by Radclyffe
Valencia pulled to the curb and Rooke trailed Melinda out onto the sidewalk in front of an enormous stone building. She’d never seen this kind of work before, and she craned her neck to study the façade with its ornate cornices and arches.
“This is amazing,” Rooke said, feeling suddenly energized again.
“Isn’t it,” Melinda murmured, slipping her arm through Rooke’s. “I knew you would like it. Come with me. Marguerite will take care of you.”
By now, Rooke didn’t know what to expect, but not the salon that was more of an apartment, with a luxurious sitting room and private cubicles where Marguerite did whatever it was she did. In Rooke’s case, that meant seating her in a leather swivel chair in front of a gilded antique mirror and slowly walking around her, studying her. Occasionally, she would cup Rooke’s chin and turn her face from side to side or run her fingers through the hair at Rooke’s temples or the back of her neck. Melinda, seated in a high-backed chair with intricately carved arms and legs, watched while sipping dark liquor from a heavy crystal glass.
“Take off your sweater,” Marguerite whispered, her fingertips resting on Rooke’s neck as the room lights dimmed.
Rooke stripped down to her T-shirt and Valencia took her sweater, handing her a glass with the same dark liquor Melinda was drinking in exchange. Rooke automatically sipped it, tasted smoke and wood, and fire kindled in her belly. Melinda’s gaze dropped to her chest at the same time Marguerite draped a black silk sheet over her, and Rooke tensed at the subtle brush of fingers over her nipples. She pushed back in the chair, uncertain. She might have imagined the caress.
Marguerite played her fingers through Rooke’s hair. Her breath trickled over Rooke’s ear. “Beautiful.”
“Yes,” Melinda murmured.
Suddenly, the grating clash of steel on steel sounded in her head and a chill settled over her. Craving warmth, Rooke shivered and swallowed more of her drink. Ice coated her skin, seeped into her chest. Frigid fingers twisted in her depths and she closed her eyes in pain. Her arms ached, her chest hurt, and she didn’t have enough energy to move. A hand cupped her jaw, fingers caressed her cheek, and the sweet scent of crushed roses drifted over her lips.
“So much power,” someone whispered hungrily.
A hand slid over her abdomen, moved lower, and Rooke jolted.
“Valencia, no,” Melinda said, sounding very far away.
Rooke forced her eyes to focus. Valencia loomed over her, her mouth a fraction away from Rooke’s. Her eyes gleamed, golden irises flickering.
“Beautiful,” Valencia whispered.
“Beautiful,” Marguerite crooned, her hands sliding over Rooke’s shoulders and onto her chest.
“That’s enough.” Melinda’s voice whipped through the room like a raging arctic wind.
Rooke gasped, lungs burning. She couldn’t escape, couldn’t find her way. Couldn’t breathe. Cold, drowning, dying.
You’re not going to drown, baby. I promise.
Adrian’s voice. Adrian.
“No!” Rooke lurched to her feet. Dizzy, disoriented, she thought she saw Melinda fling Valencia aside. She couldn’t be sure of anything, wasn’t even sure what had just happened. All she knew was she needed Adrian. She needed Adrian, and she fled.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Rooke, wait,” Melinda called. “Darling, don’t leave. I’ll take care of you. Just wait.”
Frantically, Rooke searched up and down the hallway outside Marguerite’s salon for the stairs. They’d ridden up in the elevator, she wasn’t exactly certain how many flights, and she wasn’t sure she could figure out the right button to push to go down. Besides, she just wanted to keep moving, to get out, to get home. She hesitated in front of a plain door, the only one on the floor with a sign above it. Melinda hurried closer.
“Rooke!”
Rooke pushed open the door, saw the stairs, and hurtled down. When she could go no farther, she exited and found herself in the lobby. Outside the darkened street beckoned and she tasted freedom. The guard at the desk asked if anything was wrong, but she didn’t answer. Within seconds she was on the street, and in another minute, a block away. When she stopped to catch her breath, she was aware of the cold for the first time, but this was a brisk, invigorating cold and nothing like the freezing paralysis she’d experienced just a few minutes ago. Her insides roiled with the lingering heat of the alcohol, and her head ached, but the lethargy was gone.
