Fallen Gods II: Jaded Prey

by Lorie O'Clare

  She shook her head frantically, tears staining her eyes. Her hair stuck to her face, blinding her as strands stuck to the salty moisture that streamed to her mouth. If only she could scream, call out, someone—anyone.

  Try as she would, her mouth wouldn’t open. Her lips seemed sealed shut, her tears clinging to her mouth while she strained to speak, tell the hideous creature that now mauled at her breasts to leave her alone, get out of her head.

  I won’t submit to you, not now, not ever, she screamed in her thoughts, her throat aching even though she hadn’t voiced her words.

  “You already have.” It read her thoughts, swimming through her mind as if it were his personal playground. “I can play with you, torture you, enjoy your screams. Nothing you can do will ever change that. No one can stop me. You’ll see to it.”

  His laughter curled her blood, tearing through her with vicious claws.

  Her tongue was stuck to the top of her mouth. She fought to make her mouth work, to voice her pleas, beg the cruel beast to leave her alone.

  “No!” She screamed, struggling with the blankets cocooned around her as she flew out of her bed and fell to the floor.

  Naomi stood quickly, the blankets flowing off the bed while she hurried to her bedroom door. She breathed quickly, gulping in air, while staring at her quiet, dark room. Struggling to straighten her oversized T-shirt that she always slept in, she stared frantically into the darkness.

  Everything was in place. It was just another dream.

  “And I’m sick of them,” she mumbled, tearing her fingers through her knotted hair.

  She hadn’t bothered to take her hair out of her braids before bed. Now her fingers shook while she unwrapped her long locks of hair. It fell around her, a cloak to hide behind. Yet this time, the scary creature was in her head, not in a closet, or the adjoining dark room. There was no way to hide from her thoughts.

  Her heart raced. A cold sweat had spread over her body, and she fought off uncontrollable shivers. There was nothing to be scared of. Dreams were just the product of an overactive imagination.

  Nonetheless, her knees wobbled as she left her bedroom and headed to her kitchen. The glow of the refrigerator offered a bit of normalcy to her frazzled brain. She needed to calm down, get that stupid creature out of her thoughts so she could go back to sleep.

  “Merco, could you chase my dreams away?” She closed her refrigerator, nothing in there appealing to her, and turned to stand in her kitchen doorway.

  A different kind of chill ran through her at the thought of the tall, determined stranger. Something about him, his determination, his overwhelming self-confidence, or maybe his dark, forbidding good looks, made her breath almost come in pants.

  “You said you would come to me if I needed you.” She allowed a smile. At this rate she would truly be insane. Like whispering out loud her desire for a man would bring him to her.

  “And I meant it.” His deep voice behind her, whispering the simple sentence, broke the silence of her small apartment.

  Naomi’s heart exploded. She whirled around, almost falling into the refrigerator.

  “What the fuck? How’d you get in here?” She stared in horrified disbelief at the man standing in front of her.

  Then she let her gaze travel down him. Any thoughts of bad dreams vanished in an instant. Merco stood less than a foot from her, in the doorway, wearing nothing more than cream-colored boxer shorts. He didn’t even have on socks.

  She focused on his feet for only a moment, her gaze traveling slowly up him. Cords of muscles twisted under dark skin. Black hairs coursed over his body, making her skin tingle even though she hadn’t touched him. But when she got to his waist, her mouth went dry, then suddenly was too moist. No man had ever made ordinary boxer shorts look so damn good.

  The outline of his shaft, long and thick, in what she hoped wasn’t too relaxed of a state, because he was more than well-endowed, was clearly visible through his boxers. The round bulging head of his cock pressed against the material, right under his waistline.

  The man stood too close, taking up her space. She couldn’t help but stare at him, but hell, she couldn’t breathe. And she sure as hell couldn’t say anything.

