She picked up one long-clawed hand and laced the fingers through hers. Her milky white skin shone in stark relief to his mottled gray. She studied the claws and grinned. “I can see where we’ll have to be a little careful during sex, but we’ll figure it out. I know you’d never do anything to hurt me.”
“Cherie—” He knew there was no way she really wanted him, but it was sweet of her to make him try to feel good.
“Damien, you can be such a fool. Does this feel like pity to you?” She must have been reading his mind because she took their linked hands and rubbed his knuckles through the curls between her thighs.
His knees went weak for a moment. She was wet. Damien groaned and dropped to his knees at her feet. He didn’t know why, but if he didn’t get a taste of that pussy in the next second, he was liable to cry. Cautious of his claws, he gripped her hips in his hands and widened her legs. Then he used his tongue, which was longer and more pointed in this shape. With exquisite slowness he licked his way along her slit, sliding his tongue through the wet, swollen folds of her labia. She tasted like heaven, sweet and salty with the pungent flavor of rich, fertile earth. The hint of his own semen from earlier made Damien’s cock throb even harder.
“Yes.” Her throaty cry was sweeter than a symphony. When her knees wobbled he nudged her back until they hit the side of the bed. She sat with her legs wide, giving Damien plenty of room to kneel between them. He drew back to admire the sight of her auburn curls glistening, her plump pink flesh quivering for his touch. He folded his claws into his palms and used just his knuckles to trace the lines of her. Her wet, receptive sex, the wide feminine flare of her hips, the soft roundness of her belly, the heavy swell of her rose-tipped breasts. She was strong and fit, but not thin and Damien loved that fact. She was built like a fertility goddess and he could fuck her all night and maybe even all day without having to be afraid he’d break her in half. Her wavy auburn hair cascaded down her back to skim the green comforter, completing and framing the picture of feminine beauty.
He licked her again, one long, savoring slurp from asshole to clit. Thick cream coated his tongue, tantalized his senses. He circled her erect pearl, teasing gently, then slid deep between her folds to dip his tongue up inside her pussy. She was still tight, even a little swollen from all their earlier play and her vaginal muscles clenched down, drawing him deeper. He used the roughed tip to rub against her G-spot, drinking in the warm juices that flooded her as he licked.
He was so wrapped up in the beauty of Katie’s pleasure that he forgot he wasn’t supposed to use his hands. He didn’t touch her with the claws, he wasn’t that far gone, but he caught both nipples in the vee between the first two fingers on each of his hands. When he pinched them closed her hips bucked up off the bed and her legs came up over his shoulders.
“In me. Now.” She was whimpering as she writhed beneath the onslaught of his tongue.
He pulled it out of her long enough to whisper, “Come for me first, ma belle.” Then he pushed back inside, his nose rubbing against her clit while his tongue fucked her inner walls.
“No. Ah… Problem.” She squeezed his back with her heels and lifted her shoulders so she could grab his head, holding his face tightly to her pussy. He flicked his tongue against the taut ring of muscle at the entrance to her womb and she came, shuddering in his arms and convulsing against his mouth. Slowly he licked and tickled until she was limp but still shivering with aftershocks.
“Now it’s my turn, big guy.” She tugged on his shoulders until he joined her on the bed. Then she pushed him down on his back and rolled to her knees. After one long, wet, sucking kiss on his lips, she began trailing her tongue and lips down his chest.
“You don’t have to do this.” He knew his cock was different now as well. Bigger and more roughly textured—it couldn’t possibly be appealing.
“Do too,” she growled, flicking her tongue across first one slate-gray nipple then the other. “I want to taste you so badly it hurts.”
How could he fight that? Damien fell back against the mattress and let her have her way with him.
She smoothed her hands down his arms, lifting his hands to her lips. She placed a delicate kiss on each knuckle before deliberately kissing each half-inch curved claw. Then she turned her attention back to his torso and he gathered handfuls of her hair to play with as she traced the contours of his pecs and abs with her mouth, then swirled her tongue inside his navel.
“You still taste like you.” She trailed kisses down his hip and legs, carefully avoiding his cock. “And you still smell of man and sex. Your skin feels like it should and you’re still warm, even hot to the touch.” Playfully she tickled his foot with her tongue. “Altogether, you’re still the yummiest man I’ve ever seen.”
“Tu es une ange, c’est vrai.”
She had no idea what he’d said, but it sounded so sexy in that deep gravelly voice that just the sound of it made her pussy clench and quiver. She couldn’t believe she was getting wet again, but the salty dark taste of his skin was the strongest aphrodisiac she’d ever encountered. She licked her way up his leg, loving the play of his smooth skin over hard muscle. When she got to his hip she made one more detour before moving on to his sex.
He had a tail.
How cool was that? And when she’d touched it before, she could tell it turned him on. So now she feathered her fingers over his thighs to where the long, sinuous tail lay tucked between his legs. She picked it up in both hands and reveled in the groan that escaped from his lips.
