Trace's Psychic

by Jory Strong

  * * * * *

  Trace slammed his fist against the wall as soon as the Morrisons left the observation room. “Son of a bitch, I hate this stuff!”

  Conner grunted. “Don’t we all.”

  Captain Ellis continued to stand in front of the one-way mirror. On the other side Dylan entered the room and picked up the glove. “That wasn’t a lucky guess,” he said. “The Morrison kid’s glove looked like at least ten of the other gloves, more if she didn’t remember who endorsed it.” He turned to Trace. “My gut is starting to churn harder on this one. Trace, as soon as the psychic gets done talking to the Morrisons, get her out of here. Conner, hunt down that reporter who put the Morrisons onto Dean.”

  * * * * *

  Aislinn felt completely drained by her meeting with the Morrisons. They’d wanted some kind of closure, some kind of understanding how she’d been able to do what she’d done. She wasn’t sure that meeting her had provided that for them. Some things required true belief. Magic was one of them.

  The door to the interrogation room opened and Trace walked in. Aislinn stood and hurried to him, wanting the comfort of his arms. But the tight expression on his face kept her from pressing against his body. Her heart stilled in her chest like a roller coaster car ready to plunge downward.

  Christ, he wanted her. Even right now with the Captain probably watching from the other side, Trace wanted to crush her little body against his. He was hard as a rock and hurting.

  “Can we leave now?” Aislinn said, her voice so soft and feminine that it felt like a hand was wrapped around his cock, stroking him.

  Trace gritted his teeth and tried to distance himself. He couldn’t.

  Fuck! How had this happened?

  The stunt with the glove should have killed off this attraction. But all he wanted to do was get her back to his house and pound into her.

  “Yeah, let’s go.” He stepped back so that she could precede him through the door, then gritted his teeth as a cloud of silky blonde hair brushed against his arm when she passed. He closed his eyes briefly and tried to rein in the erotic images that assailed him. What was he going to do about this? About her?

  Trace took her arm and guided her out of the station and back to his car. A reporter yelled a question but Trace ignored it, hoping it was directed at someone else. The question came again, followed by a chorus of other voices. He looked up this time and started cursing. Son of a bitch, it seemed like the place was crawling with reporters. How were they supposed to get any work done with a rabid audience like this?

  He got Aislinn into the car then climbed in after her and slammed the door. She reached over and laid a soft hand on his arm. For a second he could only stare at it.

  “If you’d rather take me to Sophie’s, I understand,” she whispered.

  Trace swung his attention to her face and was lost. The wariness he saw there pierced him like a physical wound. She was always so ready to run from him.

  In a heartbeat, anger transformed into something else, something equally primitive—possessiveness. She was his and it was time she knew it. He pulled her to him and settled his mouth over hers in a kiss that didn’t ask, but demanded.

  Aislinn’s body responded even as her mind tried to hold back, unsure of his mood, of the anger that resonated from him. But it was impossible to deny Trace when all she wanted to do was melt into him.

  With a whimper she pressed herself against him. The deep rumble of a satisfied growl vibrated through his chest, massaging her sensitive nipples. His tongue thrust against hers, then retreated. When she followed with her own he held it hostage in the wet heat of his mouth before releasing it and once again stroking into her. She was panting by the time he ended the kiss.

  Trace held her so that their faces were only inches apart. “No matter how mad I get about this psychic shit, I’ll never take it out on you,” he said, punctuating his statement with another brief fierce kiss. “So stop trying to run away from me. Understand?” Aislinn nodded. “Good.”

  He started the car then took her hand in his, holding it in his lap, against his hard need. By the time Aislinn entered his home, her heart was pounding, her pulse racing. Did she dare?

  She shivered at the sound of the door closing behind them and turned back to him before she lost her nerve. “I need you,” she whispered, curling her hands around the leather of his belt.

  His face tightened instantly as eyelids lowered, though not enough to cover the flame of arousal that her words had caused. “Show me,” he ordered and the rough timbre of his voice helped her find the courage to proceed.