  Daring to enjoy the eye candy in front of her, her gaze strolled up his chest, broad thick muscles bulging under skin she ached to touch. She almost gasped for air when she looked him in the face, his green eyes sensual pools clear enough to allow her to see the extent of his desires.

  He reached for her, wrapping several strands of her unbrushed hair through his fingers. With a gentle tug, he brought her closer to him. “Did you let your hair down of your own free will?”

  What a preposterous question. “No. The demon in my head made me do it.”

  She frowned at the curious expression that crossed his face, and immediately regretted her smartass remark.

  Pulling her hair free from his grasp, she turned around quickly. He was too much man, taking up too much of her personal space. Naomi didn’t need this right now. She walked over to her sink, grabbing the cool porcelain, willing it to be enough to calm her frazzled nerves. First that damned recurring nightmare, and now Merco. She couldn’t handle this.

  “How the hell did you get in here?” She knew she’d locked her front door.

  Trying desperately to remember everything she did before she went to bed proved fruitless. Her mind was in a state of pure chaos. And Merco standing behind her wasn’t helping a bit.

  “I told you that if you called for me I would be here.” He moved behind her, pressing his body against her backside.

  Naomi couldn’t catch her breath. She stared down as her knuckles went white, gripping the counter while her fingers pressed against the sink. Long red hair fell in ringlets, hiding her, allowing her a little privacy while her heart pounded in her chest. It would be too easy to put aside her personal torturous dreams and allow this man to seduce her. He wanted to fuck her. Maybe a quick lay with a perfect stranger would offer her a good night’s sleep. God knows she hadn’t had one in ages.

  “I didn’t call you.” Hell, she didn’t even know his number.

  But that was what he had said. And he hadn’t offered his number. It was as if all she had to do was whisper her craving for him and he would appear to take care of her.

  Good God. Maybe she was still dreaming.

  “Yes. You did.” He ran his hands up her arms, long fingers stretching underneath her sleeves, pushing her T-shirt to her shoulders. “What demon haunts your dreams?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” The last thing she could do was talk about it.

  Especially when his fingers branded her skin. His touch was too hot. For a moment thoughts of the too humid heat in her nightmare grabbed her, attacking her senses. She shuddered. But she wasn’t cold. Merco’s touch sent smoldering flames through her, but it was far from unpleasant.

  “As long as you agree not to worry about it either.” He pressed his head against the side of her face, his breath carrying a minty aroma to it.

  If Merco was a drug, she could easily become addicted. And drugs were bad. She shouldn’t allow this to happen. And she knew exactly where this was headed. Her body screamed in torment, her breasts swelling, feeling suddenly too heavy. She willed him to move his hands, grab hold of them and squeeze. Her nipples burned with a craving to be sucked, tugged on and nibbled.

  “I’m not agreeing to anything.” She hated how her words escaped her mouth on a breath, sounding way too sensual.

  Merco chuckled, the deep baritone sound rippling through her like waves slapping up against a parched beach. She craved him just as dry land craved water. Something was seriously wrong here.

  She should be concerned about how he got into her apartment. Merco was a cocky, arrogant cuss, his attitude way too sure of himself, his abilities way too crafted. If she were in her right mind, he would terrify her more than her dream had.

  Merco let his fingers trace fiery lines over her shoulders. He ran his hand
s over her shirt, cupping her neck and stretching it, forcing her head back with his fingers.

  Damn. If the iron body pressed against her backside was any indication of how strong he was, he could snap her neck easily. And she didn’t know this man at all. Her best friend had warned her to steer clear. Bridget hadn’t elaborated on the type of sexual adventures that Merco indulged in. But sneaking into a woman’s house, and then holding her neck so that she could hardly move, might put him in a category that Naomi should run from.

  “I would never do anything you didn’t want.” He seemed able to read her mind.

  His hot whisper brushed over her cheek, sending her brain into a fever that had her spinning.

  “But I will do everything you ache for, what you crave, what you need,” he added, his lips brushing over hers.

