“Take off your coat.” He stepped back a pace and took away all contact. She could have whimpered but instead straightened her shoulders.
She undid the buttons slowly, one at a time, starting from the bottom. By God, she’d do her best to tease out any lascivious thoughts lurking behind his expressionless mask.
The sight of her stiletto heeled, knee-high boots, which looked like wide, black leather bands wrapped around her calves, made his hands flex on his rifle and his tongue sweep across his lips.
She paused, but he waved her on imperiously.
Drat.
A few more buttons revealed her bare thighs and her skirt’s hem, only a few inches below her hips.
His throat tightened but a tortured, raw sound of pure need escaped him.
Anticipation ran through her, fast as her lust. Her fingers lingered on her coat’s soft black wool, as if too nervous to open the next button.
He shoved his hand into his pocket again and clicked the controls. A single spotlight flashed into being and the library beyond suddenly came alive. Books covered every wall in a living pageant of police work. A large armchair crouched before a littered desk in one corner. But there was no other seating, no other signs of life beyond the cop who owned this house.
A soft pool of light illuminated Astrid, which allowed him to see everything and her to glimpse only a little.
His chest rose and fell more rapidly under his black vest. His golden ear cuff twined its way around his ear, delicate as a lover’s kiss and ready to help him draw power.
Perhaps he’d let her have a small taste now, nothing too big . . .
“Jake,” she whispered, “may I—”
“Continue.” The word was so guttural it barely sounded like language. He jerked his gun upwards to emphasize how she needed to behave. Light flashed along its barrel and bounced off his vest’s silver patch.
Dark eyes watched her, eager as the light yet more tightly leashed than the rifle.
Her knees weakened. If her magick was an unfair advantage, then so was his damn badge. “Ah, Jake . . .”
She forced her fingers to work the next button, and the next, and the next.
Finally she flung the coat’s panels open and let him see her own weapons. Black suede vest, purple silk tank, and black miniskirt—the last tight enough to reveal every detail of what lay underneath.
His expression hardened to allow no clue to his thoughts yet his eyes roamed over her as if he wanted to either memorize her or grab her. They swept her over and over again, always coming back to the line running from the deep vee of bare skin between her breasts.
Her body heated like a candle under his gaze. Her breasts tightened until the fragile cloth thrummed across her chest.
“Interested, are you?” he asked, very softly.
“Maybe.” She cursed her treacherous voice for turning husky. This would be easier if she could pretend some indifference. After all, she was usually very casual when she recharged at the aerie. Surely this required no emotional commitment.
He barked a short laugh, his eyes dark enough to drown sanity.
“Perhaps I should give you something else to think about.” He fished something narrow and long out of his pocket. “Take your coat off and toss it aside.”
What did he plan? She couldn’t see what he held.
“Move it along, Astrid.” The crack of his words, sinfully attractive as any leather flogger’s first slap, compelled obedience.
She shrugged her coat off first one shoulder, then the other. Its satin lining lingered over her leather vest like a lover’s hands, then fell to the floor.
Jake’s pulse drummed in his temple but he said nothing.
She kicked the soft, shapeless mass aside. It swirled like a flying carpet into the living room, where a dull thud marked its resting place. She didn’t care where it fell, only that Jake’s gaze now memorized every inch of silk and skin covering her.
Suddenly the micro miniskirt and delicate silk tank were far too much clothing for her overheated body to endure. She stretched and her vest slipped away from her throat, baring her collarbone.
“Turn around.”
She blinked at him, too startled to move rapidly. What on earth was he planning?
“You heard me.” His tone was now a crisp order, not a suitor’s plea. “Put your hands behind your back, Carlsen. You won’t find it pleasant if I do it.”
She faced the wall before any clear thoughts entered her head. Hot, sweet cream eased onto her thighs and begged for him.
She closed her eyes and silently fought for self-control. Anything not to leap on him. Dammit, she had to win this bet, if she was to take him back to the aerie.
His hot mouth nuzzled the nape of her neck until she moaned and leaned toward the wet incitement to hedonism, sparks flying through her veins like tracers.
“Jake, I thought . . .” She tried to remember something logical, something about his next step.
“Don’t think.” He kneaded her hip through the thin, stretchy fabric and every stroke sent tremors through her pussy. “Just give me your hand.”
She extended it to him behind her back, too blissful to worry about his intentions. He scraped his teeth lightly over her nape and she shuddered in pleasure, fires burning brighter in her core. She never noticed when her other hand fell into his.
But when the stiff, narrow bands locked around her wrists with a zzzip!, she jerked away from him. “What the hell are you doing, Jake?”
“Tying you up so you can’t cause any trouble.” He steadied her by the shoulders and turned her back to face him. His hands and voice were equally implacable, equally soft—and equally attractive.
She shivered, trapped and held by his barbaric fearlessness. Even his quilted vest emphasized it, thanks to its ammunition pouches.
“I agreed to . . .” she stammered. Surely she needed to say something, just for a chance at claiming him. For a hope of not risking too much. She wet her lips and tried again with a far too fragmented brain. “Our bet was . . .”
“Stay where you are.”