  Aislinn licked her lips and felt the quick jump of his cock against the front of his pants. Heat rushed to her face. Her body pulsed with remembered pleasure. When he’d made love to her with his mouth and tongue it had been beyond anything that she could have imagined.

  She wanted to give him that same pleasure. She wanted to draw it out as he’d drawn it out for her.

  She undid his belt—slowly. Then pulled the zipper of his pants down, being sure that her fingers traced along the erection pressing against his jockeys.

  When the zipper was down, she peeled back his pants and leaned over, nuzzling his still-concealed cock.

  It twitched against her only seconds before Trace’s fingers were wrapped in her hair, holding her against him. “Don’t tease me, baby, unless you’re willing to give me what I want,” he growled.

  Aislinn edged his jockeys lower, just far enough that the tip of his cock was exposed. Trace’s washboard stomach tightened in response. She looked up to see his face.

  A wave of lust mixed with feminine power rushed through her at the feral light in his eyes, at the way his lips were opened slightly with anticipation. “Do it,” he ordered and because she wanted to, she did.

  Aislinn brushed a soft kiss over the tip of his penis and was rewarded by his hiss of pleasure as his hips pumped upward. She swirled her tongue over the bulbous head then took it into her mouth, gently sucking.

  Trace moaned and hunched over, tightening his hands in her hair before jerking away with a harsh, guttural sound. “Not here,” he said, picking her up and quickly moving toward the bedroom.

  As he walked he kicked off his shoes, but he didn’t strip out of the rest of his clothing. When he got to the bedroom he fell onto the bed with Aislinn, then maneuvered onto his back before shoving his pants and jockeys down so that the full, engorged length of his cock was exposed.

  Aislinn’s heart pounded at the sight of it, at the need she read in his face. She took his penis in her hand and stroked up and down its length, enjoying the texture and fullness of it. Trace’s hands went to her head, his fingers smoothing over her cheeks and lips before sliding into her hair. “Put your mouth on me, baby. Show me how much you like my cock.”

  She lowered her head but didn’t give in immediately. Instead she let her warm breath move over him, then her tongue. She laved him from the tip to the base, tracing the heavy veins with her tongue then investigating the darkening head with its wet slit.

  Trace arched and groaned beneath her. “Baby, you’re killing me. Put me in your mouth. Take me in as far as you can.”

  Aislinn shivered at the need in his voice. She’d never imagined doing this to a man, but her own desire was amplified by his. She wanted to give him everything, to be what he needed.

  She parted her lips, but only slightly, so that when he pushed upward, seeking the haven of her mouth, there was a brief resistance before the tip of him was in.

  Trace groaned. The streaks of pleasure ripping through his dick were almost more than he could take.

  She was making him crazy with her tight mouth and wet licks. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could stand before he grabbed her head and forced her to finish him.

  Christ, she turned him on, brought out a primitive part of him that he managed to keep suppressed most of the time. His hands tightened in her hair and she began sucking him, tentatively at first, then with more demand as
he began pumping in and out of her mouth.

  “That’s it, baby, show me how much you want me.”

  She answered by drawing him deeper into her mouth, into her throat, by swallowing. Trace closed his eyes, unable to stand the dual pleasure of watching and feeling what she was doing to him at the same time.

  He was desperate.

  Desperate to keep fucking her mouth.

  Desperate to rip himself away and shove himself into her pussy.

  Desperate to come.

  But the sensations coursing through his cock and up his spine were so intense, so unbelievable that he couldn’t think, couldn’t decide how he wanted to spend himself.

  Aislinn decided for him when her fingers slid down and cupped his balls, squeezing them in time to her sucking.

  With a shout, Trace exploded in a mind-numbing, seemingly endless orgasm, only releasing his grip on Aislinn’s hair when the last vestige of pleasure faded from his cock.