  She opened her mouth to speak, staring into those deep green orbs that were more than hypnotic. Her pussy convulsed, too vulnerable under the simple fabric that hung barely to her thighs. Stretching her back like this, arching her neck so that she looked up at him, her nipples pressed against her shirt, while moisture soaked her inner thighs, her clit pulsating in a beat that matched the rapid beat of her heart.

  When she would have spoken, although for the life of her she had no idea what to say, he pressed his mouth over hers, capturing her breath in a kiss that made her explode inside. His lips were soft, but his actions determined. His tongue dipped deep into her mouth, swirling around her, filling her the way she knew his cock would fill her pussy.

  She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Her mind burned with a feverish need, responding to the throbbing ache that made her want to press her hands over her own heat, soothe the need that burned out of control between her legs.

  His fingers stretched along the width of her neck, holding her head in place. His touch was gentle yet intoxicating. He barely touched her, making no effort to explore her exposed and vulnerable body. And damn it to hell if she didn’t want him to. In fact, she begged in her mind for his hands to stroke her, fondle her breasts, reach down and penetrate her with those strong fingers.

  The reality that she had tangled with insanity made her wonder if she’d truly gone over the edge. Maybe her nightmares were simply proof that her mind had somehow cracked.

  Merco had broken into her apartment. He was taking advantage of her when she was at her most vulnerable. It was the middle of the night. And she barely knew the man. And proof of her insanity was the fact that on the edge of her tongue, she was about ready to ask him to fuck her.

  His tongue warred with hers. A dance of enticement, him on the sexual prowl and her on the verge of explosion. There was no way she could turn him away, tell him no, make him leave.

  His fingers caressed her neck, such strength coated with a soft sensual touch. Her pussy throbbed, the heat between her legs unbearable. She opened her mouth further, allowing him to turn her head with the slightest of touches against her throat.

  Never had she tasted such heat, Merco giving her more than she possibly imagined a kiss could do.

  Somehow she had to regain control of her senses. If she only could find the strength to end this kiss.

  Merco allowed their lips to part, leaving her gasping when he trailed his hot mouth over her cheek to her ear. His body was harder than steel, pressing against her back. The urge to rub her ass against him, entice him further, entered her mind.

  Yup. She was surely insane.

  “Is this really all you want from me?” he asked, whispering in her ear with such a soothing baritone that chills raced through her straight to her toes. “A mere kiss and you feel you can’t handle any more?”

  She almost took the challenge. Heat swarmed through her, electric currents tingling every nerve ending in her body. It was as if her world around her, her very own kitchen, the hard counter pressing against her waist, all of it seemed to be the dream. The only reality was Merco. His strength, his passion rushing through her at a speed fast enough to leave her spinning, made everything else in her world seem surreal. And it just seemed natural to respond, to tell him she could handle anything he could give her, she needed everything he had.

  Gulping in air, her heart pounding so hard that it hurt, Naomi pushed away from the counter, pressing even harder against the steel body behind her. She would die. She would absolutely die. No woman in her right mind would decline such an offer.

  But hadn’t she just confirmed that she was surely going insane?

  “You broke into my home.” Her body clenched with frustration as she forced herself to face the truth.

  More than anything she wanted to give in to this man. Her pussy throbbed desperately, moisture warring with the cool air that fluttered underneath her long T-shirt.

  She gritted her teeth, fighting to keep her thoughts straight. “I don’t know how you got in here, but it isn’t right.”

  “You wanted me.” His words brushed over her skin, his hands leaving her neck and stroking her arms. “And you knew calling me would bring me here.”

  She couldn’t fight him when he wrapped his arms around her waist, spreading his fingers over her abdomen. The fire from his touch immobilized her, stealing her breath, making it impossible to move.

  “Let me in, darling,” he whispered, his head leaning forward next to hers.