“What?” She blinked at him, baffled. Why on earth would he want her to stand in front of a bookcase, midway between a corner and an open door? What was he planning now?
“Obey me, Astrid.” That damn tone again.
A pulsating wave of lust poured from her breasts through her lungs and down her spine. She was wet, aching with it, scenting the air with it.
She closed her eyes and nodded. Dammit, why did she have to be a badge bunny for this one cop?
“And keep your eyes open!”
Shit. She whimpered but obeyed, unable to protest her inability to hide from his attractions.
“Good girl.” His smile was half feral when he set aside his rifle.
Maybe he’d shuck his pants fast and they’d fuck right away.
“I’m sure you know, Astrid, that well-made police gear needs to be properly looked after.” He unlatched the bottom clasp on his vest. “This exercise has its points but—”
Exercise? She was about to go insane!
He undid the next two clasps equally slowly. Her ragged breathing was the room’s only sound.
Oh, hell. His vest was still zipped, dammit, so she couldn’t see a thing.
He rubbed his chest and his fingers circled his pecs. Her nipples tightened hungrily.
“Perhaps . . .”
He toyed with the vest’s zipper. She watched him greedily, unable to breathe.
“I should . . .” He dragged the zipper leisurely down halfway, displaying more of his snug black T-shirt.
She moaned in frustration. Her eyelids were so heavy, they ached, yet she could have watched him for days.
“Or perhaps pay attention here.” Jake cupped his crotch and blatantly outlined his straining cock. “Do you think my officers would approve of so much stress?”
“Probably not,” Astrid managed to say. Her hips rocked back and forth, swaying to a beat older than time,
the same rhythm that powered the heat rippling through her veins.
He unzipped his vest and flung it into the living room. He unbuckled his heavy belt and his pants gaped slightly. Fulfillment lay behind them but she couldn’t reach it. She couldn’t even see her goal clearly.
“Oh, fuck, Jake.” Astrid writhed and rubbed her thighs together. “Can’t you . . . Can’t we . . .”
She stopped, a sahir too blind with lust to form words, even though they formed her magick’s tools.
“Hungry, Astrid?” Jake asked softly. He cupped her mound through her thin skirt.
She leaned into his big hand and whimpered hopefully. “Please, please.”
His big hand slid between her legs and past her thong. She ground herself down on his finger, too hungry to care about anything other than him and her own satisfaction.
“Interested in this cop?” he asked. His voice was so deep, it rumbled like a tactical assault vehicle rather than purred like a cat.
“Infinitely,” she assured him.
He stripped her fragile silk stockings down her thighs.
Good, now he was getting serious. Magickal fireflies dived through his jewelry and into him.
His mouth crushed hers, brutally possessive. She answered him eagerly, ecstasy starting to sing a siren song in her veins. But he broke the kiss off before the harsh contact could trigger her climax.
She staggered but couldn’t find the strength to protest.
He peeled his T-shirt off and dropped it to the floor.
Heaven help her, all those beautiful muscles . . .
She started to step closer but he growled, deep and low. “Stand fast, woman.”
She obediently froze, her knees wobbly. She’d get down on her knees to beg if he did much more.
Surely his cock was larger behind his quilted trousers. Her fingers flexed, eager to sample its size, and her pussy rippled.
“Pretty lady,” he breathed against her hair and rubbed himself over her hip, sinuous as a cougar.
“You’re mad,” she groaned and thrust herself back at him. If she found the right stroke, she might be able to come.
“Silly girl.” He kissed the top of her head and shoved his hand down the back of her skirt. It was so tight that the fabric drew him closer until his fingers were inside the cleft of her ass.
“Damn thong,” he grumbled and ripped it off from under her skirt.
She wriggled harder, anything to encourage him. “Oh yes, Jake, just like that.” Her eyes closed to focus on the delicious surge of lust down her spine and into her pussy.
“That’s my baby.” He kissed her so marvelously, she barely noticed when his hand left her ass.
She was drowning in sensation—his chest rubbing against hers, his nipples somehow abrading the silk until they were imprinted on her skin. His trousers’ matte perfection, rougher than satin but finer than sand, which caged her thighs and made her cream sizzle. And, oh, the thrust and sweep of his tongue into her mouth in a delicious promise of more intimate delights to come.
“Jake.” Words, every sahir’s lifeblood, faded before the need to hold and encourage him.
He lifted her up slightly and sat down in the big armchair, with her astride his lap. An instant later, he snipped off the plastic tie around her wrists.
Astrid barely glanced at her free hands. Instead she put them into action and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He chuckled, harshly triumphant as a returning soldier, and deepened his kiss. She sank into it, finally able to enjoy him without hindrance. She ran her hands through his unruly shock of black hair, and golden dragonflies danced over his ear cuff.
Yes, oh yes, magick was pouring into him through his kubri connection to the earth.
“Vest off,” he muttered and tugged the fragile scrap of leather down first one arm then the other.
Her balance changed with his every move. Her very short skirt slid up. For the first time, she was able to feel his very aroused cock and the surety of forthcoming climax.
She wiggled slightly to confirm it, then again to find the best possible spot for present enjoyment. His cock against her clit, his balls against her ass if she leaned at just the right angle . . .
