Slither

by Bernadette Gardner

  His rising erection needed no help finding her heat. The slick head bumped her clit then glided easily between her pussy lips and inside her. She tightened reflexively, prepared for the psychological torment that accompanied sexual release for her.

  “Don’t…Rihana. Don’t fight it.” His coarse whisper made the nerves in her belly tingle. She didn’t want to, but her body worked on autopilot. Fear drew her nerves up into coils and she clenched everything. The pressure of her tight pussy around his cock made him grunt and he threw another image at her, this one of her letting go of her anxiety and becoming limp in his arms.

  She wanted to obey. She wanted this to be pure pleasure because she needed it so badly. After a terrible night spent alternating between erotic dreams and bouts of terror, she needed to let go of everything and float. Instead she bucked her hips up, urging him deeper inside, making their connection tighter to the point of pain. “Do it. Fast and hard,” she panted in his ear. To entice him, she followed her breathless command with a swipe of her tongue along the smooth patch of skin just beneath his short sideburn. He shivered and clutched her, working his hands down beneath her ass to hold her to him while he began to thrust.

  His control impressed her. Usually, given such a directive from a woman, a man couldn’t help but obey. His cock would do all the work for his brain, taking ruthlessly the moment it was given permission. Instead he slowed his movements, maddening her with an easy glide in and out. His hands were everywhere, massaging her backside, riding over her hips, worshiping her breasts. She ached for him, for the human connection she’d missed for so long, and for the climax which he refused to rush.

  “Come on, do it.” She bucked. She bit his shoulder and the taste of his skin left her wanting more. He was delicious, salty and firm. She wanted to eat him, to have him filling every orifice. “Do it!”

  He smiled against her throat and nipped, thrust twice hard then drew back, almost leaving her before plunging in again. She moaned. This was torture. It had to be fast. The faster the act, the quicker she could recover from the ravages to her body and her mind, the shame of enjoying it, the rippling waves of pleasure-pain that left her open to possession by dark spirits who resided in the quaking just waiting for their chance to infiltrate her soul. Those very thoughts made her tighten up. It was coming. Her orgasm, kindled from a faint spark by his erotic visions, flamed low in her belly. Arrows of electric current shot upward and she bit her lower lip against the desire to revel in the gathering of her womb.

  He breathed hard against her shoulder, lips tickling her skin, rough golden stubble exciting her nerve endings even further. “You’re going to break. Let it go, Ree…please or I’ll hurt you.”

  “Hurt me.” It was the only way to get through it, the only way to reach the fleeting moment of incoherent bliss on the other side.

  He plunged. She rocked. He stiffened and she tensed and just as in his fantasy, they came at the same time. Like a mountain river, he exploded into her, pumping deliriously. She drew herself up, held on and moaned her way through the fireworks that left every inch of her pulsing and slick with sweat.

  It hurt, but only for an instant. When he’d emptied into her, he pulled out and covered her throbbing clit with his hand. He rubbed the ache, eased the tension, worked his thumb into the swollen folds and found her clit. Kneeling over her, he continued to work her with his hand until the sensation in her pussy peaked again.

  “No, no!” She couldn’t handle two orgasms. She needed to crawl away and hide her face, let her body cool, but he refused to let her. He pinched and pulled, swirled his thumb and fingers through their co-mingled fluids until she found herself reaching for another illicit bout of ecstasy.

  “That’s it…once more.” He eased her over the precipice again and she fell with a jolt into the second wave of sensation, crying out his name.

  She clamped her thighs around his hand. “No, no.”

  “Let it go. I can do this until you can’t fight it anymore, then you’ll see how it’s supposed to feel.”

  “I can’t. I can’t. Please, no more.”

  He bowed his head and a few drops of sweat arced from the ends of his hair to splatter on her belly. “Rihana, you’re close. You can enjoy this.”

  She let out a sharp laugh. “You think I didn’t enjoy that? I’ve been dying for that since…” Dare she admit it? “Since the moment I laid eyes on you. It was…amazing.”

  He trailed his warm hand down her thigh and sat up on his haunches. “It could be perfect. It could be everything you need to overcome your…”

  She held up a hand and struggled her still trembling body to a sitting position. “I’ve done the therapy route. I’ve paid doctors to tell me I needed to have more sex so I could get ‘better’ at controlling my fears. I’ve been with men who thought they could fix me by fucking me. It is what it is, Heath…” She retrieved her robe, pulled it across her to combat the sudden self-consciousness. Here she was sitting naked on her living room floor with a man who was still, technically, the chief suspect in a murder case. She smelled of him, bore his cum on her thighs and tasted him at the back of her throat. And in a day or two, who knew if she would have to watch her colleagues arrest him.

  Talk about shame.

  He reached out and caressed her cheek. The contact made her heart skip a beat, and against her better judgment, she turned her face to his palm and kissed it. “This was good. This was what I needed. Thank you.”

  “I won’t leave you like this.”

