by Sabrina York
“Did I hurt you?”
“You always hurt me.”
She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “Keeshan. That’s not nice. Come on now. I am trying to help you relax.”
“I’m not very relaxed.”
“Focus.” She bent back to her work, molding, kneading his flesh all along his broad back. Over his tight arms and down his flank. He began to fidget. “Are you all right?”
“Can I…” He lifted up, readjusted something beneath him and then settled back down. “Ah. Better.”
As Aimalee realized just what he had been adjusting, excitement flickered. The mood shifted. A little demon inside her stirred.
All of a sudden, relaxing him was the last thing on her mind.
Slowly, deliberately, she wiggled around a little, grinding her crotch on his ass until he groaned and muttered and hissed imprecations. She bent forward, allowing the lace of her bodice to scrape against his sensitized skin. Then she slowly sat up again, gently scoring her nails along his back as she rose.
He shuddered. His entire body quaked.
“Aimalee…” His voice was a deep, rumbling rasp, raking the shadows. He tried to rise.
She pressed him back down. “Not yet, Keeshan. I’m not done.” She made a halfhearted attempt on his shoulder. “Hmm. No. That’s not right.” She lifted up her skirt and scooted forward from his ass and onto his back, rubbing her damp core along his flesh. She knew the second he realized what she was doing. His entire body went rigid. But she didn’t give him a chance to think about it, didn’t give him an opportunity to resist. She suckled that tender spot at his nape. “Umm. That’s better. Isn’t it?”
He growled in response and tried to rise once more.
“No, Keeshan. Let me. Just this once. Let me.”
Her words must have had some effect on him because he subsided and lay there, quiescent and trembling as she feasted on his flesh. On his nape, his neck, the lobes of his ears. And then lower across his back, to the vertebrae along his spine and then, finally, to the hint of a crack where his breeches began.
She was no longer on him at this point, merely crouched by his side, working him with her fingers and her lips and her tongue—occasionally with her teeth when she felt a nip was in order. So when he decided to turn over, she had no leverage, no way to stop him.
No will to stop him, for that matter.
He turned and…oh. Oh.
His cock rose like a restless dragon, creating a delicious ridge in his breeches. She had a sudden urge to taste that too.
Trembling, she traced his length. It was a light touch, a trifle teasing. He hissed and thrust his hips, seeking more. She gave him more. Two fingers, one on either side of his throbbing cock. He closed his eyes and collapsed back. “Yes. Aimalee. Yes.”
This, she took as encouragement.
She tugged at the band of his breeches until his cock sprang free and…
She gasped. It was so beautiful. So full and hard. So velvety smooth. She touched him again but all delicacy, all restraint had fled. His body tightened and quivered like a bowstring.
He muttered, growled something. Something feral.
She bent her head, allowing her hair to trail over his upper thighs. A tendril or two fell between his legs to tease the two tight orbs at the base of his cock. He flinched.
But she wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot.
She took him in her mouth. Just a bit. Just the tip. Her lips stretched around his girth and she shuddered as his essence, his scent, his taste, swamped her senses. She worshiped his cock, laving at the tiny drop easing from the eye. He tasted wonderful.
Ignoring his moans and groans, his frantic little thrusts, she took him deeper, savoring the hard hotness under her command. Savoring the perfume of his arousal as his body heated and released beads of desperate sweat.
She sucked at him and he bobbled in her mouth. With one hand she teased his length as the other drifted up his chest in search of a pebble-hard nipple.
She worked him. Worked him until he whimpered, “Please, Aimalee. Please.”
“No.” She glanced up and smiled. “This time we please Keeshan. Just relax and let me finish.”
“But…”
Whatever he planned to say went unsaid. Because she had gone back to work, determined to draw from him the release he always gave her.
She took him back between her lips and massaged him with her mouth. When she took the errant trails of her hair and dusted them over his balls, he gasped and writhed, so she did it again and again until he was panting.
And then her finger slipped lower, deeper.
He stilled. Even his breath ceased at the direction of her exploration. And ah, she found it. That sensitive spot between his balls and his ass. Something she’d read about in a biology tome and certainly never tried.
He roared, thrusting his hips up, sinking his cock deep down her throat then jerking out and thrusting again and again.
Hot jets of cum exploded in her mouth. Aimalee gobbled it up, licking and sucking and slurping, desperate to get every tiny drop. He was salty. He was sweet. He had a flavor unlike anything she had ever tasted and she couldn’t get enough.
It came and came but she didn’t mind. She nursed him and milked him until there was nothing left but tiny aftershocks of his bliss. He was boneless in his release, near oblivion, but he reached for her and pulled her up, tucked her into his embrace. And together they closed their eyes and rested.
Chapter Fourteen
He hadn’t slept.
Surely he hadn’t slept.
He never slept.
But when Keeshan opened his eyes, returned from that blissful oblivion Aimalee had forced on him—and yes, he shuddered a little at the memory as yet another thrilling aftershock rode him—she was gone.
He knew better than to panic. There were only a few places she could be. But when he came to himself, he was oddly disoriented. As though he had awoken from a dream and was tormented by the tantalizing trails of heaven.