Strong muscle formed a long, slender rope, just about exactly the length of his legs. It was as thick as her wrist and ended in a blunted arrowhead tip that hung between his ankles when he stood. Like his wings, the skin was darker than the rest of his body, with a sturdy leathery texture, still smooth and supple but stronger than regular skin. Katie stroked her hands down the length of it, then slurped the point into her mouth.
“Katie!” His cry was hoarse and shrill. Experimenting, she sucked the end of his tail as if it were his cock, licking just beneath the ridge then taking it deep into her throat.
She loved the way she made him lose control but now she wanted his cock. With one last wet kiss, she released his tail and shifted her body ‘til she knelt between his legs, her face level with his hips. The tail wound around her waist, holding her close.
“I love you, Damien.” She hadn’t meant to say it, not again, not so soon. But the words came of their own volition as she bent to taste the dark plum-shaped head that rose up on a long shaft from a mat of coarse black hair. She licked up the milky droplet that had already beaded at the slit, then dipped her tongue inside, searching for more. His taste was bitter but rich with a strong earthy flavor and Katie wanted nothing more than to swallow him whole.
Instead she used her tongue to follow the shape of him, first circling around the underside of the broad, flared head, then down the long length of the thick vein that ridged his shaft. He was longer now and thicker. She wrapped the fingers of both hands around him, but they didn’t come close to meeting in the back. Even her two hands together barely covered half his length. She should be terrified at the thought of having that pole stuffed inside her, but just thinking about it made her clench her thighs and squirm. As soon as she was done going down on him, she was going to climb on top and ride him ‘til she passed out from the pleasure.
She cupped his heavy balls in her hands. They were full and taut, drawn close to his body. She nuzzled at them, rubbing with her cheeks and lips, then opened her mouth and drew them in, one at a time. His cock flexed and jerked into the air as if begging for her attention. So she gave his sac one last lick and nibbled her way up his shaft. When she reached the head, she drew it into her mouth all the way to the back of her throat. One hand wrapped around his shaft and stroked while the other wandered downward. She fingered the sensitive skin between the root of his cock and his anus, then swirled around the puckered hole and popped just a tiny bit inside.
; He bellowed her name and came, his hot semen shooting forcefully into her mouth and down her throat. She took him deep, swallowing hard, stroking him with tongue and hands while he poured himself over and over into her waiting mouth.
When he was finished, she licked him clean then crawled up his chest, sitting astride his hips. “Fuck me, Damien. Please.”
“Goddess, Katie, I don’t want to hurt you.” She felt him twitching, his still-hard cock nudging her hungry pussy.
“You won’t. Not unless you tell me no.” She bent her head and kissed him, letting him taste his own cum on her lips. The fangs didn’t bother her in the least, she flicked at them with her tongue. She could taste herself on him too and the combination almost made her come. She wriggled, trying to position his cock where she needed it.
“Be careful, ma petite.” He used one hand to adjust the angle of his erection, then held himself still while she slowly eased downward, impaling herself on his rigid staff. “Please don’t let me cause you pain.”
“It’s fine.” Better than fine. She sank down ‘til her pelvis rested on his. She was stuffed fuller than she’d ever been. There was some discomfort from the stretching, but it paled in contrast to the overwhelming pleasure.
Once her body had adjusted, she started to move—just a gentle rocking back and forth. The friction was incredible and before long, she was moving faster, relishing every slide of skin along skin. Damien held himself still, letting her set the pace. His beloved face—different but still uniquely his—was racked with the same mix of agony and ecstasy that probably showed on her own.
“Our bodies were made for each other, Damien,” she whispered. Her fingers dug into the solid mass of his upper arms as she rode him. “You could never hurt me.”
“I hope you’re right.” His last word was barely a gasp. They were both too far gone to speak anymore. He groaned and started bucking his hips to meet hers. He palmed the cheeks of her ass and held her tight without using his fingers or claws. They writhed together, reaching for that final peak, higher and scarier than any Katie had climbed before.
And suddenly there it was. She ground her hips down one last time just as she felt the hot rush of Damien’s orgasm. Her consciousness fragmented as every cell in her body seemed to convulse. Her entire universe centered on the hot wash of Damien’s seed and his hard fullness inside her core. Tears rolled down her cheeks and splashed on the skin of his chest as she came. Colored lights burst behind her eyelids, leaving blackness in their wake. Vaguely she felt herself collapse on Damien’s broad chest, gasping for breath. Her eyelids were too heavy to lift, but it didn’t matter. Everything in her world—in the universe—was perfect.
“Katie? Cherie, are you all right?”
Damien’s voice was shaky with concern. She nodded into his shoulder. “Wonderful.”
His arms closed gently around her, shifted her slightly to the side so she was pillowed against his throat. “That you are, mon ange. That you are.”