  She looked up, startled that he’d responded to words she hadn’t even said. She’d been thinking he should go so she could pull herself together. There were those words again. “If the assassin really wasn’t here…”

  “Whether he was or not, you need a guardian tattoo. If he should track you down again, you won’t be alone.” Heath rose and offered Rihana his hand. She accepted his help and climbed to her feet, holding her robe in front of her with one hand as if she hadn’t just been writhing under him begging him to fuck her hard and fast.

  “You think a tattoo will really help me fight this guy off?”

  “The ones on your back help you fight off evil spirits, don’t they?”

  She pursed her lips. “Superstition. Well, most of it. And using symbols as protection against spirits and feelings is one thing. How is some ink going to protect me from a flesh-and-blood person? This guy is flesh and blood, right? He’s real?”

  “He’s real, which begs the question, how did he get out of your apartment so fast without using a door or window? If you saw him in the room with you, where did he go?”

  She sighed. “Well, that’s the thing. I saw him…in between. I was in a trance. When I came out of it, he wasn’t there. Maybe it was all a dream.”

  “Maybe it was,” he said in a tone that told her he didn’t believe that at all. “But he will show up for real eventually and before he does, you need to be prepared. Get dressed and come with me. I’ll give you a guardian now.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think I can. I don’t think I should.”

  “It’s the only way I know how to protect you.”

  “Then what? You disappear to some other planet?” She didn’t want to think about that possibility. Which would be worse, seeing him go to jail, or never seeing him again at all?

  “No. I won’t leave here until I know the Gemii won’t be able to hurt you. Please.” He held out his hand to her. “Come with me.”

  After a deep, resigned breath, she put her hand in his. “I don’t know why I trust you, but I do.”

  “You trust me because you know me now. Better than you know anyone else in this world.”

  Chapter Seven

  While Rihana dressed, Heath searched her apartment again. Having been in her mind as well as her body, he knew the place almost as well as he knew his own home at this point, so finding anything out of the ordinary would be easy. If it was there to find, which it wasn’t.

  The door and all the win
dows were secure. Nothing looked as though it had been tampered with. He thought of Tanesha and wondered how the assassin had gotten in to her place. Had she let him in, believing he was human? He could have posed as a delivery person or even a police officer. He could have simply broken in like a common thief. The detectives hadn’t given Heath any details beyond the disturbing photograph of the death mark the Gemii had left on the reporter’s body.

  Frustrated, he wandered into her bedroom where he found her slipping a jacket on over a clean blouse. She eyed him expectantly. “You don’t knock?”

  “Aren’t we past that?”

  A sculpted brow rose. “No. No matter what happened…out there,” she said with a truncated gesture at the living room floor. “We still barely know each other. I haven’t yet figured out why I’m even considering letting you draw on me.”

  “Because you know it will help. It may be the only thing that can help you now, especially since you’re guilty of exactly what the Gemii assassin suspected of Tanesha.”

  She turned away, but he caught the hint of pink on her cheeks. What they’d just done was wrong. It had been about uncontrolled lust and it had put her in greater danger. Now there wasn’t time to waste if he wanted to spare her from the same fate as Tanesha.

  “I still don’t understand, if he found her, how come he hasn’t found you yet?”

  Heath shrugged. He waited with his hands on his hips, surveying the bedroom again while Rihana stuffed her gun into her purse. “He may be assuming I’ve had a number of lovers since I’ve been here. He could be observing to find out if there are any other females I might have been with.”

  She flung her purse strap over her shoulder and gave him a disapproving glance. “So he might be planning to track down every woman you’ve had sex with in the last eight years?”

  That thought turned Heath’s stomach. He cursed.

  “Jesus. How many women are we talking about?”

  “Was that a professional inquiry or did I detect a hint of jealousy in your tone?” He smirked and she pushed past him and sauntered out of the bedroom.

  “I work with the police department. The last thing we need is a serial killer taking out half the women in Manhattan.”

  Under other circumstances Heath might have laughed at her insinuation. “Don’t worry. He could never track down all the women I’ve been with.”

  * * * * *

  Rihana still had no idea what had possessed her to accompany Heath. She’d climbed into his car without comment and sat clutching her purse—made extra heavy by the weight of her Glock—in her lap as if it were made of gold. She didn’t have a permit to carry a concealed weapon unless she was officially on duty and in the company of NYPD personnel. If she was caught with the gun, she could technically be arrested and lose her job. For some reason, that concern wasn’t foremost in her mind, though, as Heath drove her across town.

  “I don’t think we should go back to the shop. I have enough equipment at my place to do the work there. It’s less likely we’ll be interrupted.” His comments were delivered in a deceptively casual tone, but the announcement made her skin tingle and the nerves in her belly jump. She stiffened.

  “I don’t think I can do this. I can’t. You have to take me home.”

  “Rihana, you’re not safe at your apartment. You might not be safe anywhere, but at least at my place I’ll be better able to protect you.”

  She glared at him, trying hard to ignore the perfection of his profile against the blur of city streets as they careened through traffic. “What, am I going to be living with you now?”

  “Until I’m done constructing a guardian for you.”

