didn’t know what to do, but the energy emanating from her had him quickly undoing his pants.
Ainsley made a small sound of surprise when he revealed himself, and the edgy notes of her apprehension had him stroking in earnest, shafting himself from root to tip until his blood boiled under the skin.
Ainsley never took her eyes off him. She licked her lips. His climax coiled in his balls and at the base of his spine.
And suddenly a sharp buzz filled the room as Caroline’s voice came through the intercom. “Mr. Campbell, there’s a gentleman here to see you. He says he’s your brother.”
Alex’s eyes jerked to the clock on his computer screen. “Fuck.”
“He says you were expecting him.”
Yeah, but Alex hadn’t realized it was time already.
“Should I show him in, or would you like him to wait in the lobby?”
Ainsley’s mouth twisted as if she were trying to keep herself from smiling.
“This isn’t funny,” he growled.
She gave him the big eyes. “Isn’t it?”
Alex quickly zipped up his trousers, his erection lost.
“Should I go?” she asked.
“I think that would defeat the purpose of his visit.”
She lost the smile. “Who is it?”
“Rory.”
All the color left Ainsley’s face, and she took two steps backward. Alex had been expecting that, which was why he hadn’t told her sooner. In a flash, he was out from behind the desk.
She jumped in surprise at his speed, and Alex put his hands on her upper arms to calm her. “He’s out of isolation, and he’s in need of—”
“Blood?” Goosebumps popped up along her arms.
“Time with you.” Alex released her arms and returned to his desk. He pressed the intercom button on his phone. “Show him in, Caroline.”
Ainsley darted behind her desk, as if to use it as a barricade. Alex heard her subconscious message loud and clear. She doubted his ability to keep her safe.
“Easy now,” he said, unlocking the door. “It’ll be fine. This is a quiet, private space, and frankly it couldn’t wait until the end of the day. He’s been, by far, the worst off out of all of us. He needs some focused time with you.”
There was a soft knock at the door, then it opened. Caroline directed Rory inside with a sweep of her hand. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Caroline closed the door behind him.
Rory was clean shaven now, but his skin still held a grayish pallor. His nostrils flared as he drew in a breath of recognition. “My queen,” he said, taking a
knee.
Ainsley glanced at Alex, and he hoped the look he gave her was one of reassurance. His own gut was worried. He’d put this meeting off too long, especially when Rory struggled to get back on his feet.
“Hello,” Ainsley said, her voice wary.
Rory closed his eyes. His throat convulsed as if he found it difficult to swallow, then he rushed forward with an unexpected burst of desperation.
Alex was on him immediately, blocking his path with his hands pressed to Rory’s shoulders. “Pace yourself.”
“The air in here,” Rory said, not having to finish his thought. Ainsley’s earlier sense of lusty appreciation still lingered, but it was phasing into flavors of fear, stubbornness, and a thinner, not fully developed sense of duty.
“Maybe you should sit,” Alex said, addressing Rory.
“Is she as powerful as they said?” Rory asked, his eyes still locked on Ainsley and the awe in his voice unmistakable.
“I’m right here,” Ainsley said, pointedly. “You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not.”
The steadiness in her voice allowed Alex to ease his grip on Rory’s shoulders, and he couldn’t help the swell of pride that filled his chest. Ainsley never cowered for long.
“You can go back to what you were doing, Ainsley. Rory’s going to sit in the corner and soak it all in for the next hour. He won’t disturb you.”
Ainsley gave him a look that said, Doubtful. Then she glanced over at Rory, who was now breaking into a sweat.
Alex pulled out a chair from a small round conference table in the corner of the room. “Sit here, mo bhràthair. Deep breaths. She’ll have you back to normal in no time.”
Rory nodded while his chest rose and fell in rapid breaths.
Alex returned to his own desk. As soon as he took his seat, he met Ainsley’s eyes. If it had been hard to concentrate on his work before, this was uncharted territory.
Ainsley gave Rory another wary, sideways glance, then she bit her lip and focused on the papers in front of her. Her forehead furrowed in forced concentration. She was agitated—whether that was still from their earlier activities, the interruption of them, or her lingering fear of Rory, Alex couldn’t know for sure, but the chemicals in the air were like a pot of water, just on the edge of a simmer.