  When Aislinn lifted her flushed, dazed face and licked her lips, some of the blood pounding in Trace’s head rushed back to his cock. He pulled her alongside his body and pressed her back against the comforter.

  “That was so good, baby,” he whispered, his eyes staring deeply into hers, his face so close that the tips of their noses touched in a gentle caress. “Now I’m going to return the favor.” He pushed aside her shirt and bra then began kissing her neck, her shoulders, the slopes of her breasts.

  Aislinn closed her eyes and arched upward, trying to draw his attention to nipples that were hard and aching. She could feel him smile against her skin before moist lips moved slowly downward and a wet tongue circled her areola.

  “Trace,” she whispered, part demand, part need.

  In response he licked and pressed soft wet kisses against her aching flesh. Then took her nipple deep into his mouth, sucking and pulling on it as though he wanted to swallow it. Aislinn arched upward and cried out, digging her hands into his hair to hold him against her breast, barely aware of his hand slipping along her side until he pulled her pants and underwear away from her heated flesh and took her clit between his fingers.

  Trace left no room for resistance, even if she’d wanted to resist him. He circled and stroked her clit, then plunged his fingers into her and pumped in time to the deep hard sucks on her nipple. Fire raced through her, causing her toes to curl and her body to jerk. He responded by pressing more of his weight on her, holding her down in silent dominance. Against her hip he was rock-hard, the tip of him wet and dripping with his own excitement.

  “Please, Trace,” she whimpered.

  He left her breast and rose above her, his face flushed and feral looking as he hovered over her and put the engorged tip of his penis against her wet, open slit. “Watch,” he ordered, entering her by slow inches.

  She watched, unable to take her eyes away from the place where their bodies joined. Instinctively, she tightened on him, increasing the sensation, the pleasure.

  Above her Trace panted, closing his eyes briefly against the intensity, the furious need that was building. He wanted to slam in and out of her. He wanted to savor every slow inch.

  “Touch your clit,” he ordered, his voice harsh with need.

  She slid her delicate fingers over the engorged knob and shuddered, tightening on him like a wet, silken vise. “That’s it, baby, stroke yourself while I fuck you.”

  He began pumping, slowly at first, then with more force, mesmerized by the sight of his cock moving in and out of her, by the sight of Aislinn’s fingers caressing and massaging her flushed, swollen clit.

  When she cried out, arching and tightening on him in release, Trace couldn’t hold back any longer. He closed the distance between their bodies and pumped furiously as blinding pleasure whipped down his spine and through his cock.

  Even when the extreme pleasure had subsided, Trace didn’t want to pull out of her, didn’t want to leave the sweet haven of her cunt. Christ, what was he going to do about this? He didn’t need to be psychic to know that his cock wasn’t going to want anybody else for a long time, maybe ever. He buried his face in her hair and breathed her in.

  He was in trouble. It had never been like this with any other woman—never. He’d come twice, hadn’t even pulled his cock out of her and it was already filling with blood again, getting ready for a third time.

  He lifted his face and looked into hers. Fuck, she was so delicate, so fragile.

  Trace couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and tracing his tongue along the seam of her lips. She parted them immediately and met his tongue with the tip of hers. “You’re so sweet, baby,” he whispered, resting more of his weight on her.

  Aislinn whimpered and he had to close his eyes against the sight of her, against the almost immediate need to dominate that rose within him every time she made that soft, submissive sound. “Wrap you legs around my waist,” he ordered.

  She complied and his cock sunk deeper into her tight channel. “That’s right, baby, we’re going to take it slow and easy this time,” he whispered as his lips returned to hers.

  Aislinn shivered underneath him and Trace held himself still inside her. Christ, it was almost more than he could stand. He’d never had a woman react to him like she did. Hell, he’d never reacted to a woman like this. If it didn’t feel so good, it would scare the shit out of him.

