When A Gargoyle Dreams (Gargoyles Book 5)

by E A Price

  Martha gasped and threw her head back as slowly he inched inside her. Her fingers curled into the bedspread. She couldn’t pretend that taking him was easy. It was a stretch that bordered on painful, but as her body quivered around him, shaking with an intensity she had never felt before, she knew it was worth it.

  When she felt like she couldn’t take anymore, he stopped and groaned, his body trembling under hers. His sharp claws flexed over her ass, massaging them lightly.

  She took a moment to get used to him, and she relaxed, allowing tension she didn’t know was in her limbs to flutter away, and she collapsed back on the bed, looking up at him through half-closed eyes. From her slanted vantage point – her head and shoulders angled down on the bed to her raised ass and legs – he looked even bigger and more menacing.

  Martha let out a small, unexpected giggle and he grunted.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she giggled. “I just feel funny all the way down here – good funny.”

  She tried to wiggle her hips, though she did not manage much, impaled as she was and with him clasping her ass.

  He grunted again and his face virtually twisted in pain. Martha struggled to raise herself on her elbows.

  “Drago?”

  His eyes flickered to hers in surprise. “You know my name?”

  “From my dreams.”

  He nodded. “Martha.”

  She smiled. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I… cannot hold back,” he growled showing teeth.

  Martha blushed. “Then don’t.”

  “Tell me if I hurt you,” he growled.

  She nodded and gasped as he pulled out of her and filled her again. His movements were slow, measured, and made her body ripple around him. He held onto her ass, holding her in place while he moved himself in and out of her.

  Her body reflexively tensed and relaxed while he took what he wanted. He held her so firmly she could barely move. She felt strangely helpless yet turned on. She liked it; liked feeling him being in charge, him looking down at her with a rough look of lust. She liked feeling at his mercy.

  As she loosened, became used to him, he started moving with more urgency. His huge member dragged in and out of her, rubbing and caressing every sensitive spot inside her. It was exquisite torture. It was beautiful, marvelous and a hundred other words, but also too much for her to bear. She wanted to reach her release immediately and for it to go on for a hundred years.

  “Drago,” she whimpered, his name dragging from her mouth even as she forgot her own name.

  He growled, his red eyes flashing as his wings fluttered around them.

  She moaned. “Please.” A plea for what she didn’t know. For more? For it to end? For it to never end? A part of her didn’t want to think about ever leaving this bed. Could they stay there forever, just the two of them together forever?

  He moved over her, removing one hand from her ass and leaning on the bed next to her head. The other hand still clutched her cheek, his claws pressing into her flesh.

  Martha squealed as he started pounding his body into hers. She grasped his shoulders and pulled him down for a kiss. He was surprised at first but quickly took over, dominating the kiss as he did her body.

  Her body was quaking like a freaking volcano. In her experience sex was not like this. It was nice, pleasant, with a little friction and occasionally resulted in a warm, pleasant feeling in the bottom of her stomach. This was earth moving, mind-blowing sex. For once in her life, the bed truly was slamming against the wall.

  She heard a crash as a picture fell to the floor. It didn’t faze him. No, if anything it spurred him to slam into her even harder, even faster – a feat she wouldn’t have thought possible before that day.

  He growled and groaned into her mouth as the whole room seemed to be shaking. Martha heard a mirror, two more pictures and everything on the bedside table rattle and fall to the floor. Were they actually having an earthquake?! Nope, just him.

  Her body wound, tighter and tighter until finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. She shook her head away from his lips and screamed his name as the most shocking and incredible release of her life flowed through her. She bucked against him, but as she unraveled beneath him he kept her firmly in place with his deep thrusts until seconds later, he let out a bone-shaking roar and poured himself inside her.

  Martha clutched him to her, wishing it could never end.

  Chapter Twenty

  Drago cursed himself as he felt dawn approach. He had not meant to stay this long. Had not meant to stay at all.

  His resolve to never get close to a human, never mind bed one, had not lasted long. Kissing her was probably the first mistake. Carrying her upstairs to her bedroom the second. Allowing her to disrobe was the ultimate error. When she bore her breasts to him, he was an absolute goner. They were perfect and pink, and he knew that if it was the last thing he ever did, he wanted to feel her naked body in his arms.

  He gave her the opportunity to stop, but she didn’t want that, and there was no way he was going to stop at that point. No, he had been dreaming of her for long enough, and despite his worries that the situation may be a repeat of what happened with Muriel, he had given in to baser desires. He had resolved to get her out of his system and perhaps then he could forget about her, and the dreams would stop.

  He had taken her three times, and now she lay sleeping in pleasured exhaustion. He had been dozing when he felt the pull of the sunrise, his own body tired and unused to such exercise. Even with his previous partners – which admittedly there were only three including Muriel – he had not felt so drained. Pride dictated that he ensure Martha was well satisfied, that she compare him to any future partners she may have and find them wanting.

