She blinked away moisture. “Maybe because you aren’t human, you’re immune. Wouldn’t you know it would take another demon to be able to resist my curse?”
Octavius blew out a deep breath, trying to even them, trying to keep himself from plunging upward. “I’m no demon, but you speak of a curse…”
“My touch incites men into sexual frenzy, makes them lose their minds.”
Her shiver helped him concentrate. He canted his head, read the tension on her face, and he got a hint of the deep anguish inside her. “Has it forced you to keep away from men?”
She nodded quickly. “And I wear gloves. Just in case.”
He clasped her soft, warm hands inside his, and stroked his thumb across her palm.
She sighed.
At that moment, he knew she’d never known a man’s gentle caress. How intriguing. How perfect. If he could lure her lonely soul to him, he might stave off the spell that had rendered him stone. “You’ve never known a gentle lover?”
“No.”
“Have you been molested?”
“Once. But I allowed it, thinking that maybe after he sought his pleasure that he would relax with me. But my touch never let his passion wane. I had to run from him.”
He could well imagine how it had been, could imagine himself never wanting to leave her soft body, but by choice, not by witchery.
Gently, he cupped her cheek and tilted back her head. He read a lonely yearning in her gaze, and instantly, his stone-cold heart softened. “Let me give you this.” He kissed her lips softly, gliding his tongue along her lower lip before sweeping inside to taste her lush mouth.
Her breath eased inside him, warm, humid, but sweeter than a demon’s. A halfling creature. She could have been crafted exactly for his needs.
He was tall, heavy compared to even the most developed man. Yet her long, supple frame wasn’t dwarfed by his. Her sturdy build could withstand his weight, his punishing strokes. Already, she’d taken him inside her body without complaint. His cock still rested deep, surrounded by moist, rippling heat.
Deep inside, her body recognized he was her match.
Drawing back, he glided his hand down her neck, over the swell of her breast. He cupped her there, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the beaded tip. Her breasts were small in proportion to her size, merely a rounded bulge, topped with small, cone-like nipples. Velvety soft nipples.
His mouth watered, staring at them, and he grasped her hips and lifted her, dragging her off his cock until just the tip of him was still within the grasp of her wet cunt. He lowered his mouth to her breast and traced the soft circle with his tongue.
Her body vibrated against him. Her next gasp was a strangled mewl.
He sucked the tip between his lips and rubbed it with his tongue, rooting more hungrily against the tender swell of her breast until her sex began to caress the head of his cock in exquisitely moist “kisses”.
Octavius groaned and drew away, leaning his head against her shoulder. “So sweet,” he murmured.
“Please, gargoyle. Please taste the other,” she whispered.
He smiled, pressed a kiss against her hot skin and traversed her chest to latch onto the other nipple.
There, he rooted wildly against her, suckling like a starving man, drawing hard on her nipple until she quivered inside his embrace.
“I must move,” she moaned.
Not a growl but a groan this time forced its way past his lips. The sweet desperation in her eyes fed his own heat. “Not yet. I fear it will be over too quickly.”
“Gargoyle,” she said, more loudly, her hands threading through his close-cropped hair and tugging hard.
“Octavius. Call me by my name.”
“Octavius,” she said breathlessly, undulating her hips and circling on his cock. “Lord, you don’t feel any different than when you were stone.”
“You make me this way.” He bit her nipple, ignored her feminine yelp, then grasped her buttocks in his hands and moved her up and down his shaft.
She eagerly consumed him, throwing back her head and holding onto his shoulders as he moved her how he wished. The slow drugging movements, stroking up and down his cock, had him squeezing his eyes shut, so delicious were the sensations sweeping through him.
But he wanted more, wanted to let loose. Needed to hear her cries change from gentle gasps and moans to sensual screams.
He ground his jaws together, deciding to take the chance, and lifted her fully off his cock. He held her still above him for a moment, waiting, but the cool tightening that had preceded his imprisonment didn’t happen.