She took a deep breath, felt the bite of winter air in her lungs, and started to walk. After another few minutes, she stopped to take stock. She had her wallet and her phone. She didn’t have her jacket or sweater and now that the adrenaline rush was wearing off, she was shivering. Walking to the edge of the sidewalk, she watched the traffic. Most of it appeared to be taxicabs. After several minutes of trying, she flagged one down.
*
Adrian’s cell rang and she snatched it off the table. She’d been willing it to ring for the last three hours.
“Hello?”
“Adrian?”
“Rooke,” Adrian said with a sigh of relief. “Hey. Where—”
“I’m right out front. I wasn’t sure which buzzer I should push.”
Adrian closed her eyes, berating herself for not showing Rooke which buzzer was hers. “Just wait in the foyer and when you hear the lock on the inside door buzz, push it open.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Adrian had expected Rooke to call when she was done for the day, so she thought she’d have time to change. She’d worked all afternoon in nothing but ratty old red sweatpants and an NYU T-shirt. She was barefoot, with no underwear, and hadn’t done anything with her hair other than brush it and pull it back in a loose ponytail. She imagined compared to Melinda, who was always impeccably dressed and elegantly turned out, she must look a mess. Before she had time to dwell on her shortcomings, a knock sounded at the door and she jumped up to let Rooke in.
“Hey,” Adrian said happily, swinging the door wide. “I was just—God, Rooke! What happened?”
Rooke was pale and shaking. Adrian pulled her inside and slammed the door. She ran her hands over Rooke’s shoulders and up and down her arms. “Are you all right? Are you hurt? Baby, what happened?”
“I don’t know.” Rooke sagged against the door and closed her eyes. “I don’t know what happened. Melinda took me to get a haircut. And then Valencia and Marguerite…” Rooke opened her eyes. “I don’t know what happened. Maybe nothing.”
“Who’s Marguerite?”
“A friend of Melinda’s. She cut my hair.” Rooke rubbed the back of her neck. “Didn’t she? I…it was all so confusing, like a dream, only I think it was real. I’m not sure now.”
“Just tell me what you remember.” Adrian cradled her face in both hands. “Talk to me.”
Rooke shuddered. “I was cold, really cold, and Valencia gave me a whiskey. I couldn’t get warm, even though it burned. They were…touching me…I think they were touching me.”
“Melinda?” Adrian asked with lethal intention. She would kill her for this. Kill her.
“No, Valencia. And Marguerite.” Rooke closed her eyes tightly. “It was so hard to breathe, so hard to think.”
Adrian sucked in a breath, ruthlessly forcing down her fury. Gentling her hands and her voice, she said, “Come sit down.”
When Rooke made no move to follow, Adrian slipped her arm around Rooke’s waist and led her to the sofa. She pulled her down and held her tightly. “What do you remember happening, baby?”
“Nothing, really.” Rooke shook her head. “I just…I’m not even sure they really touched me, but I felt…here.” She ran her hand down the center of her chest to the top of her jeans. “I felt hands here…and it made me…Jesus, Adrian.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Adrian pulled Rooke close and rubbed her back in soothing circles. She was going to tear them apart one at a time, limb by limb. Rooke was hers. Hers. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“Melinda told them to s
top, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t…make them stop.” Rooke buried her face in the curve of Adrian’s neck, immersing herself in Adrian’s scent. “Everything was cold, murky, like I was drowning. And then I heard your voice, so clearly. So clearly. And I knew if I could just get to you, I would be all right.”
“Oh sweetheart. Baby, I’m so sorry.”
“I needed you, and you came.” Rooke raised her head, found Adrian’s eyes. “Somehow, you came.”
“And I always will, I promise.” Adrian kissed her, needing to show her what she hadn’t dared to say until now. Now she couldn’t think of a single fear greater than her need for Rooke to know she was safe and cherished. “I love you, Rooke. I’m so in love with you. Tell me what you need.”
“Just this.” Rooke took a deep, uneven breath. “Just be with me. Touch me.”
Adrian froze. She wanted her, God she wanted her. But now more than ever she wanted it to be right. For Rooke. “Are you sure, baby? Because I’ll wait forever—”
“No.” Rooke stopped her with a kiss, a deep kiss that started out searching and became urgent as Adrian’s heat called her blood. She pulled back, gasping. “I’ve waited so long.”
“So have I,” Adrian whispered.
