Mirrorlight

by Jill Myles

  It was good, but…it wasn’t enough. The thought flashed through her mind even as she continued to rub her clit, shuddering through the last of the orgasm. His hot gaze moved to where she played with her sex, his hand sliding toward her inner thigh, and another burst of desire rocked through her.

  “Yes,” she said, her legs quivering as his hand moved forward. This was what she wanted. This was what she’d been waiting for.

  The backs of his fingers grazed against her thigh and then stopped. He had leaned forward to touch her, and as she gazed up at him, she saw well over half of his body had come through the mirror. His hands, his thighs, and the bulge in his breeches threatened to cross as well. His face remained on the other side of the mirror, along with his torso.

  He could reach through to touch her—but he couldn’t pass through. For some reason, he could not move forward more, and her body—her aching, needing sex—lay just out of his reach.

  A frustrated look crossed his face, and she knew her own echoed it.

  She sat up and pulled his hand into her own, standing. It was warm against her own, felt real and heavy. He did exist. She couldn’t stop the smile that curved her mouth and she took his hand and tugged him forward.

  He smiled slowly at her, the look meltingly sexual, and tried to step through the mirror. Again, he was stopped by some unknown force.

  “Oh,” she said softly, placing her other hand against the glass and watching it sink through. “That’s not fair. We can touch each other, but we can’t kiss, can we?” He said something, but she couldn’t hear him. Frustration welled through her. They could touch, but…that was it? She couldn’t even have a conversation with him.

  His hand moved to her cheek, grazing it gently and he mouthed something. She knew what he said without even hearing the words. Don’t be sad. She gave him a soft half-smile in return, and slid her hand through the mirror to touch his bare chest. It felt the barest cool sensation—like slipping her hand through a waterfall—and then her flesh touched the warm expanse of muscle.

  His eyes closed, as if savoring her touch.

  She wasn’t able to stop the small sound of pleasure that escaped her throat. “You feel very, very real under my hands,” Cora murmured, tracing one defined pectoral with her fingertips, the grazing touch butterfly light. “Real and warm and…” her gaze dropped to his trousers, where his cock tented the front. “…aroused.” His gaze burned hotly into her own.

  A smile touched her lips and she slid her hand down his chest, touching him, savoring the feel of his skin. He copied the motion, brushing his knuckles across the creamy expanse of her breasts and grazing her nipples. She gasped at the sensation and leaned in, silently begging for his hand to go back to her breast.

  Aric complied, one arm hooking around her waist and pulling her against him. She fell against the mirror, the barrier shimmering with light, and her breasts hit his chest.

  Whatever barrier it was, it was only a slight impediment, and she planned to take full advantage of his touch. His hand slid over her waist and down to her bottom, cupping it as she closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his body against hers. “So warm…so good,” she whispered. “I’ve wanted this for days now. Wanted to touch you, too.” His large hand palmed her breast. His lips moved as if talking to her, asking her if she liked it.

  “Yes,” she whispered to the mirror. “I do. I love your touch.” His thumb brushed her nipples, teasing the peaks with skill. His fingers felt callused against her skin, hard and rough—the contrast was surprisingly erotic. The man that held her so gently was a warrior who made his living with his hands and his sword…and yet he held her so very gently against him.

  She arched into his caress. “Touch me more. Please. And…I want to touch you.” Experimentally, she slid her hand down his stomach, watching his face—so close to hers and yet still so far away. Her fingers brushed the trail of hair below his navel and then met the waist of his trousers.

  In response to her question, his hand slid between her legs, touching the damp curls there. His mouth whispered one word she couldn’t hear, but she knew what it was.

  Yes.

  Her hand slid into his pants, fingers gliding under the waist. Underneath, he wore nothing, and her fingertips grazed the head of his cock, already wet with pre-cum.