“Please,” she said, writhing in his grasp. “Don’t stop now. You’ve convinced me we should share this. Don’t be cruel.”
“I want you on your knees.” He set her away from him, pausing again, as she jerkily went to her knees and turned, presenting her rounded bottom.
Octavius flared his wings, beating them down twice as primal satisfaction filled his chest. The moist center of her gleamed. Her pussy swelled. When he stroked his fingers over her, he found her hot and moist. He pushed her bottom until her chest fell to the ground and then he leaned down and opened his mouth to suck her folds into his mouth.
“Sweet, sweet God,” she groaned. And then her pussy pulsed, the opening clasping rhythmically, inviting him to enter her with his tongue and his fingers.
His body hardened like the marble he’d been. If she’d glanced back once, she would have remembered her fear, because he knew his features were tightening, growing feral. He barely suppressed the rumbling growls that shook his chest, trying to squeeze past his tight throat as he entered her, tonguing her salty cream, stroking her hot walls until more moisture seeped from inside her.
His wings trembled as his fervor built. He spread her folds and thrust two fingers inside her, enjoying the spasms clasping around the digits as her bottom began to rock counter to the strokes he delivered.
Finally, he could hold himself from her no longer. He kissed her quivering bottom and rose to kneel behind her, guiding her ass back until his cock met her entrance. He clamped his hands around the notches of her hips and thrust forward, driving himself deep into her body.
Petra screamed. Not from discomfort, although his thick cock did rasp against sensitive walls. She’d thought herself prepared to take him again, but the emotions welling inside her took her by surprise. For the first time, she knew what full-blown lust felt like. He’d given her the freedom to experience it.
The sense of relief, warming and crowding her chest, was almost as devastating as the trembling starting deep inside her womb.
“Have I hurt you?” He didn’t sound concerned, merely prideful.
How like a man, she mused. Tossing back her hair she came up on her hands and braced herself.
His soft, rumbling laugh, so like an animal’s growl, warmed her. From the corners of her eyes, she saw the tips of his broad wings flicker into sight then disappear, bringing a cooling sough of air that prickled her skin. Did he flutter them in excitement? Did they tremble like her own limbs as her passion rose?
Suddenly, she was eager to discover his secrets, explore their passion. Would he want to leave her as soon as he reached completion? Well, she’d just have to give him reasons to linger because she wasn’t ready to give up her one chance at knowing sexual fulfillment with a partner.
His hands tightened on her hips as he began to stroke inside over and over, thrusting deeply, relentlessly, his motions steady, but gaining speed.
His breaths remained even for long moments, then he leaned into her, his thrusts shortening, strengthening in their tender violence until he gasped behind her and used his grip to force her back and forth, countering his strokes.
The friction he built inside her channel melted her inner walls and her back sank as did her head. At last her trembling arms gave way and she sagged toward the ground, only to be hauled upward, her back to his chest as he jounced her on his lap.
His wings enfolde
d her, gliding down her splayed thighs, the velvety suede adding another texture to his lovemaking, a soothing balm to the overexcited inner tumult consuming her mind.
When fingers thrust into the top of her sex, gliding over her clitoris, she cried out. Her head thrashed on his chest. “It’s too much. Too much. Oh god, ohgodohgod…” Her body vibrated hard, her release exploding outward from her pussy, curling tightly around her womb and convulsing all along her channel where he continued to thrust, jerking against her, prodding, cramming deeper, harder until she couldn’t keep track of the sensations rolling over her in wave after wave of pleasure.
Hot, wet, rough, sharp…biting.
No, that was his teeth, gripping the corner of her neck and holding her still while his body emptied inside her, molten liquid washing into her in steady pulses.
When his hips no longer rocked beneath her, he unlocked his teeth and soothed her neck with the flat of his tongue.