  He was surprised that bedding Martha was in no way like it was when he was with Muriel. He hadn’t felt the need to hold back. He had been slow to begin with, to ensure he did not hurt her weaker body, but Martha was as fierce and keen as he was. The way she responded and felt amazed him and he wanted to take her over and over until he could no longer walk. Which he almost could not.

  Drago pushed the covers away, slipping out from under her hand that had been resting on his chest while she slept. He stared down at her as anger curled inside him. He did not want to think of anyone else touching her supple body, her milky skin, those pink, soft lips… Desire kindled within him again, and Drago snarled lightly – making sure he did not wake her.

  His desire was in no way diminished. In spite of his tiredness and aching body, he was half tempted to wake her and take her again. He probably would have already been clambering over her were it not for the daylight creeping over the horizon.

  “Damn,” he cursed.

  He gave her one last, regretful glance and grabbed his loincloth before hurtling through the house. He made his way to the garden. There was no way he could get home and nowhere for him to hide truly.

  Why in Merlin’s beard had he lingered while she slept? Why had he wanted to lay beside her stroking her damned hair while he watched her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks?

  Curse his idiocy. Once again he was falling under the spell of a human, and once again he was too foolish to stop himself.

  As fury stole through him, so did sunlight and he turned to stone.

  *

  Martha awoke peacefully and blinked around the bedroom in disbelief. There was no violent awakening, no sitting up in bed screaming. Nope, there was just a gentle fluttering of her eyes opening and a small yawn. Waking up hadn’t been this pleasant in months.

  She licked her lips and reached for her water. Her hand came up empty. She patted the empty bedside table and froze as she remembered what happened. Everything flew to the floor as a result of Drago’s energetic lovemaking.

  Martha couldn’t help the shy smile that touched her lips. She didn’t want to admit that it had been the best night of her life, but well, it had. The man had been insatiable and had absolutely exhausted her. Yet, while she str
etched her arms over her head, she realized she wasn’t actually tired. She felt more energized than she had in a long time.

  After the third time they made love, she had dropped into a deep sleep. Sure there had been dreams, but just moments where she replayed what they did over and over. She had enjoyed them and hadn’t wanted to wake.

  Huh, making love with a gargoyle might actually be a cure for nightmares and exhaustion. Maybe other women should be told.

  Sharp annoyance pierced her. No, no other women needed to know about Drago. Briefly, she thought of the other human woman he had bedded, and she tried to banish her. Whatever Drago got up to before he met her was none of her business. She had certainly had her fair share of lovers before him. Unless… this other human woman wasn’t before her - maybe he was still seeing her. Not that he was really seeing Martha – they had slept together, that was it, and despite his vigorous performance, he had been reluctant to take her to bed at all.

  Technically she had no claim to his body or his affections, but the thought of any other woman having any kind of hold over him stirred some very uneasy feelings inside her.

  His half of the bed was empty. She could sense it when she awoke, the heat of his body obviously missing. She couldn’t help a pang of disappointment, but she wasn’t exactly surprised. She wondered where he was. With the other woman?

  Martha let out a groan and swung her legs out of bed, toeing the fallen detritus from her bedside table aside. She picked up the clock and balked as she noticed it was four in the afternoon. Jeez, she really had been tired. She sure as sugar felt fantastic, though.

  Standing, she stretched her long body and wandered over to the window. A lovely benefit of the beach house was that it was over a mile from the nearest neighbor. At this time of year, she didn’t have to fear neighbors getting a peek at her still naked body – she could wander through the whole house without a stitch on. Not like in Devil’s Hang, where the young boys in the house across the street had a telescope permanently pointed at her house. Little pervs.

  Probably, a good thing, too. Last night she had other things on her mind and hadn’t bothered closing any curtains.

  At least the electricity was working again, she could tell from the heat of the house. The heating had already tripped and turned on, making it nice and toasty enough to wander around naked. Not something she usually indulged in – mostly because of the pervs at home – but she was feeling good about herself at that moment.

  She peered out the window into the garden. It was still dusted with a little snow, but no more had fallen overnight. But, she couldn’t recall seeing that tree before. In fact, she didn’t think it was a tree. It seemed too broad and appeared to be stone.

  What the heck?

  Curiosity had her pulling on a sweater and pair of jeans, giggling like a schoolgirl when she saw the tattered remains of the jeans and underwear Drago destroyed the previous night.

  Carefully, she made her way through the house, trying not to groan at the destruction Drago had wrought. Lamps, pictures, and several chairs looked unsalvageable. Perhaps her mother would believe they really had an earthquake?

  Martha pulled on her boots and trampled out into the snow, freezing and gaping, but thankfully managing to hold back her urge to scream when she realized what the unexpected stone object was – Drago.

  She definitely wasn’t expecting that.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Drago roared as he awoke, spreading his wings and twitching his tail, allowing his limbs to loosen. His dreams had been even more unmanageable than usual. Perhaps because he knew how she felt, tasted, smelled, now he really couldn’t banish her from his thoughts. His dreams had been more realistic, more intense. Damn, he had made everything worse for himself.

  He growled and spun to find her watching him.

