by Patti O'Shea
Desire galvanized her to action. Mika stepped on the back of one sneaker, then the other to get them off. With her shoes out of the way, she lifted a leg, trying to pull out of the faded blue denim. The shift in position pressed Mc-Cabe more firmly against her. He broke their kiss with a low groan and her eyes closed as she relished the insistent prodding of his flesh against hers.
She wasn’t sure how he did it, but her jeans ended up puddled at her feet. Conor lifted her out of them and strode from the room. Something inside her eased as he put her on the bed and covered her with his body. He wouldn’t back out now. Right?
“Get out of those jeans.” She nearly growled the words.
“What?”
Instead of answering, she shoved at his waistband, trying to get him naked.
“You’re impatient,” he told her, but it didn’t sound like a complaint.
McCabe got off the bed, but he didn’t strip like she’d ordered. “Hang on,” he said.
Mika propped herself up on her elbows in time to watch him head out the door. She was going to kill him. No jury in the world would convict her after she told them how many times he’d left her wanting. When she heard him leave the house, she dropped back to the mattress and put her arm over her eyes.
Who said Mahsei weren’t scary demons? She’d managed to drive Conor out of his own home.
But not permanently. She sat up when he reentered the room. “You’re back.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t be?” He didn’t give her time to answer. “I had to get these out of the truck before things went any farther.” Conor tossed a box of condoms on the nightstand.
“Three dozen?” she teased.
“I can always run out and get more.” The delivery was deadpan, and it took her a minute to realize he was making a joke. Delighted, she laughed. Until he reached for his pants.
As he pushed his jeans off, Mika caught her breath. The man was magnificent. He fished a condom out of the box. Without taking her eyes from him, she lifted her hips and slid her panties off. She wanted nothing to impede him when he came back to bed.
His eyes ran over her, drinking in every inch. Shifting restlessly, she waited for him. And waited. Mika ran her fingers over her abdomen, then stopped.
“Yeah,” Conor said thickly. “Touch yourself for me.”
Maybe she’d teased him with that one time too many. “I want you touching me,” she said.
“I will.” He climbed on the bed and sat between her ankles. His hands parted her thighs further, exposing her most intimate flesh. “But I want to watch you touch yourself.”
“Will you do it too?” she asked.
He shook his head almost before she’d finished. He looked sheepish. “I’m…too close.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke, just stared at each other. Mika knew she could break him, have him on top of her and inside her in seconds. He was close, she could see that. But how much hotter could she make him if she did as he wanted? How much better would it be, the longer they felt this uncontrollable desire?
Smiling slightly, she glided her hand down from where it rested on her stomach and opened herself, arching her hips to give Conor a really good view. Since she was so wet already, she didn’t bother to moisten her fingers. Slowly she teased herself, and gave some gasps and moans for his enjoyment.
Soon Conor’s hands were on the inside of her knees, and Mika lifted her hips as she groaned, both simulating what she wanted to be doing and forcing his palms along her skin. As she rubbed and twisted, she surreptitiously kept her eyes on his face. That would be her best gauge of her performance—and judging from what she saw, she was doing a damn good job.
One of his hands left her. He only stroked himself a few times, but it was enough for her to know that she was affecting him the way she wanted. Mika bit her lip to keep from grinning. While she truly was aroused from their play, she wasn’t going to climax—not from caressing herself. But she would give Conor the best show possible.
He surprised her by running a finger through her folds, and this time her groan was real. His calloused touch made all the difference in her pleasure. When he pulled his hand back, she could see her moisture shining on his index finger, and she almost spontaneously combusted when he licked it. Her breathing hitched as she imagined him tasting her for real, but she’d ask him to do that another time.
“McCabe, I’m not going to come without you inside me,” she warned, “and if you’re waiting for that, we’re going to be here a long time.”
“Stubborn,” he complained.
Mika quit the game. She went to her knees as close to Conor as she could get and said, “I’ve given myself enough orgasms since we met. It’s your turn—and not with your fingers. Do you hear me?”
Conor nodded, his eyes burning with red fire, and he reached for her. Before she knew what he was up to, he had her on his lap and straddling him. Mika shimmied forward until her breasts were against his chest. His cock rubbed at her opening and she almost came right then.
She kissed him then, and somehow it wasn’t the ravenously hungry kiss she’d meant to give, but a slow, tender caress that held too much emotion. It made her uneasy, but when she lifted her head and saw the look on his face, she couldn’t regret it—not when it obviously meant the same to him. Reaching out, she ran her fingers up his jaw.
Conor took hold of her hips, pulling her more snugly against him, and Mika gasped. He bore her down to the bed. Right now, she had a Kiverian male with glowing eyes to pleasure and to take pleasure from; she was going to enjoy every minute. She’d wanted this for so long.
Conor braced his hands on either side of her head and, for a moment that seemed to stretch for eternity, he only stared. It was intimate, unsettling, but somehow exactly right. “Take out your contacts,” Mika ordered. She wanted to see his eyes the way they were supposed to be—bright green and shining.