She murmured, feeling replete, boneless, but not ready to awaken from the sensual haze. She moved his hands up to cup her breasts, then squeezed to let him know she still needed to be petted.
Looking down, she noted how large his hands were, and how meager her breasts must feel. But he didn’t seem to mind so much, pinching her nipples and twisting them gently, causing little aftershocks to tremble through her.
At last, she leaned heavily against him, gasping for air, her arms hugging his over her belly, and covered again with his warm, soft wings.
So like a comforting, blanketing cocoon that she never wanted to escape.
Kisses landed on her shoulder, her neck. A finger guided her head to the side and his mouth teased the corner of her lips until she strained to capture his in a carnal, messy kiss—all lips and stroking tongue, sipping thirstily from each other’s mouths.
“Did I please you?” he asked, cupping her cheek, his brows drawn into a forbidding scowl.
She smiled, knowing her face was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and that her hair stuck to her back and shoulders. She felt at a disadvantage when he was barely winded. “First you ask if you hurt me, but you smiled. Then you ask if you pleased me, and now you frown. I don’t understand you.”
A rough rumble vibrated against her shoulders. “I wasn’t careful with you,” he said roughly.
“Did I ask for you to be gentle? Did I complain even once?”
“Then I didn’t hurt you?”
“Couldn’t you tell how wonderfully I hurt? I’m undone.”
“You enjoyed it,” he said with a hint of masculine superiority.
She’d allow him a moment to preen. He deserved it.
“Think you might want me again?”
“And again…” Petra swallowed hard, too spent to be anything but truthful. “I think I’ve waited for you for forever.”
Chapter Three
Octavius let out a deep breath, an unwelcome wash of guilt cooling his ardor. As special as the sex had been for this woman, he couldn’t allow her to believe there could be anything between them past this moment. He still had a duty to fulfill.
But he didn’t have to be cruel. And he wasn’t ready to pull free from her body.
He’d had many women during his lifetime, mostly whores who didn’t mind that he never undressed in their presence for fear of revealing his wings or who allowed him to blindfold them.
Not since his youth, before he’d left his own world, had he known this level of sexual freedom. Petra seemed fascinated, but unafraid of his appearance, if her furtive glances were any indication. Her hands curled. Did she want to touch him? Explore him further?
He didn’t miss the irony that he’d found the perfect mate but wasn’t in a position to keep her.
Petra’s eyes were a shining mirror for all her hopes. She waited for him to make a declaration, but he couldn’t. Not and be forced to lie to her.
“I wasn’t expecting you to say you loved me,” she said, those amazing eyes glimmering with a faint sheen of moisture. “But this was special for me. A first.”
“There is a hint of fate in our being here together,” he admitted, knowing his response was weak.
Her gaze dimmed with disappointment. “It’s late. I should probably go back inside. My sisters might be looking for me.”
Her thighs tensed, but he was greedy, pressing her down to hold her nailed on his cock a moment longer. “Sisters?” he asked, more to make conversation, any excuse to linger in her warmth. “There are more like you?”
She sniffed. “Same father, different mothers. We haven’t met.”
And he needed to search for clues of Bacclum’s whereabouts. He sighed and pressed a final kiss against her shoulder and gently lifted her until at last, his cock slid free. The cooler air made his shaft pulse, but he ignored it, needing to focus instead on his mission.
The woman stood, but her legs gave way and she reached backward.
He caught her hand and steadied her. Then he gave in to the impulse to lean forward and press his mouth against her soft bottom, to wrap his arms around her slender waist. She smelled of sex, of honeysuckle and her own sweet musk.
They remained like that for a long moment, but finally, she cleared her throat. “I have to find my clothes.”
“Yes,” he said, confused by his reaction to her. Perhaps he was just affected by his long isolation. Maybe it didn’t have a thing to do with this particular girl. “What is your name?” he asked as he rose to follow her.