  Knights of the round table! He had admitted to a human that gargoyles existed, bedded her and now shown her that they remain stone during the day. Were there any more secrets he wished to divulge while he was at it?!

  Martha didn’t exactly look surprised, and in spite of having enjoyed every inch of her body only a matter of hours ago, he retained his leeriness around her. He couldn’t forget for a second that no matter what they had done or shared, she still had the power to hurt him and his clan.

  He snarled again, curling his lip – which was enough to make the humans of his new clan freeze with fear. She didn’t. No, she continued watching him while sipping on a steaming beverage. She was sitting on a swing and rocking slightly, one foot moving her backward and forwards while the other dangled. She was wearing thick, furry boots, and baggy clothing, with a large blanket, draped over her shoulders. But even those everyday, loose garments could not hide her loveliness, could not hide the curve of her leg, or the roundness of her breasts… His arousal rose again, and he cursed himself. How much of this female must he take before he had his fill?

  The sun had set of course, but the garden was illuminated by the whiteness of the snow that crunched underfoot. Her blue eyes shone in the moonlight as she watched him wordlessly.

  He was not sure what to do or say. His natural instinct wasn’t to say anything. Last night, speaking to her was the most verbose he had been in years.

  Finally, she sighed and stood up. “I think we should talk.”

  Words that any male – human or otherwise – dreaded. He considered whether he could fly away into the night, but as she stood on the porch, shivering, he feared she would not go in the house without him. He did not want her to freeze to death, so what choice did he have but to follow her?

  Yes, that was how he rationalized his behavior.

  *

  Casey White snatched up her phone as soon as she saw it was Blackthorne – he wasn’t a man to be kept waiting.

  “The woman you were checking into – Martha – where is she?”

  “Ah…” Casey panicked slightly. At that moment she had no clue. “I imagine at her house. I have another medical appointment with her next week.”

  Blackthorne grunted unhappily, annoyed perhaps that Casey didn’t psychically know that he wanted Martha in his sight right that second.

  “There’s been a development.”

  “Oh?” The word popped out eagerly. She was so rarely given much information – being the underling that she was. She was happy for any tidbit he threw her.

  “She was asking questions about her father and earlier today, he escaped.”

  “Escaped?” gasped Casey, “but how…”

  “The man’s psychic for heaven’s sake! He’s escaped dozens of times over the years, that’s why we usually keep him drugged, but his visions aren’t as coherent when he’s doped up so sometimes he needs to be lucid. Plus this time he had a little help; one of our other assets overcame her sedatives much more easily than we would have credited. She was spotted robbing a convenience store twenty miles from you – thankfully she ran before she could do too much damage.”

  “Twenty miles… you think he’ll go to Martha?”

  “He hasn’t in the past. Usually, he tries to get to Mexico, but he’s moving north this time. His ex-wife is in Switzerland, so she’s out the way. I want eyes on his daughter. If he does go for her, we need to intercept him first.”

  “I’ll… I’ll find her.”

  “See that you do. According to his latest visions, she’s going to be important to us. The last thing we want to do is have to kill her.”

  *

  “That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said talk?” murmured Martha.

  Drago returned to the bed carrying a washcloth, warmed with hot water. Gently, he pulled her legs apart and pressed it to her sex. She giggled, and he frowned.

  She had damn good intentions when she led him into the house. They were going to talk; she was going to find out who and what exactly he was. But, after a few moments of awkward silence, she had kissed him, and he had carried her to her bedroom, leaving behind another trail of destruction.

&nb
sp; He had washed her the previous night, too after each time they had sex. She had been too sated and punch-drunk to notice what he was doing really, but it had felt warm and pleasant, so she let him get on with it and watched him do it was a fuzzy smile on her face.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked gruffly.

  “No, it’s nice, it just tickles.”

  She laced her hands behind her head and breathed deeply. She had considered reaching for some clothes or something to cover her, but given that he had explored just about every inch of her already, it seemed a little pointless. He didn’t seem inclined to cover up. No, that magnificent weapon he sported between his legs was happily bobbing around and already half-hard again.

  “You do not ache?” he asked curiously.

  Okay, she wasn’t used to having this much sex within this space of time – she’d averaged out at once every two nights with previous boyfriends – but altogether she was fine.

  Martha shrugged. “Not really, why?”

  “Muriel used to…”

  “Muriel?” she pounced on the name.

  He looked like he immediately regretted mentioning her. “She used to be uncomfortable afterward.”

  “Ex-girlfriend?” Martha asked with forced nonchalance.

  He didn’t say anything but moved to discard the washcloth. He returned without looking at her and lay down beside her on the bed. It dipped at his massive weight, and she rolled toward him until she was virtually on top of his chest.

  Martha tried to prompt him. “Is she the human…”

  “Yes,” he grunted. His tail, hanging off the edge of the bed, thumped against the floor.

  Martha rearranged herself, so she was partially draped over him and while tense at first, he relaxed marginally and pulled a wing around her. It was like being covered with a soft leather blanket. She snuggled against its warmth. Huh, she was cuddling with a guy who had wings and a tail but it in no way felt weird. It seemed… natural.