by Emma Holly
"Just keep your hands where they are," he said hoarsely. "Don't let go, and let me do as I please."
"You're finally going to please yourself?"
"Yes," he gritted out.
"Good," she said with great decisiveness. "I'm looking forward to feeling you go."
She meant this when she said it, and once she had, she really couldn't begrudge him whatever he wanted to do. All the same, she couldn't restrain a squeak of surprise as he nudged her body rather more rearward than she'd been planning on.
"Shh," he said, his hands gently parting her bottom cleft. "Trust me to make this good."
It was hard not to, considering the skill he'd shown so far, but Zoe felt quite the neophyte as his thumbs pushed lubricant into her ass. He knows what he's doing, she told herself. This is going to be fine…
"Pull your knees up," he said. "You're going to want to give me room to work."
Lord, even his arrogance was arousing. She let him guide her into position, each leg bent up and angled to the side. The change immediately allowed his thumbs to slide farther in.
Okay, maybe this was going to be more than fine. Her hands clenched harder on the iron headboard as her breath rushed out. The sensation of him massaging those outer inches was much more pleasurable than she'd expected.
"You've never done this before," he whispered, and she could only shake her head.
The idea of being her first didn't seem to daunt him. He lowered his head until his parted lips brushed her shoulder.
"Good," he said, deliberately echoing her. "I need to claim some part of you tonight."
He could claim any part of her he wanted, but she didn't get a chance to tell him so. He'd slipped his thumbs free just then and put his sheathed cock behind her instead.
Oh, God, she thought as she felt the intimidating broadness of the head, and, Oh, God, yes an instant later.
She groaned as he began to push, her neck arching back against him helplessly. He was so big, not just the part of him that was breaching her, but his entire body. She felt overshadowed—both protected by the shield of him and vulnerable to his strength. This man could crush her, but he was acting like he didn't want her to break. The sounds he made, grunts of effort and enjoyment, caused her sex to liquefy anew. He slid his forearm between her and the mattress, surrounding her pussy in his hold. When one long finger slid inside her from the front, the combination of his snug warm grip and the more traditional intrusion demolished her resistance.
Every part of her relaxed at once.
"Oh, yes," he said as his cock suddenly sank into her all the way. "Oh, yes, love, that's what I want."
The instant he reached full penetration it was exactly what she wanted, too. The sheer size of him conquered her, the pressure on that tingling interior skin. When he began to move, his strokes were so protracted she felt as if her nerves were being hypnotized. The front of him bore close against her with every roll of his hips, his velvet skin enthralling hers, his free hand smoothing over her wherever it could reach. He was taking her with so much more than his cock, like a cat rubbing against her, skin and energy and tiny hairs prickling.
She began to gasp in time to his thrusts, her tension tightening until it hurt. He didn't have to speed up to increase the torment; he just pushed her and pushed her up against that wall of excitement without letting her slide back. Her clit became a separate entity, tortured by the very blood that caused it to distend. She felt him begin to tremble, but his shakes were nothing compared to hers. Desperate to go over, she wrenched her right hand from the headboard and wrapped it over his.
"Please," she said, pushing his fingers between her lips. "Please."
He made a sound, pained and harsh, and then he did move fast, so fast she suspected he'd been dying to all along. He came almost all the way out of her with each rough stroke and then all the way back in. Oh, she loved his size then, with a fervor that truly shocked. The swollen flare of his cockhead scraped all the nerves whose charm she was even then gaining respect for.
When his spearing finger moved in tandem with his cock, and his thumb found her aching clit, she couldn't help but fly apart. Pleasure was bombarding her from a thousand aching-sweet points at once. She cried out and crashed through the edge, the violence of her climax jerking her like a rag doll. The spasms tightened her around him as his body slapped hers harder and harder and at last stiffened like a board.