  He touched her lips with his, stroked his tongue into her mouth in the same slow tempo that his cock moved in and out of her. Her fingers traced along his spine and Trace’s buttocks clenched in reaction. She whimpered again and shifted, opening herself wider, and a rush of primitive satisfaction washed over Trace. “What do you want, baby?”

  “You.”

  The heat of her seared his cock, the look in her face burned through Trace’s control. She was open to him in every way, vulnerable, and it made him want to possess her, protect her.

  His reality narrowed to just the two of them and he couldn’t take his eyes off of hers. He held out as long as he could, keeping it slow and easy as she writhed underneath him, tightening her legs around his waist and whimpering, her face full of helpless need.

  Fire ripped down Trace’s spine, his balls pulled tight against his body, and his strokes quickened. “Come for me, baby,” he panted, holding back until Aislinn sobbed and her orgasm washed over him.

  Aislinn had never imagined it would be like this. Never imagined the wanting, the needing, the closeness. Her heart argued that she’d found the one made for her, that what she felt with Trace was the heartbond of her mother’s people. But she didn’t dare speak to Trace about it. Didn’t dare ask him if he wanted more from her than this. She didn’t want to ruin this moment when their bodies were so tightly merged that it felt as though they were one person. Slowly their breathing returned to normal. Aislinn braced herself, ready for him to ask about what had happened at the police station, how she’d been able to recognize the glove. Instead he grunted and pulled away, sitting up, but not leaving the bed.

  “I’ve got to get back to work.” He smoothed a hand over her stomach before tracing upward to her breasts, then her lips, and finally cupping her chin. “You’ll stay put this time, right?”

  “Yes.”

  Trace leaned over and kissed her. “Good. You like Italian food?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll bring some home with me. Help yourself to anything you find here.” He kissed her again, this time more fiercely. “Don’t go outside. Don’t let anyone in.”

  “I need some of my things, so I can work.”

  Trace’s hand dropped away from his face, leaving the place where he’d touched suddenly cold. Aislinn could see the withdrawal echoed in the coolness of his eyes. “Just don’t let anyone in besides Sophie or one of the cops you know.”

  “Okay,” she said, a shiver of pain wrapping around her heart. If he never accepted this part of her, how could they truly be heartbonded?

  Maybe because she was neither fully human nor fully elf, there would b
e no heartbond for her. What if this was all she could expect in her father’s world?

  Trace rose from the bed and escaped to the bathroom. He let the hot water pound him while he tried to pull himself together. Shit, he was a mess. He was like some junkie, ready to rationalize, to look the other way, to avoid reality so he didn’t have to give up his drug, his high—Aislinn.

  It was like a cold slap every time he had to confront the psychic crap. Hell, he’d managed to avoid even thinking about what happened at the station. Instead he’d focused on getting her home, on getting her to agree to stay, on getting inside her sweet, wet channel.

  Trace turned so that the water pummeled his face. A soft click warned him of Aislinn’s presence, and then she was in the shower with him, gently taking the soap from his hands and smoothing it over his body. He groaned, but couldn’t bring himself to stop her.

  Aislinn immersed herself in the pleasure of simply stroking Trace’s body, of smoothing soap-slick hands over his muscles and watching as the suds washed downward. If this was all she was to have, then she’d enjoy every moment of it.

  Trace returned the favor, soaping his own hands and running them over her still-sensitive skin. She shivered when he got to her ears and traced the delicate butterfly earrings that covered Elven tips. Though the sensation was muted by the crystal-enhanced metal, her ears were an erogenous zone. Each stroke along them caused her nipples and cunt to tighten, to ache.

  When Trace replaced his fingers with his lips and tongue, Aislinn couldn’t stop the whimper of need that escaped. She pressed herself against him, her breath coming in short pants as his tongue outlined her ears then swirled delicately into the small canal before sucking the lobe into his mouth.

  Trace pushed his thigh between her legs and lowered his hands to her hips, holding her tight. Aislinn whimpered again and started riding him, pressing her throbbing clit against his water-slick flesh.