  Encouraged, she pulled her hand free and untied the laces of his pants, sliding them down his waist and exposing the hard, erect length of his cock. Longer and thicker than her last boyfriend by far, she made a small noise of pleasure at the sight. Most cocks were not beautiful, but this one was well sculpted and long, with a thick purple head, droplets of pre-cum beading on the tip. She slid her finger over one of the droplets, rubbing it against his skin, then brought the drop to her mouth on the far side of the mirror. He tasted warm and salty, just like she imagined he would.

  A surge of need pulsed through her, and she sank to her knees, her hands sliding down his thighs until she sat at his feet, arms and breasts through the mirror. Her hand stroked his cock once, and then her other hand tugged at his thigh, pulling him forward, closer to the mirror. His cock pierced the shimmering mirrorlight and appeared on the other side. She sank toward it, greedy to taste it with her lips, to give him the intense pleasure he’d given her.

  Her mouth caressed the salty tip, brushing it against her lips and then licking the pre-cum off with slow, sensual licks. “You taste so good,” she whispered against the head, stroking the root of his cock with her hands. “Better than I could have imagined.” She wrapped her lips around the head and sucked, then slid it further into her mouth, pulling deeper and increasing the suction. His hand fisted in her hair and she expected him to thrust in her mouth, force his cock deeper into her throat, but instead, he pulled her off and tilted her head back with his hand, until she looked up and saw his face.

  His other hand was pressed to the mirror, splayed against the glass to support himself.

  His handsome face was tormented with pleasure. The look in his eyes was wild with desire, and she grew wet just looking at his expression. He was so very sexy.

  Mine, she thought. All mine.

  She reached for his cock again, only to have him stop her. His hand slid out of her hair and to her shoulder, and he pulled her upright, their faces so close, she could almost feel his breath on her skin. Yet the glass separated them.

  He said something, his lips moving.

  She couldn’t understand it, and shook her head. She didn’t know what he wanted.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I don’t understand.”

  His hands went to her hips and she waited, her breath catching. To her surprise, he turned her around, until her back pressed against the mirror. His hand went to her lower back and he pushed her forward and she grasped the arms of the chair, bent over. His hands then pushed aside her slippery robe, exposing her ass.

  Cora gasped.

  She looked over her shoulder and saw that he was kneeling on the other side of the mirror, his hands flexing and kneading the soft flesh of her buttocks. He pulled her backward and she jerked at the sensation, expecting to feel the mirror hit her, but all she felt was the cool tingle of it parting to allow her body through.

  One of his hands skimmed over her bare buttock, his thumb grazing the cleft of her ass. She squirmed at that, her hands gripping the chair arms tightly, but she didn’t move.

  She wanted…more. “Please, Aric.”

  The hand moved downward a bit more, and she felt the other one press on her back again, instructing her to lean forward. She did, panting with excitement and laying her head on the cushion of the chair, realizing that doing so lifted her ass into the air, higher than the rest of her body. Was that what he wanted? Cora shifted nervously, wanting to please her silent partner.

  She found out in the next moment—his hands braced on both sides of her buttocks, parting the flesh. His knee nudged her legs apart and no sooner had she spread her legs a bit wider than she felt his mouth descend on her pu
ssy, his tongue flicking against the opening to her sex.

  Her cry of surprise turned into a low moan of pleasure. Her hips jerked when his tongue thrust into her core, and his hands grasped her tighter, holding her down against his mouth. Weak with need, she clung to the chair and whimpered with desire as each stroke of his tongue seemed to spear even deeper into her sex, her hips jerking in response to each stroke. Oh god. She’d been slick and wet with need before, but it was nothing compared to what she felt now. Her pussy clenched when his tongue speared her again, and her thighs trembled.

  It was so good.

  She could feel his hot breath against her flesh, feel the rasp of his tongue as it danced along her sex, teasing her wet folds before sliding into her hot core again. Her eyes closed and she pictured his beautiful, rugged face between her legs, and the orgasm that had been rising clenched through her body, warmth releasing from her sex and a loud cry of pleasure escaping her. Her body racked with shudders as the orgasm spiraled through her, and Aric continued to work her pussy, his tongue darting against her core over and over again as she came, as if lapping up the juices there.