* * * * *
Damien parked his Harley in front of the inconspicuous-looking building that housed his new office. He’d much rather be back at Katie’s loft tucked into bed with her, but duty called. Hers had called even earlier. Somewhere around noon she’d gone off to her job. Turned out the mayor had two paranormal task forces. One for law enforcement—the supernatural cop squad as Katie called it—and one for policy purposes. Katie was an architect and served as a housing-issues consultant on the policy team.
He took his helmet off and went into the building. After passing a surprisingly tough-looking desk sergeant—a troll, perhaps—he was ushered into a large office area, scruffy but comfortable and clearly designed for people bigger and heavier than average. He was greeted by a guy almost as tall and broad as he was, with long bronze-colored hair and eyes to match.
“Hi. I’m Bram Logan, your partner for the next few weeks. Welcome to Philadelphia.”
Logan seemed a reasonable sort. He was friendly, though there was watchfulness in his expression that boded well for his skill as a cop. Damien shook his hand and let the other man show him around the place.
“This is Frank McAuley. He’s in charge of surveillance for the unit.” Damien held out a hand, then realized his mistake and pulled it back with a grimace.
Frank gave a rueful smile as Damien’s hand passed right through Frank’s. “Sorry about that.”
“My fault,” he told the incorporeal ghost. “Pleased to meet you, Frank.” This time he affected a brief respectful bow.
He went on to meet several other interesting people before Logan showed him to a pair of face-to-face desks and told Damien to settle in. Damien immediately noted a photo on the other man’s desk—a beautiful blonde with delicately pointed ears.
“Your wife?” Logan sported a wedding band, so it was a safe bet.
Logan nodded, stifling a yawn. “Yep. That’s Twyla.”
“Pretty.”
“Th—” This time the yawn erupted. Logan shook his head. “Sorry. Not much sleep in the past few days. Pixie morning sickness is a bitch.”
“Ah. Well, congratulations, then.” It took a second for Damien’s brain to process the connection. “Pixie? Was she by any chance Katie Calhoun’s previous roommate?”
Logan nodded. “Yeah, the mayor said he was going to see if Katie could put you up for the interim. Everything okay there?”
Damien swallowed hard. It was easy to see that his new partner was fond of his wife’s friend. He’d have to tread carefully. He wasn’t sure exactly what sort of being Logan was, but he looked tough enough to be a threat, even to a gargoyle. “Everything’s fine. Ms. Calhoun seems like a very…special woman.”
Chapter Four
And wasn’t that the understatement of the year, he though later, sitting across from Katie at her kitchen table eating lasagna.
“You never did tell me why you were here in Philadelphia,” she remarked. They’d gone at it like minks on her living room floor the moment he’d walked in. Now they were taking a break for much-needed sustenance.
“The job?” He thought he’d try the easy answer but he wasn’t surprised when she shook her head.
“Okay. The gargoyle population has been having some problems. Our seers claim that they can be fixed by the recovery of certain magical artifacts. And according to the most recent vision, one of the artifacts is here in Philadelphia. So I was sent to try to find it.”
“What kind of artifact?” She sipped her red wine and played with the long antique necklace she always wore. With her dressed in nothing but an oversized hockey jersey and him in his boxers, it was hard to keep his mind on anything but sex, even the survival of his own race.
“A belt,” he told her. “Part of the original regalia of our ruler. When the gargoyles were created, we were given four talismans to protect our people. Over the years all four have been lost.” And without them, his people were dying.
“Created?”
He should have known her agile mind would seize on that. He sighed and started at the beginning. “Originally the gargoyles were one of the many tribes known as Goths. When we lost a major battle to another tribe, my people were given a choice—either be completely eradicated, or be transformed.”
“Transformed?”
He nodded. “Into guardians of a sort. By night we would be our natural selves, but by day, we would take on the aspects of demons and be set as stone statues on the cathedrals and castles built by our conquerors. We were granted four powerful objects to sustain the magic—a belt, a crown, a ring and a cup, each representing one of the four elements. In the hands of our chieftain and his mate, they balanced the negative power of our demonic curse.”
“Over the centuries our sentence was lightened as we performed acts of valor and mercy. We still transformed by daylight, but were only required to turn to stone to heal from an injury or illness. Later, even that change was only forced for a small portion of our lifespan as an encouragement to renew the population. Now we make o
ur first transformation at puberty instead of in infancy and after we’ve reproduced the change becomes optional.”
“But somewhere along the way, the four artifacts were scattered and lost. Without them, our people are suffering. Babies are far less common. More and more of our children fail to survive the first change. And even adults in their prime are beginning to succumb to disease.”
“Do all of your people live in Montreal?”
“No. We began in what is now southern France, so our enclaves tend to be in areas settled by the French. The two largest on this continent are in Montreal and New Orleans, but there is a small colony in New York and in a few other cities. As far as I know, I am the only gargoyle currently in Philadelphia, though.”
“When you find this belt, will you return home?”
He stared into those piercing green eyes. “I had thought to. Now—I don’t know.”
“Do you know where to look?”
Stone and Earth Page 3