Electricity surged through her as he came, as if his aura were penetrating her in ways no physical body could. Her orgasm peaked higher as emotion welled. She felt such love, such gratitude and overwhelming joy. Magmas was beautiful beyond beauty, was kinder than kind. Nothing about him needed changing. He was perfect just as he was. Her skin felt like it could melt away beneath the blaze of her admiration. They would merge together in this pleasure. They would lose their bodies and truly be one.
"Zoe," he gasped against her neck.
The sound returned her to herself—or as close as she was getting in that moment. His hands were clenched possessively around her, one on her pussy and one on her breast. His breath sobbed in and out of him.
"It's all right," she slurred, her sensual lassitude nearly preventing speech. "Magnus, it's all right."
She expected him to collapse on her, wanted him to in the deepest, most nurturing part of her soul. Instead, he drew himself carefully away, hanging above her on hands and knees.
Fortunately, she was still glowing and couldn't mind. She wriggled around until she could look up at him from the cage he'd formed. He was bathed in sweat and shaking like a weary dog. She soothed his chest with her own trembling hands, loving every sign he carried of what they'd done.
"You didn't hurt me," she said. "I enjoyed that."
"Zoe." His voice was soft as her touch trailed to the limpness dangling between his legs. She rolled off the condom, heavy with his seed.
"You came a lot," she said, strangely aroused by the volume of his ejaculate. "Is this what happens when you hold back?"
She smoothed the wetness that remained on his skin, exploring him in this new state. His balls hung low now, loose in their sac, and his penis was so silky it seemed unreal. Her fingers could meet around his shaft now that he was smaller. She pulled the ring of them gently down his length, not wanting to hurt him if he was sensitive.
He said her name again, a little groan in it this time.
"I'm sorry," she apologized with a laugh. "I can't seem to stop touching on you. I could go again if that makes it better. I'm not sure I'm capable of coming anymore tonight, but I'd really, really love to have you in my pussy. I'd really love to feel you come inside me that way."
He pulled her hold from him, but not before she felt a fresh spurt of stiffness roll through his cock.
"Zoe," he said. "I can't do this with you now."
His cock seemed to think it could. He had leaned back from her onto his heels, and her view was clear. His erection wavered higher even as she watched, a miracle of human pneumatics.
She wriggled onto her elbows. "What do you mean, you can't?"
"I mean I'm not ready to have intercourse with you."
His expression was absolutely serious. Zoe felt her temper begin to rise. "You mean emotionally ready, right? Because the rest of you is looking like it's in the mood."
He closed his eyes for a long heartbeat. "There are things about myself I can't explain to you."
"And I guess that's because I'm so untrustworthy?"
"Zoe—"
"No, don't bother feeding me more lines." She sat up and hugged a pillow to her front, abruptly in need of the shield. "I know you haven't got vagina-phobia. As much as the local rumor mill blabbers about you, someone would have mentioned that."
"Zoe—"
"I'm your friend, Magnus, or I thought I had been for the last two years. Yes, I've been stupid enough to want more, but that doesn't mean I'll tolerate being treated like someone who can't be confided in. You know who I am. My character isn't a myst
ery. If your issues, whatever they are, are too intimate to share with me, you can just bundle them up and go."
His mouth opened again, but this time she interrupted him before her name could come out.
"I mean it. I think something special happened here tonight, but no amount of special is going to excuse you still holding back. I've had enough of men wanting to hide half of themselves from me. Come back when and if you're ready to get over that."
He swallowed, his Adam's apple jerking in his throat. She was glad to see she'd shaken him—though her satisfaction was premature.
"I need to think about this," he said, adding insult to an injury she'd thought was plenty deep enough.
"Fine," she said. "You go think."
She didn't call him back when he pulled on his clothes and climbed out her window, not even when he sent one last searching glance over his shoulder. Maybe he was sorry to be leaving, but that didn't fix what was wrong.