“Adrian.” Rooke pushed her down on the sofa with the weight of her body, kissing her mouth, her throat, the edge of her jaw. “I love you. I need you so much.” She worked a hand under Adrian’s T-shirt and cupped her breast. She stroked the pliant flesh, sweeping the erect nipple with her thumb.
“Yes. Oh, yes,” Adrian said before slipping her tongue into Rooke’s mouth again.
Rooke groaned. Adrian tasted of spices. She smelled citrusy-sharp, like crisp mountain air. With every sweep of Adrian’s tongue, every stroke of her hand, Rooke’s spirit shed the dark pall of nightmare dreams and bitter rejections. Strength flowed through her muscles and while her soul rejoiced, her body, her body craved completion.
“More.” Rooke bunched Adrian’s T-shirt in her fist and pushed it up, exposing her breasts. She took one with her mouth and glided her hand back and forth over the soft skin of Adrian’s lower abdomen. With each stroke, she edged her fingertips a little lower beneath Adrian’s sweatpants. Whimpering softly, Adrian undulated slowly in her arms. Want pounded in Rooke’s belly and pulsed between her thighs. Pressure, pleasure, sweet agony ripped at her insides. Pushing against the inside of Adrian’s thigh, she forced Adrian to open her legs and immediately shot her thigh between them. Adrian lifted her pelvis and Rooke pumped into her with short, hard thrusts.
“Oh yeah,” Rooke muttered, abandoning Adrian’s breast for her mouth again. She nipped at Adrian’s lip while each thrust of her hips jacked her a little bit higher, a little closer to where she needed to go. Her vision telescoped down to nothing and she raked the side of Adrian’s neck with her teeth. “Want you. Want you so much.”
“Rooke.” Adrian jammed both hands flat against Rooke’s chest and pushed with all her might, forcing Rooke to raise her head. “Baby, we need to go to bed right now.”
Hissing in frustration, Rooke flexed her thighs and forced herself harder against Adrian. “Not stopping. Need you now.”
“I want to touch you. I want to make you come, and you’re getting close.”
Rooke grabbed Adrian’s hand and pushed it between their bodies, molding it to her crotch. “I need you.”
“Oh baby,” Adrian gasped, “I need you too. I want you so much.” She twisted her arm free and caressed Rooke’s face. “All of you. Naked. Now. In bed. Now.”
“Don’t let go,” Rooke groaned as she raised herself up, pulling Adrian with her.
“I won’t. I won’t. Ever.” Adrian wrapped her arm around Rooke’s waist and dragged her down the hall toward her bedroom.
Halfway there, Rooke jerked Adrian to a stop and pushed her against the wall, boxing her in with her arms and legs. She kissed her hungrily. “Tell me you love me again.”
“I love you. I adore you.”
Rooke plundered Adrian’s mouth while she cupped Adrian’s sex, squeezing in time with the thrusts of her tongue.
“Oh God,” Adrian cried, clutching Rooke’s hips. “I love you. God, Rooke, don’t make me come right here.”
Rooke made an inarticulate sound and buried her face in Adrian’s neck, her chest heaving. “Need a minute. Want you so bad.”
“I know, I know.” Adrian, half out of her mind to have Rooke inside her, ran trembling fingers through Rooke’s hair. “I want the first time I touch you to be special.”
“Every time with you is special,” Rooke whispered. “Every touch.”
Too much. More than she’d ever hoped. Adrian cried.
“Don’t cry.” Rooke lifted Adrian into her arms. “I love you.”
“Then take me to bed. Please.”
Rooke carried Adrian down the hall and into her bedroom, laying her gently down on the bed. She flicked on the bedside lamp and, watching Adrian’s face, pulled off her T-shirt. Smiling at the way Adrian’s eyes devoured her, she skimmed her hand down her abdomen and popped the button on her jeans.
“I’m going to come just watching you,” Adrian groaned, her eyes huge indigo pools of desire.
“Go ahead.” Rooke unzipped her fly. “I’ll just make you come again in a few minutes.”
“I want you first. Right now.” Adrian ripped off her T-shirt and pushed her sweatpants down.
Rooke shoved off her jeans and briefs.
“Come closer,” Adrian demanded, rising to her knees.