He pulled back and popped his lenses out. There was no trash can nearby, so he put them on the nightstand next to the bed. Mika parted her thighs as he came back, inviting Conor to lie between them. She closed her eyes to savor the feel of him, then met his gaze again. “Thank you,” she said, running her finger lightly across his cheekbone.
Without a word, he kissed her. For all the earlier frenzy, Conor was taking his time now. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, but it didn’t speed him up. The kiss remained leisurely, as if they’d already sated themselves.
Mika brought her legs up, tilting her pelvis toward his. That ended the kiss in a hurry. She nipped his lower lip, and his eyes opened. With a smile that was tremulous, she asked, “How much longer? We both want it. Come on, Conor.”
There was a flare of red, and he tried to smile back. It looked more like a grimace, but she knew what he meant. “I want to savor our first time,” he said.
Aw, man. “It’s already special,” she assured him around the lump in her throat. “Because it’s you.” She hoped he attributed the thickness in her voice to excitement, not sappy emotion. But as she looked at Conor, tremors of need passed through her in waves, and she realized he vibrated the same way. That made his intent to take this slow all the more meaningful.
She reached between their bodies and curled her hand around him, watched the muscle in his cheek begin to jump, and she smiled again. Wriggling to align herself to him, she began to guide Conor inside her. His broad head parted her, pulsed briefly before he started to penetrate and fill her body.
“As hard and fast as you always wanted,” she reminded him, withdrawing her hand, not wanting to impede him.
Despite her invitation, Conor didn’t move fast or take her hard. Instead, he eased forward one excruciating millimeter at a time. Impatiently, Mika tried to hurry things up, but Conor took hold of her hips, preventing her.
“Damn it, I’m Mahsei, remember?”
“Yeah,” he gritted out. “I also remember how tight you were around my fingers. We’ll do hard and fast later.”
She started to argue, but his expression told her not to waste her breath. With a mental shrug, she decided to enjoy the pace, and she closed her eyes to focus on the experience of Conor entering her.
The steady pressure intensified and Mika braced herself, but before it became painful, he stopped. It cost McCabe; she could see that when she gazed at him again. The man looked as if he were the one feeling the pain: sweat covered him, and his grimace was fierce. Turning her face, she gently bit his throat to show her gratitude.
He seemed to know when she was ready for more, and he resumed moving. Again, he stopped when she started to feel any discomfort. He lowered his head to give her a gentle kiss and said, “We’re almost there, honey.”
At last he was all the way inside her, and Mika had to concede that McCabe had been right—she couldn’t have handled hard and fast, no matter her bluster. Even slow and easy had given her a few moments of unease.
Tentatively, Conor rocked his hips. He watched her closely, but she must have passed the test. He began a gentle thrusting. It wasn’t until she moved with him that he smiled and picked up speed.
One of his hands went to her hip, helping her find the rhythm. As she caught on, as they became more attuned to each other, and as she became accustomed to his great size, Mika began to feel really good. Better than good—extraordinary. A soft whimper escaped her, and the way Conor’s eyes blazed made her cry out. She became lost in him, and in the intoxicating pleasure his body was giving her. There was nothing for her except Conor.
He shifted her, moving faster. Mika felt something wonderful approaching, a climax better than she’d ever known, and words started tumbling out of her mouth—words spoken in an ancient language. Words she never thought she’d say aloud. They seemed to incite Conor further, and he gave her the hard thrusts she’d begged for earlier. She rolled her hips each time he buried himself inside her, gasping as euphoria built.
Then he leaned forward and bit her. The pleasure-pain drove her over the edge. Arching her hips as much as she could, Mika froze as she found fulfillment, letting the ecstasy wash over her in waves.
Conor held on to her but didn’t stop. Her moan became a wail, and still he moved. Her first orgasm had barely subsided before her second hit, and this one was even stronger. She barely heard her voice over the roaring in her ears, didn’t know what she was saying. Or what language she was speaking.
Finally, finally, McCabe let go of all control. Almost blind with her own pleasure, Mika saw the red burst in his eyes. Her rapture was so extreme that she needed his body as an anchor.
She heard him choke back some strange words, and then he stiffened, pouring his seed into her. It triggered her third climax and she cried out even more loudly than before.
It wasn’t until later, as he lay boneless on top of her, as she stroked his body with gentle hands, that Mika realized something and froze. At the end, she had spoken English. The words echoed in her brain. She’d said, I love you, Conor.
Oh, damn. She could only hope that he hadn’t heard.
Chapter Twelve
Mika lay atop Conor sometime later, her legs on either side of him. This was one time where even he had to appreciate being half-Kiverian. If they were completely human, she didn’t think either one of them would be able to walk. Of course, if they were completely human, he wouldn’t have been able to get hard so often. She smiled against his shoulder.
He was still mostly erect, still pressed against her belly, but there was no urgent need to move. Not yet.
Conor had surprised her. She’d expected straight missionary-style sex from him, but he’d been less stodgy than she’d assumed. In fact, she couldn’t think of a position they hadn’t experimented with—although the femaledominant that she’d wanted to try hadn’t lasted long before he’d flipped her on her back.