But it couldn’t have been a dream. He never slept.
Slowly he rose, redonned his tunic and went in search of her.
He found her in the library, surrounded by stacks of books and piles of ancient scrolls. He should have known.
She glanced up when he entered but he could tell she was distracted. She flicked a page and ran her finger lovingly down the text. “This is fascinating.” Without looking up, gestured to the cluttered bookcases behind her. “Where did you get all this?”
“Alexandria, the Library of Congress…Wikipedia.”
She grinned. “Library of Congress. I didn’t realize you had a card.”
He propped himself against the bookcase. “I have access to any book ever written. Anything.” And plenty of time to read.
“Oh my.” She gaped at him. “That sounds like a dream come true.”
He stepped closer. “Have you always loved books?”
“Always. When I was a kid, they were my best friends.” She cocked her head to the side. “Come to think of it, they were my best friends when I became an adult too.” She grinned. A tiny dimple blossomed on her cheek.
He sat on the bench beside her, reveling in her warmth. Her presence. There was something about a woman wrapped in her passion that stoked a passion of another kind.
Odd. The angle of his desire was different than the magic-engendered lust of the lamp—not as sharp or cloying. The subtle undertone had always been there with Aimalee, hovering, but overshadowed by the louder, more insistent cacophony the lamp created. This felt very much like real attraction. It was milder, deeper and had a pleasant aftertaste.
He rather liked it.
He bent to kiss her. Lightly. Testing. Her lips beneath his were plush and pliant. Her mouth, a lush fruit. It brought to mind the aching memory of her sucking the sanity from him and then swallowing him whole.
It was difficult to disengage but he did. There would be time for more later. He tucked an errant strand
behind her shell-like ear. “What was your childhood like?”
She stared at him, probably discomfited by his abrupt change of tack. When he began kissing her, he usually continued. At least up until now.
“Um. Wonderful?”
“Is that a question?”
She laughed. “No. No. It was wonderful. Just not typical. I lived with my father. We traveled the world.”
He took her hand in his and idly traced the veins on her wrist. “That does sound wonderful. What did he do?’
“He was an archeologist. We lived in tents at dig sites, in hotels, on boats off the coasts of tiny ancient villages. It was fun.”
“He was an archeologist. Like you?”
“Yes. Only better, I think.” She tipped her head to the side as though she was thinking deeply and needed more thoughts to fall to the left. “The apple and the tree and all that.”
His brow wrinkled. “The apple and the tree? I’ve heard that before in the mirror. What does it mean?”
“It’s a saying. It just means that children are often much like their parents.”
“Ah. So why do you think he was better than you?”
She laughed. “I don’t know. I guess you always see your father as bigger than life. He never did anything wrong. Always got it right and everyone respected him.”
Keeshan tightened his grip. “And people don’t respect you?”
She shrugged.
“If it counts for anything, you are one of the most talented, intelligent women I’ve ever met.”
Their gazes met. Hers singed through him. “It counts.”
“And Carter is an ass.”
“I wasn’t thinking about Carter.”
“He is still an ass.” Keeshan grinned.
“Well, he gave me my first real job so I guess I owe him that.”
Keeshan snorted. “From what I saw, he owes you for that. If it hadn’t been for your meticulous work, the museum would have gone under two years ago.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I asked the mirror.”
“You asked the mirror? The mirror can show you probabilities?”
“Sure.” He winked. “You just have to know how to ask. You have certainly noticed how careless Carter is in his work.” She nibbled her lip and nodded. “He doesn’t give a fig about the particulars. In this scenario—the scenario where he did not hire you—he fudged on some details and got caught. He was fired, drummed out of the archaeological community and had to leave the country. He’s backpacking around Europe, bedding aging Italian widows for dinners.”
Her nose wrinkled as she considered this bit of fluff. “Surely you aren’t serious?”
“It is merely one probability. But I enjoyed it.”
“Do you often ask the mirror to make up stories to entertain you?”
He shrugged. “I have a lot of time to fill.”
She glanced around. “With all these books to read? Look at this.” She pulled out one scroll. “The resting place of the Arc of the Covenant.” And another. “A rubbing of the complete Rosetta Stone. Complete!”
He tipped his head to survey the rubbing and nodded. “It’s not what they thought, is it?”
“And over here, the original books of the Bible. All of them.”
“Again. Not what they thought.”
“The Precambrian Spheres, Dropa Stones, Nazca Lines…” She flipped through a pile of files. “Lost civilizations, ancient ruins, sacred writings, unexplained artifacts… It’s all here.
He shrugged. “What can I say? I have eclectic taste.”
“It’s an archeologist’s wet dream.”
“Really? Would you say you find it…arousing?” He waggled a brow.
“Keeshan!” Her tone held a thread of warning but there was humor there too.
“Because I find it arousing.” He lifted her to his lap. “I find…” He kissed her neck. “A woman…” Nibbled her ear. “Who finds my library fascinating…” Thumbed a nipple. “Arousing.”
Oh. And the way she rubbed against him when he repeated all three, he found that arousing as well.
To say he made wild, passionate love to her in the library would be an understatement.