Growling with frustration, she threw her pillow across the room. What was wrong with her that she kept falling for these conflicted men? There seemed no point in guessing what Magnus's problem was. This whole mess only underscored how near to a stranger he really was. She'd never met his family or heard him mention their names. He'd never told her where he'd grown up, or gone to school, or what he'd done for work before he took up managing artists. Apart from knowing that he was cheerful, fabulous in bed, and possessed of occasionally odd taste in shoes, they might as well have met a week ago. Oh, she knew she held a higher place in his interest than his other protégés, but did having lunch a few times a week truly constitute friendship?
Right then, it didn't feel like it. Right then, it felt like she'd been deluded about everything.
The house was silent, lonelier somehow than if she'd been in it alone. Bryan and Alex were probably asleep, curled up together in sensual exhaustion, neither of them available to talk to her—even if confiding in them had been a good idea.
I want my cat, she thought, pushing out of bed to get him.
The irony that her one present comfort had come to her from Magnus wasn't lost on her.
* * *
Chapter Ten
Zoe's morning didn't seem destined to lift her mood. Yes, it was sunny and, yes, the heat index was reasonable, but the fairies were sulking over her having welcomed their two least favorite people into her home. Aside from a shimmer of presence around Corky, they didn't appear at all. Without their assistance, Zoe's hair did scary things when she blew it dry.
Alex and Bryan were long gone by the time she shuffled into the kitchen. Whether they were embarrassed by the noises they'd made the previous night or the ones she had, she didn't know. Their absence wouldn't have been so annoying if they'd left her more than a drip of coffee that wouldn't keep a flea awake. Half a stale bagel languished in her bread box, but of course her toaster was still on the fritz from Florabel's linguistic experiments.
"Love you, too," Zoe muttered to her absent friends.
Corky stretched and mewled as she tucked him into her handbag with what supplies she could scrounge up for him. He seemed to find his new container fascinating, sniffing at the woven straw with great interest.
"At least you're no trouble," she said to the now wide-eyed cat. He had, to her relief, already figured out the purpose of his newspapers.
She'd almost gotten on her way when Samuel popped into visibility before the door. He was still dressed like Robin Hood and had clearly come to her in a snit. His hands were planted on the hips of his leaf-green tunic, and his wings beat so fast the tiny feather in his tiny cap threatened to blow off.
"What's wrong?" she asked in exasperation. "None of your compadres want to talk to me, and you drew the short straw?"
"I gave you my name," he huffed. "And now you do this!"
"This?" Zoe attempted to sound more patient. A fairy's name was a sacred trust. Theoretically, it could be used to summon them against their will—though she wasn't sure the old lore applied to fairies as willful as Rajel's flock.
True or not, Samuel was milking her supposed betrayal for all it was worth. "Kittens don't need to go to work!"
"Kittens need to be fed, Samuel. By someone who can actually lift a box of kibble. And kittens need to bond with their owners, not just their fairy guardians."
"Your workplace is a bad environment. All sorts of riffraff go there!"
"I doubt Magnus will show up today, if that's what you're getting at."
Samuel could fit an awful lot of disapproval into a face no bigger than her fingernail. He did not, however, disappear at the mere mention of Magnus's name.
"You could come to work with us," she suggested, sensing an opening. "I'm planning to shop for Corky on my lunch hour."
"Petsmart?" Samuel breathed, his reverent tone suggesting this was akin to visiting the Louvre.
"With my credit card. Corky will be needing toys."
Samuel trembled with his inner conflict, obviously bursting to come along. Shopping, toys, and kittens were practically the Holy Grail of fairy fun. If you added music and dancing, you could win their loyalty for life.
"I'll join you at noon," Samuel finally snapped. "Possibly with a friend."
Well, that's progress, Zoe thought, and rubbed noses with Corky to celebrate.
As Zoe had predicted, Magnus wasn't at the gallery when she arrived, which left her both irritated and relieved. Since that snag in the fabric of her life was put off indefinitely, she settled Corky in her office with a pillow and a spool of thread she'd brought as a stopgap toy. The kitten seemed to think it was just as good as the store-bought kind, chasing it across her office like a small dervish. Seeing that he was happy, she composed herself for her first client.