She had to bite back a laugh. McCabe wouldn’t appreciate knowing that his need to be in charge during sex was a demonic trait, pure and simple. Some of the males of lesser branches might be able to handle the female on top, but not Kiverians. Apparently, not even half-human Kiverians.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, giving her bottom a squeeze.
“How’d you know I was amused?”
“I can feel the smile, now give.”
Mika considered what to say. She wanted to be truthful, but if she told him, it might destroy the mood. Partial honesty, however, could work. “I was thinking about your stamina.”
His chest shook slightly, and she propped herself up on her arms. Yep, he was laughing. Mika smiled at his lightheartedness, and swooped down to bite his chin. “Now it’s my turn to ask what you find so funny.”
“I can’t believe you’re still thinking about sex.” He shook his head, obviously in awe.
Considering the vishtau, she had no trouble believing their attraction, but she wasn’t about to get into that. She could imagine his response to the bond far too easily, and it wouldn’t be pretty. “Me?” She raised both eyebrows. “And I suppose you’re not thinking about it?” Shifting slightly, she rubbed against him and felt him react.
There was a flash in his eyes, something that reminded her of his emotional vulnerability, and Mika leaned forward again to kiss him. She went soft and slow. “I’ll never tire of you, Conor,” she promised. “But it’s not only me. It goes both ways.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, “I guess it does.”
Mika settled back against his chest, content with that. The desire went both ways, as did the insecurity. She was the one who’d fallen in love; McCabe had never used the words, never even hinted at them. While she’d managed not to blurt out I love you in English again, she had repeated what she’d said in the demon language over and over in the throes of ecstasy. She’d finally realized what she was uttering and been appalled. Despite that, she’d been unable to stop herself from speaking the words the next time. It was a damn good thing Conor didn’t understand, because she’d been reciting the ritual to bind herself to her vishtau mate for life.
For life. What the hell was she thinking? At least both of them had to repeat their part of the ritual before it locked into place, and that hadn’t occurred. Still, her actions left her unsettled. If the bond had been finalized, she’d never be able to be with another until McCabe died. And it would be the same for him—something he’d despise, when he found out she’d lied to him.
How would it feel to lose a mate forever?
Mika might very well find out. She dug her fingers more firmly into Conor’s arms. She cared about him like a soulmate, and he very well could die. He’d risked his life for her last night, and she knew him well enough to feel sure he’d do it again. And even if he lived through this mess, at some point he’d find out the truth about her, and that would take him from her as permanently as death.
Deciding she didn’t want to do any more thinking along those lines, at least not right now, she rocked her body. The feel of Conor’s thick flesh against her was reassuring. For now, he was hers.
His hands tightened, forcing her to still, and Mika raised herself up to check things out. Nothing on his face gave any clue as to why he’d stopped her. If anything, his expression was oddly indulgent and he seemed pleased. Giving a mental shrug, she acquiesced. The amount of sun coming in the blinds said it was late afternoon, and she had a question she wanted to ask. “Are you going out today?”
Some of the easiness left him. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”
Okay. The slight defensiveness suggested that she’d tweaked his ego. Given what she knew about Kiverian males, it probably had to do with her telling him last night that he was no match for the Dark Ones. Mika refrained from rolling her eyes, but it was difficult. Still, he was her demon male, and she didn’t want Conor to believe she found him inferior.
Leaning down, she nipped his pec before licking and kissing it. “Because,” she said, propping herself up on her forearms once more, “we’re not done here.” Mika rocked within his embrace. “Are we?”
His ag
reeable expression returned. “Not even close.”
“But you are in danger.” She couldn’t leave it unsaid. “You know that, right?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know you th—” She cut herself off before he got his defenses back up. “I know you can,” she substituted quickly, “but I care about you.”
“Trust me.” His hands stroked her lightly. “There’s nothing to be concerned about. That dark demon didn’t seem interested in me. I’ll be fine.”
The flagrant attempt to pacify her made Mika’s temper flare. “Yeah? And what about the auric assassin who shot at you? Will you be okay from him, too?”
Conor’s eyes narrowed and his face went hard, and Mika realized she’d revealed too much knowledge regarding who’d shot at him. Before a good dodge sprang to mind, McCabe tossed her on her back and pinned her to the bed. He said, “Start talking. I want to know what you know. Now.”
Mika considered her options, and decided to be honest. She’d been drilled her entire life to not share demon lore with any outside of Orcus, but Conor wasn’t exactly an outsider.
“Among the darkest branches, a few are born who can wield the power I saved you from the other night. They’re always assassins, for that talent can kill any demon.”
“Even the Dark Ones?”
She tried to shrug, but because he had her hands pressed to the bed, she couldn’t. “I don’t know.” Before he could push, she explained, “When I said there were few of these demons, I meant it. There are very, very few, and I’m not acquainted with any.”
Something flitted through his eyes, but Mika couldn’t figure out what. “Why did you refer to them as auric assassins?”
“Because that’s what I’ve heard them called.”
Conor nodded slowly, and some of his weight eased from her. “What else do you know about them?”
Mika wracked her brain, trying to come up with something he’d be interested in knowing. “Most can only fire one blast before they exhaust their power, but rumor has it that some can fire twice before they have to recharge.”