They did not emerge for several hours.
* * * * *
“There you are.”
Keeshan paused, his arm lifted halfway through the curl, and glanced up. Aimalee stood in the doorway, limned in sunlight, her golden hair a halo about her shoulders. She stole his breath.
He’d left her sated, sleeping, and sneaked to his playroom to work off a mounting tension.
Damn. Could he really want her again?
He could.
She sauntered inside, letting the door close at her back, shutting the sunlight out and sealing them in an intimate, sweat-laced chamber. His attention sharpened. Unbidden, his biceps flexed and a thrill shot through him when she tracked the movement and her pupils dilated.
He lifted the weight again and again.
She swallowed heavily. “What-what are you doing?”
“Working out.” Dropping the weight on the floor, he crossed to the bench, straddled it and sat.
He found it gratifying that, when he dragged his towel across his chest, she licked her lips. Not that she was aware of it. He was convinced it was a completely involuntary reaction. She stared at him, dazed, oblivious to anything but his body, tracking his every move like a hungry lioness.
Then again, he was tracking hers. It was as though there was nothing in the world but the two of them…and this bench.
He hooked his feet on the bar at the end and released a lever, dropping the back end of the bench to the floor. He locked his fingers behind his head and began pulling crunches. Her eyes never left the rippling panoply of his abdomen.
After several minutes of grueling transverse sit-ups, he paused and reached for his towel once more, making it a point to tense and flex his abs as he wiped the sweat from his chest. He adjusted his position, thrusting up his hips.
She stepped closer. “Um. How long do you do this?”
He grinned at her. “Until I’m exhausted.”
“And, um, how long does that take?”
“A long time.”
She put out a lip.
“I can, however, be distracted.”
Ah. She perked up at that. She played with her hair as she contemplated this revelation. Damn, she was adorable. He wanted to bolt over there and scoop her into his arms and take her, right then and there. But he didn’t. He was actually enjoying this byplay.
“What…” She cleared her throat. “What would distract you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. If someone were to come sit on this bench with me, that could distract me. Possibly. I am very dedicated, you know.”
“I can see that.” She nibbled on her lower lip.
He felt a wash of desire to do the same. She stepped closer, examining the bench, then trailed two fingers along the bar at the top. Jealousy of the bench, irrational and unwarranted, flickered. He wanted her fingers trailing over his bar. And he wanted them now. He shifted in his seat, beset with a sudden discomfort.
“So if someone, say, did this…” She lifted her skirts and straddled the bench, legs parted. Keeshan nearly swallowed his tongue. The lace dress, the one she’d worn all this time, was fairly see-through. And now he got an eyeful. Of her barely covered dusky triangle. At eye level.
Mouth level.
It was his turn to swallow a puddle of drool.
“Would this distract you?”
“No.”
She pouted. “No?”
“Come closer.” His voice cracked on the command.
“Like this?” She nudged forward, just a damn fraction of an inch. Then she tipped her head to the side and smiled like a coquette.
He frowned. “More.” He didn’t mean it to come out as a growl but she seemed to appreciate the depth of his ardor. A shiver ran through her. Obediently, she edged closer. Closer. And
closer still.
When she was close enough, he yanked her flush against him. Ah! She felt magnificent in his arms. She always did.
And the squirming? He rather liked that too.
“Ew!” She squealed. “You’re covered in sweat.” She tried to push him away but he held her close with a dark chuckle. He wasn’t ready to let her go. Not yet.
“Then lick it off.” He fumbled with the clasp of her dress. When the fastening wouldn’t cooperate, he gave it a little jerk. Then a big jerk. A ripping sound echoed through the room and the dress gave way. He tugged her against him, delighting in the crush of her supple breasts against his skin. Her pebbled nipples scraped at his sanity.
“Keeshan. That was my only dress.”
“I’ll get you another.” He took her pouting lips with his, suckled, nibbled, savored until she succumbed with a sigh. He buried his nose into the delicious curve of her neck.
And as he worked on her, kissing and laving and sucking at the tender flesh there, she edged closer and closer still, until she was nearly upon him. She draped her legs over his and pressed her cleft against his crotch. The heat of her core spread out, around him.
His cock wept with delight.
Damn, he loved the feel of her. Loved her naked enthusiasm for his body.
He cupped her naked breasts. A delightful weight. He squeezed them gently, reverently. “You are so beautiful.”
“No. You are,” she chuckled, mimicking him, suckling his throbbing nipple. He jumped when her sharp teeth closed down on it and then he groaned as ribbons of sheer delight, shards of passion lashed him.
He did not remember enjoying the other women quite this much but he must have. He must have.
He teased his way down to her bare thigh. The dress was pooled in her lap. He foraged beneath the frothy material to find her core. She hissed as he came closer. When he found her, when he touched her steaming clit, she threw back her head and groaned. A strained melody.
“Do you like that?” he hissed.
“Yes. Ah! Yes.”
He didn’t need her response. He could tell she liked it. The cream oozed from her at his touch. Unable to wait any longer, he rocked her back just a tad and slid a finger into her weeping body.
She was so ready. She was so wet.