  “Oh my god,” she whispered against the chair cushion. That had been the most intense orgasm ever. If people could purr, she’d totally be purring at the moment, especially since Aric’s hands continued to knead her buttocks, as if he couldn’t stop touching her. He pressed a light kiss to one, and then braced his hands on her hips, pulling her back against him once more. She felt the head of his cock nudge the slippery flesh between her legs. He felt massive against her. Her body tensed, waiting for the invasion, the slam of his cock into her pussy. Aric was large, and it had been many months since she’d had sex. It might hurt.

  But she was wrong. The head of his cock breached her entrance and she gave a slight wriggle at the delicious burn, trying to adjust. His cock was thicker than she’d thought, and the sensation stole her breath away. Her hips flexed a little, the motion involuntary.

  His hands slid over her body, her buttocks, her hips, and she imagined that if she could hear him, he’d be whispering soft words to her. Readying her.

  She gave her hips a slight buck again, indicating that he should press forward.

  Aric pushed forward, sinking further into her body, inch by slow inch, and Cora bit her lip, utterly aware of his cock deep inside her. There was no pain or discomfort, only the wonderful fullness of him. When he’d fully sheathed himself, he gave a small thrust and rocked her hips back against his.

  She moaned. God, he felt so good inside her, filling her.

  He pulled back and thrust deep, and she could feel the sensation down to her toes.

  When he thrust a third time, she began to raise her hips to meet his. His hips began to work faster and faster, until he was pounding into her from behind and she was clutching at the chair, trying to hold on as he fucked her ruthlessly. Over and over he speared her, his hips moving impossibly fast, building the friction between them until she was crying out with each thrust—even though she knew he couldn’t hear it.

  His thrusts became slower, each one pushing deeper than the last. Her hips rolled with each movement, her toes curling each time his sac slapped against her pussy, his cock driving into her.

  The next orgasm began to build through her, and she rolled her hips with each thrust feverishly, losing all thought except for pursuing that sensation she so desperately needed. His fingers dug into her skin and his thrusts grew wild, and she cried out hard as the next orgasm rolled through her body, her muscles clenching with stimulus overload.

  As the shudder of her orgasm rocked through her, she felt him give one last wild thrust and then he came as well, his seed spilling inside her, his body tense, hands locked at her hips.

  Cora panted for a few minutes, still hugging the chair that had been her anchor. She straightened as she felt him slide from her body, his hands still stroking her skin as if he needed to keep touching her, and she reached out for him as well, turning to see his face, sweaty with their lovemaking, a hint of a sated smile tugging at his mouth. He took her hand in his and kissed the palm, and she melted a little.

  “I just want you to know I don’t give it up for just any old mirror,” she said teasingly, then sighed when he gave her a look that said he didn’t understand her words. “Nothing.

  Never mind.”

  He grinned and tried to reach back through the mirror to touch her again, but his hand smacked the glass on his side. The mirrorlight began to fade.

  “Oh no,” Cora said, giving him a sad look. “Don’t leave me just yet. Please.” But the mirror continued to fade, and she watched him plant a hand on it, as if trying to push his way through and finding it impossible. The mirror gave a strange shove, as if ejecting her, and she pulled her hand free.

  Then the mirrorlight faded and she was left alone in her room, her legs boneless with pleasure. And as she watched the mirror fade and shimmer back to normal, Cora felt lonelier than ever.

  Chapter Six

  She fell asleep in front of the mirror. She’d tried summoning him again after a time, wanting to just talk to him—try to communicate somehow. When he was gone, she felt so very lonely. But he didn’t return, no matter how frantically she tried to summon him by invoking any sort of emotion. Perhaps she could only call him to her once a day. With that thought in mind, she pulled the blankets down on the floor next to her and slept.

  When she awoke the next morning, the mirror was as dull as ever. Seeing it made her a little sad, and she showered and dressed and then returned to her room, strangely reluctant to leave the mirror alone. What if she missed his return? What if it wasn’t tied to emotion after all? What if he just came to see her?