“Astrid, dammit, don’t start that yet.” His clenched tones sounded like he was gritting his teeth, but she didn’t look.
She was much more interested in how his cock had surged to meet her—and how much wetter she’d become. She rocked against him, long, hot waves pulsing from her breasts and down her spine.
He started to lift her arms again to remove her silk tank top. But she was too absorbed in rolling herself over and over again across his crotch to lift her hands from his shoulders. Oh, the sparks shooting up her spine every time her clit rubbed against his stomach.
Nothing mattered more than uniting herself with the energy he was raising up.
Nothing mattered more than uniting herself with Jake.
“Astrid, for the love of God, you’re torturing me.” He clasped her hips.
“You know”—her breath caught in her throat when his cockhead nudged her pussy—“how to fix that.”
Her eyelids were too heavy to lift. She was a being of pure sensation, pure magick catching power from the cosmos.
“Astrid!” He wrapped his arm around her waist and hastily lifted his hips out of the chair. A clumsy shove, aided by her magick, sent his trousers down his legs.
He landed back in his chair with a thud and her kneeling above him.
“Now,” she announced firmly and clasped his face in her hands.
“Anything I want?”
She stared at him. She was so needy that orgasm threatened to rip her guts out if she didn’t satisfy it.
“You got it.” She pushed madness back far enough to summon two more words. “What else?”
“A condom . . .”
Ah, yes, he’d be happier with that key element of farasha lifestyle than an explanation of sahir reproduction. Astrid snapped her fingers and sheathed him in the latest high-tech version, one used at the aerie between houseguests.
She caressed his head and let his magick flow through her bones, up through his spine, across her hands, down into her pussy where it met his balls . . .
“Holy fuck, Astrid.” Both of his hands locked down on her waist.
She arched her back, millimeters away from capturing and riding him.
He squeezed tight and forced her to stop.
“Anything I want, right, Astrid?” He dragged the words out of his heaving chest. “For one week, you work for me.”
Her eyes flew open. His aura surrounded him, golden as the sun and blinding as the desperation pulsing between her legs. His ear cuff was incandescent.
Certainty tugged at her.
She nodded. “Agreed.”
His fingers bit into her. He raised her slightly and speared her on his cock.
“Damn, you’re beautiful, Astrid.”
She howled happily and pushed down. He surged upward to meet her and her hungry muscles grabbed him. Yes, oh yes.
Again and again, closer and closer, sparks circled and dove through them until fire wove deeper and deeper into her bones, etching the path for climax to follow.
Suddenly the last remaining scrap of silk shifted across her ribs and up to her throat. Jake’s warm, wet mouth captured her breast. He swirled his tongue over her nipple and her breath lurched to a hopeful stop.
She hung suspended, every particle, every bit of magick waiting for his next move.
He suckled hard—and she exploded into rapture, tumbling through the stars like a newborn sun. Her body shattered, dissolved, remade itself from magick etched with his blood and passion.
“Jake!” Her fingers dug deep into his shoulders in gratitude and joy.
“Oh, fuck.” He jolted under her and flung his head back, his expression an astonished rictus of ecstasy. Hot, wet pulses bombarded her sweetly, then disappeared into the condom.
She turned her face in
to his shoulder and breathed in his sweat, the one fluid she could openly indulge in. Their breathing and heartbeats tumbled over and over each other until at last they slowed to a decorous walk.
Had he noticed the change in his aura?
“Bed,” Jake said in the same matter-of-fact tone his chief would use to announce a shift change. He stood up, still holding her, and pulled her skirt over her head. He flung it across the room where it caught on a bookshelf and hung like a battle flag, a warrior’s symbol of triumph.
Astrid choked at its blatancy and her body’s immediate surge of arousal in response.
Jake glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “Quite a mess, isn’t it?”
“The living room is worse,” Astrid said faintly. Good God, how had they managed to fling so much clothing so far? “We should hang everything up.”
“Like this?” He abruptly pulled her purple silk tank top over her head and tossed it onto the newel post.
“Jake!”
“Are you backing out now, Carlsen?” He raised an eyebrow at her in challenge.
“Not a damn bit, Hammond.” No matter what hell you dig up, we’ll at least have tonight.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jake tied off the latest condom and leaned out of bed, pleased he’d had the foresight to hide a small trash can inside the nightstand. He’d never done it before, not that he’d brought anybody back here since college. But he didn’t want to spend an unnecessary second away from Astrid, nor did he want her to be offended.
She muttered something and shifted onto the sheets away from him, totally relaxed. His aching cock immediately twitched and asserted its eagerness to explore her backside, echoing her insouciance.
How many times had they fucked in the last six hours? Four—or was it six? How many orgasms had she enjoyed? More than that! Yet she looked fresh and happy, like an Olympic athlete ready to stride into the stadium.
Jealousy flashed through him, fiercer than a gun’s muzzle flash across a darkened alley. Who’d taught her that, her dead husband? How could he compete with a ghost?
Not well, he admitted reluctantly, then shied away from why he’d want to challenge a specter for anything.
The Shadow Guard Page 13