  She knew he looked down her front and she imagined his view, unable to move her head, lower her eyes, or even think. The way his chest pressed against her shoulder blades, his taut abdomen brushing against the narrow of her back, and his hard cock, stirring with raging fire along her lower back, she was lucky she didn’t puddle at his feet.

  He would see her breasts, swollen and aching to be caressed. Her heart pounded in her chest and she was certain he noticed how heavily she breathed. And the way she gripped the counter, unable to let go from its solid reassurance that something stable existed in her world, he would know she was on the verge of begging him to fuck her.

  “Tell me that you want me,” he added, his hoarse whisper rupturing her senses.

  Somehow she managed to move her mouth, her own voice no more than a husky breath. “Do I have a choice?”

  Chapter Seven

  Merco’s insides hardened with her words.

  Did she have a choice?

  He had used no magic. There were no ancient spells at play here. In all the ways he remembered, he was behaving as any human man would behave. Yet still, she claimed that she had no free will.

  “You have a choice. Tell me to go away. Or tell me to stay with you.” Never had he craved a woman the way he did Naomi.

  The way he had her pinned to her counter, her long, thick, dark red hair streaming around her, teasing his skin where it gently floated over him, was enough to make him want to fuck her silly.

  But there was more to it than that. Naomi craved him with every breath she took. Her breasts swelled, her nipples poking defiantly against her T-shirt, her scent taking on a musky aroma, proof that she craved him with a lust bordering on something darker, more energized than he had experienced in centuries. No woman he’d ever created had shown him such raw desire, such intense emotions.

  Yet Naomi denied those emotions. And worse yet, buried underneath her riveting passion lay something intense, something dark and terrifying to her. She had called out to him for protection. But at the same time, she feared him.

  She pushed harder against him, freeing herself from where he had her pinned. It took some effort to let her go, watch her flee into the darkness of her living room. When she turned, her blue eyes glowed against her flushed cheeks. The soft waves in her hair simply added to her incredible beauty. Standing there facing him, her shirt long enough to just cover the treasure between her legs, she nibbled her lower lip, fighting her desire to run back to him. Her thoughts were as easy to read as if she spoke them aloud.

  “You act like the only matter at hand here is whether you fuck me or not.” She put her hands on her hips, causing her shirt to rise up slightly, her slender
legs exposed clear up to her thighs. “What really matters is how the fuck you got into my apartment.”

  He moved in on her slowly, enjoying how her eyes widened but she held her stance. She had no idea what she dealt with in him, and although her fear was clearly readable, she stood up to him, not backing down for an instant.

  “If that is what matters to you so much,” he began, keeping his voice low, soft, not wanting to alarm her, and needing her to see she was safe only with him, “then know now that whenever you are in trouble, or simply wish for me to be there, a mere thought will bring me to you. Is that clear?”

  “Clear as mud,” she mumbled, her pouting expression showing she wouldn’t push him further on the matter but her curiosity was more than piqued.

  He couldn’t keep from touching her, running his thumb over those pursed lips. Everything inside him hardened, stealing his breath momentarily as he stared into her deep blue pools of passion.

  “Don’t fear me, Naomi,” he whispered.

  “I don’t.” Her breath was hot against his fingers, rushing through him with an energy that blinded him.

  And the terror he’d read all over her when he first came to her had dissipated. She was leery of him, hesitating, but a craving that almost surpassed his own radiated from her. His cock burned as he fought the urge to rip her shirt from her body, bend her over right there in her living room, and dive into her heat.

  He gripped her chin, lifting her face until his was inches from hers. “Tell me what you want.”

  Her lips parted, her request right there, yet she hesitated. “I…I want…” she stammered, unable to voice her desires as her lashes fluttered over her pretty blue eyes.

  “Yes?” He would wait an eternity to hear her say she wanted him to fuck her.

  It might kill him to do it, but he was determined now. If he could just ignore the pain that hardened his entire body, demanding that he free his cock from the burden of his clothing.