  Muffin came by a few hours later, this time without any gifts of food. Cora wasn’t sure if she was thankful or a little sad at that.

  “Big day today!” the old woman sung out.

  Cora paused where she was pouring coffee for them in the kitchen. “Big day? How so?”

  “Oh, lots of big things going on,” she said, reaching for the cup that I offered her.

  “But first tell me…did your nice young man stop by again last night?” She blushed, wondering how much Muffin knew. “It took a bit, but I was able to summon him again.”

  “Strong emotion,” Muffin said, crowing with delight. “I told you so! He must like you a lot to keep coming back. Most only see him once.”

  Cora’s thoughts flew back to last night, his hands grasping her hips, his cock pounding into her flesh as she cried out with one of the many orgasms he’d given her.

  She certainly hoped that he liked her. “Yes, I think we have a…a bond of some kind.” Muffin snorted. “More like animal attraction, if you ask me.” It wasn’t possible for her face to turn any redder. She touched the back of her hand to her cheeks in embarrassment, but couldn’t stop the smile that crept across her face. “At least you don’t think I’m crazy.”

  “Crazy?” Muffin put a hand to her breast in outrage. “Dear me no, girl. I’ve been trying to find that boy a nice normal girl for centuries. He’s a picky sort.” Centuries? The old woman was senile. Cora shook her head slightly, still smiling as she thought of the mirror. Maybe she could pass him a book, teach him how to read. They could communicate by whiteboard…her thoughts raced ahead. Having a relationship with a man trapped in a mirror was not the most sane thing, but she wanted him, and she’d do whatever it took to keep him in her life. “Do you suppose Aunt Martha would let me buy the mirror to take home with me?”

  Muffin slurped her coffee and then glanced over at Cora. “Why bother?” Why bother? Cora blinked. “Well, I’m only going to be here for a few weeks, remember? Then I’ll have to head back to the states.”

  The old lady waved a hand at her. “He’ll be long gone before then, my dear.” Fear seized Cora’s muscles, and she felt time slow around her. “Gone…?”

  “Oh yes,” said Muffin. “The anniversary of the big fire is coming up. Today. Or tomorrow. Maybe next w
eek? I can’t recall, but on that day, he’ll disappear for another year or two, or ten…” She wrinkled her nose, thinking hard. “I forget how long exactly.” A year? Ten years? “Didn’t he…die in the fire?”

  Muffin shrugged.

  Her heart hurt just thinking about it, and she felt tears prick behind her eyes. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Not unless you can travel through time and save the poor man from roasting like a turkey.”

  Cora flinched. She thought of the mirror, of the way it had parted to let them touch, but when they were done, shoved them apart again. If only she could pull him all the way through. He was real. He wasn’t…he couldn’t be dead.

  Muffin chattered on, finishing her coffee and ignoring the half-hearted responses that Cora gave her. She eventually left, promising to return tomorrow with more baked goods.

  She mentioned a chess pie, and Cora was willing to bet that she’d find a rook or a pawn stuffed in the crust—that would be Muffin’s sort of thing. She smiled at the old woman and waved her down the road.

  As soon as the door was shut and Cora was alone, she bolted for the gift shop. She had to find out more about the fire that Muffin had mentioned. Surely there would be something—anything—in one of the books that went into detail. What day it happened.

  She needed to know. Dread crept through her but she fought it back, reaching for the first book.

  Several hours later, she’d gone through the stacks and stacks of obscure books once again, reading for details about the fire. When she’d found nothing, she went back and started re-reading again, hoping that she’d missed something. Every single book about Stonewood Abbey gave a hand-wave to the history of the establishing family, but not many details. The ones that did mention the fire didn’t mention a date.

  She needed that damn date. Panic crept through her, starting with a small spark and fanning to a blaze by the time she’d gone through every book a third time. She raked her hair off her forehead in frustration, wanting to scream. Cora stared at the stacks of books all over the floor, then sighed and picked up the closest one again. She’d just have to keep looking—