Taking a step forward, Rooke braced her legs against the side of the bed. Adrian wrapped her arms around Rooke’s hips and rubbed her cheek against Rooke’s belly. Rooke circled her pelvis against Adrian’s breasts. When Adrian rimmed her belly button with the tip of her tongue, Rooke reached back and released the band that held Adrian’s hair. She twisted the thick blond strands in her hands and held Adrian’s face hard against her rigid abdomen.
“You make me want to come so bad,” Rooke whispered.
“You’re beautiful, baby,” Adrian murmured, her mouth wet and hot against Rooke’s abdomen. She massaged the rock-hard muscles in Rooke’s ass and rubbed her breasts over Rooke’s crotch. Liquid heat painted her nipples and she moaned. Rooke’s skin blazed under her tongue, igniting her hunger. She swung her legs around and sat on the edge of the bed, forcing Rooke to open her legs wide for balance. Holding Rooke steady with one arm around her taut hips, Adrian slipped a finger on either side of her clitoris and exposed her.
Rooke clenched her fists. She needed to come.
“God, you’re so hard. So wet.” Adrian licked her and Rooke shuddered. “Easy. Easy, baby. Let me have you slow.”
Through half-closed lids Rooke watched Adrian kiss and suck and lick her until her abdomen cramped from holding in her orgasm. She felt herself swell, felt her control slip. She was going to erupt any second.
“I need you to make me yours,” Rooke groaned.
“You are mine.” Adrian funneled her lips and sucked.
“Adrian. Adrian, I’m going to come.”
“Mmm,” Adrian hummed. Never, never had it been like this. Rooke’s legs went hard as iron and her clitoris hammered between her lips. The power lashing through Rooke’s wire-tight frame struck at Adrian like barbed lightning and she cried out, her teeth grazing the rigid shaft locked between her lips.
Rooke jerked, let out a hoarse shout, and then she was exploding, shaking, burning up from the inside out. She came in Adrian’s mouth for a long time, until her legs gave out and she dropped to her knees, exhausted and drained.
“I love you,” Rooke gasped.
“I love you.” Adrian dragged Rooke fiercely against her, cradling her head on her breast. “I’ve always loved you. I will always love you.”
“Adrian.” Rooke’s voice was low, slurred, satisfied.
“Hmm?”
“Can you do that again?”
“Oh, baby,” Adrian breathed, guiding Rooke onto the bed. “I
can do it forever.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Biting wind buffeted Adrian as she clung to the edge of a rough stone parapet beneath a midnight sky. Her thin cloak flailed behind her and her hair whipped free from its leather tie, lashing her cheeks. Tears gathered on her lashes and her heart thrashed wildly in her chest. Through stinging eyes, she willed the figure to appear, but she remained alone. When she’d nearly given in to the darkness slowly eclipsing her spirit, she saw the shadows distill into a tall, broad form. Weary and bloodied, the warrior approached, and with her every step, the wind died and the raging storm receded. Adrian felt the fire in the great hearth leap to life.
“You’ve come back,” Adrian whispered. “I was so afraid…”
“I promised I would not fail as long as you believed.”
“You’re hurt.” Adrian touched the blood streaming over the bold contours of her face.
“No,” she said, holding Adrian hard against her chest. “I am healed.”
Adrian gasped. “Rooke?”
“Right here.” Rooke leaned over her and kissed her mouth, then cradled her breast and kissed the place where her heart pounded.
“I was dreaming.”
“Good dreaming?” Rooke rubbed her cheek against Adrian’s breast and fondled the nipple.
“Yes. I dreamed of you. Of how much I love you.” Adrian traced the chiseled muscles in Rooke’s shoulders and back, loving her strength. Rooke’s stone-roughened fingertips chafed her nipple, and she went wet. Grasping Rooke’s hand, she guided it down her middle into the valley between her thighs. Arching against Rooke’s hard body, she curled her fingers over Rooke’s and pressed them to her center. “Inside me. Deep.”
“I love you,” Rooke said, obeying Adrian’s command.
Adrian watched Rooke’s eyes go black, felt her filling her body, her soul. She lifted her hips to take more and slid her hand over the firm ridges of Rooke’s abdomen to cup her sex. Rooke was wet and engorged, ready for her. Adrian gripped her, alternately squeezing and stroking. Rooke moaned and thrust against her palm. An exhilarating surge of power arced between them and Adrian took Rooke’s mouth hungrily, breathing her in. Rooke’s hand, exquisitely demanding, pumped inside her and flames licked at her core. She would come soon.