Today that was Teresa Smallfoot. Blowing in with her usual brilliant smile, the cafe owner made herself even more welcome by plunking two tall mocha espressos on Zoe's reading table.
Since Teresa was a friend, Zoe allowed herself to moan with pleasure as she grabbed the closest container and took a slurping hit. The caffeine ran into her like liquid gold. "Teresa Smallfoot, you are a lifesaver."
"Not me." Teresa sat in the opposite armchair and smoothed her denim skirt down her knees. At her waist, a handmade turquoise and silver belt showed off how curvy her figure was. Her hair was perfect, as always, a straight and shining fall of black. Zoe suppressed a twinge of envy. She knew better than to think that if she'd looked more like Teresa and less like herself things would have ended any differently with Magnus.
"Well?" said Teresa. "Aren't you going to ask? Or is whatever happened to your hair this morning—which I only mention as a caring friend—affecting your usually sparkling wits?"
Zoe's hand flew to the ball of frizz she'd tried to minimize by braiding it. "My little friends went on strike this morning. This was the best I could do."
"The coffee," Teresa prodded patiently. "Aren't you going to ask about the coffee?"
"What about the coffee?"
Teresa laughed at her confusion. "The coffee comes to you courtesy of two secret admirers."
"Two secret admirers?"
Zoe hadn't known she had any admirers, but Teresa grinned in acknowledgment. "One blond, one dark, both tall and yummy. They came into my cafe this morning. Asked if I knew the woman who worked next door. When I admitted that I did, they said they owed you coffee."
"Oh, them" said Zoe, her cheeks going a little hot.
"You're blushing!" Teresa exclaimed. "This must be better than I thought. Just tell me you're not interested in the dark-haired one. You know I love bad boys."
"Actually, I think he goes for bad boys, too."
"Well, shoot," said Teresa with a full-lipped pout. "That wasn't showing on my radar. I was going to have Grandma Rose scope him out for me."
Zoe started to explain that Bryan might have no problem swinging Teresa's way, then shut her mouth. She told herself it was nothing to do with her niggling attraction to the man. Bryan was gone on Alex, and nobody—
least of all her—needed to get in the middle of that.
"What?" said Teresa. "Not going to lecture me on asking dead people to run my life? I know they're not necessarily smarter than we are, but you gotta admit Grandma Rose's record is good."
"Your Grandma Rose probably gave good advice when she was alive. And she can see more from where she is. People who are nonphysical always have a broader view."
"So I should ask her for the inside track."
Zoe smiled at her friend's teasing. "She'll only tell you the same thing I'm going to. Right now, Bryan is too interested in Alex to play around."
"Alex," Teresa mused, leaning back in the comfy chair. "You mean your Alex? The one from high school who seduced the coach? Oh, my God. That's the devil's spawn Mrs. Fairfax was muttering about this morning! Thank heaven they didn't come in at the same time. That would have been a scene."
"We had the scene last night at the inn. When I went to banish Mrs. Fairfax's poltergeist."
"Do tell," said Teresa, now back on the edge of her seat.
"Don't you want your session?"
"Oh, no," Teresa said. "Your life is sounding way more interesting to me."
"It was interesting all right. I yelled at Mrs. Fairfax in front of a lobby full of her guests."
"You yelled at Mrs. Fairfax? That, um, fakely sweet old lady?"
"She's okay most of the time. She just hit a nerve for me last night. Alex didn't seduce that coach, not like people say. He's a decent person. The rest is none of their business."
Zoe knew how defensive she was acting when Teresa's expression turned sober. "You say that like you still have feelings for him."
Zoe grimaced. "I'm not sure what I feel about anyone today."
"Poor baby," Teresa crooned, her sympathy quick and free. "I take it things didn't go well with Magnus, either."
Zoe blinked to calm her burning eyes. The last thing she wanted was to talk about that. She wasn't certain Teresa would understand. As to that, she wasn't certain she did. "Let's just say it wasn't the seduction of the century."