She plucked a blouse and trousers from the ground, then looked up at him, her expression startled. A short laugh broke from her. “Petra, it’s ironic actually. It’s Greek and means—”
“Stone, I know.” He grinned. “Didn’t I tell you fate played a hand in this?” Three Fates to be more precise.
She turned away and drew on her clothing, which reminded him that he was still naked and it might be awkward when he reentered the house if he happened upon her sisters. Not that he intended to. As soon as he could ascertain Bacclum’s whereabouts, he’d be gone.
He glanced around the yard, spotted the gazebo standing against the back line of trees and headed that way. As luck would have it, long bench seats upholstered in a sun-faded blue cotton surrounded the outer walls. He lifted one cushion and pulled it apart, stuffing floating to the ground, but he came away with two long strips of cloth which he wound around his hips.
“You look like a Greek god,” she said, from the bottom of the steps.
Octavius suppressed a smile. Little did she know, but he’d lived during times when a short skirt was fashionable on a man. He turned to find Petra staring at his makeshift clothing. “Contrary to what you might believe, I’m not accustomed to strutting around naked.”
“My sisters…I don’t know how I’ll explain you. Naked is one thing. But wings…”
“Was it your father or your mother who willed you your gift?”
“My father is responsible for this eye. My mother is a healer, but her gift was corrupted by him when it passed to me.”
“Have you thought that maybe your sisters have their own curses and might not be terribly put off by my appearance?”
She shrugged and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. If I’d met you—alive—I might have run screaming.”
He grinned again, thinking it unlikely. Her natural curiosity would have made her pause. Damn. Again, he suppressed regrets that seemed to pile one atop another like a mountain of lost hopes. He took a deep breath. “I have to get back into the house, Petra. You and your sisters might not be safe there.”
“Not safe?”
“The being I battled, long ago…”
“I saw nothing in the house, although there did seem to be some…I don’t know…malevolent feeling in the air. We should hurry.”
“Then let’s go.”
“Maybe I should go in first and explain.” She hesitated a moment, giving him a quick glance before letting her gaze drop away. Her cheeks blazed for a moment.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she said, turning away.
It dawned on him that she might want a kiss. Some gesture of affection. Feeling a little rusty dealing with a woman who had a right to expectations, he took the steps and opened his arms, folding them around her to pull her close.
Petra sighed and tilted her head. A shard of ice blue glinted when moonlight hit the demon iris.
Octavius leaned down and captured her lips, suctioning against them before drawing back to catch his breath. The taste of her, the feel of her body snuggling closer made him wish he was anyone else, anything else but what he was.
Petra pressed her lips against his neck, nuzzled her nose into the corner of his shoulder and hugged him hard.
Unbidden, his cock stirred, thickening as her belly pressed closer. Who was the lust-ridden creature now? If she slipped her hand beneath the fabric draped around his hips he’d be lost. But her hands remained clutching his back, smoothing up and down his spine, causing ripples of sweet tension in their wake. “I wish…”
She emitted a soft, choked gust of laughter. “I know. I wish we had more time.”
“Maybe later,” he lied again, finding it easy because he really did hope for the chance to bed her the way she deserved—among soft pillows and clean sheets.
Releasing her, he said, “We must go.”
Her smile was quick and strained, but she nodded and stepped away.
Octavius forced his mind from her and returned his attention to the house looming in the distance. He didn’t feel the tether, the astral rope that bound him to Bacclum. Either the angel was dead or he’d gone elsewhere.
Petra walked toward the house, leading him down a pathway. “It seems farther than before,” she said over her shoulder.
A breeze stirred the vines that cloaked the bushes lining the path, making them tremble. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, rising. “Just keep moving,” he said, closing the distance between them to protect her back.
At last, they reached the outer edge of the garden. The house lay in darkness. Not a single lamp was lit.
“They aren’t here yet.” She hugged her arms to her chest although the air was balmy.
Stone's Embrace: A Captive Souls Story. Page 3