  “Oh no. Stop the car. I don’t like this at all.” She actually fumbled for the door handle. She didn’t have the guts to jump out of a moving car, but he didn’t know that. Or maybe he did, if his claims of being inside her head held any weight.

  “Rihana!” He clamped a hand over her knee and she jolted at the contact. Not an hour ago she’d been sucking his dick and now she was afraid to have him touch her. “I understand why you’re scared but—”

  “I’m not scared. I just don’t want to… I don’t want to do it.”

  “You don’t want to lose control. You don’t want to relive what happened to you when you were a teenager.”

  “Don’t act like you know everything about me.”

  “I practically do. The only thing I don’t know is why you let men like Brogan and DeYoung treat you the way they do. You have so much more insight and intuition than they do. You’re brilliant. You could be a detective, but you’re so entrenched in the idea that you have to serve your gift that you won’t pursue anything else.”

  “None of that is true. That just shows how little you do know about me.”

  He nodded in a maddeningly male way that showcased his perceived superiority. She wanted to smack him.

  “So prove me wrong.”

  “Well now, there’s a challenge I might be inclined to take, except according to you, you won’t be around. You’re leaving town, or the planet or the galaxy as soon as you can, so why should I waste any time trying to impress you when you won’t be here to see it?”

  His lips flattened and his hands tightened on the wheel. “You’re right. You shouldn’t do anything just to teach me a lesson. Do it for yourself.”

  “The only thing I’m going to do for myself is get out of this car at the next light.”

  “If you do, you’ll end up like Tanesha.”

  “And if I don’t, what happens to me? How do I handle this guardian beast you want to give me?”

  “You’ll adapt very quickly and you may even enjoy it.”

  “Oh right. That’s what they all say.”

  He smirked again. God, if he wasn’t so handsome she’d rearrange his face for him.

  “Don’t take my word for it. Why don’t you talk to someone just like you who has her own guardian beast?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, one of your many lovers?”

  “Not at all. Before we go to my place, I’ll take you to meet Makena Brady. She’s my partner’s mate. She has a guardian. She can tell you what it’s like.”

  Rihana crossed her arms over her chest. It seemed like the perfect way to postpone this tattooing session he had planned. “Fine. I’d love to meet her. Let’s go right now.”

  If Heath was privy to her ulterior motive, he didn’t let on. He merely adjusted his route through the city, and less than a quarter hour later they pulled into the parking garage of a high rise in SoHo.

  She sensed his concern as they navigated the dim concrete cavern of the garage. His gaze never left the shadows as they made their way toward an elevator and his hand never left the small of her back. The possessive gesture irritated her more so because it turned her on. The feel of his fingers pressing her flesh through the layers of her jacket and blouse brought back memories of their feverish coupling on her living room carpet. Heat rose in her cheeks and she fingered her collar as if that might help relieve her psychological discomfort.

  She distracted herself by thinking about the dead reporter. She still had nothing concrete to offer Brogan and DeYoung about the case other than a vague physical description of Tanesha’s killer. The man’s features hadn’t been any more distinct in her own vision, so she might need to visit Andy Sullivan and pick up a piece of the victim’s clothing. That thought offered her no comfort. It was one of the least pleasant aspects of her job, but at least it took her mind off the uncontrolled erotic images that swirled through her mind every time she looked at Heath.

  They rode the elevator to the fourth floor in the company of an elderly woman who carried a small dog in her oversized purse. She leveled a slightly apprehensive smile at them and Rihana watched Heath’s natural charm soften the woman’s expression the moment he looked at her.

  They left her on the elevator and followed the corridor to the last apartment on the left. Heath knocked, and a moment later a man answered the do
or. He was just slightly taller than Heath and just as physically striking. Jet black hair fell to his jawline, which was defined by a shadow of blue-black stubble. His eyes were dark amber and rimmed by thick lashes. He wore a soft white dress shirt, dark jeans and brown loafers and stood with his hands in his pockets, shoulders at ease. His stance was casual but his hawk-like gaze attested to the gravity of the situation. He offered Rihana a tight smile and gestured the two of them into the apartment.

  The place was done in rich earth tones and sleek modern furniture. Light cherry paneling gave it a cozy warmth, brightened by white throw rugs on the polished floor. Someone had an eye for decorating that put Rihana’s reliance on hand-me-downs and flea market bargains to shame.

  “You must be Rihana,” he said as Heath closed the door behind them. “Heath told me about you and your special talents.”

  She nodded. “And you must be…”

  “Darq Stone, my partner and my crèche brother.” Heath didn’t really need to make the introductions. Rihana already felt like she knew the dark-haired man. Her foray into Heath’s mind had supplied, if not a host of personal details, at least a vague familiarity. She got the feeling that even though their visit had seemed impromptu, Darq was not at all surprised by their arrival. Something told her the two men could communicate on a nonverbal level. In fact they seemed to be having a conversation now while she stood between them soaking in the ambience of the gorgeous apartment.

  “Makena?” Darq called after exchanging a meaningful look with Heath.

  Rihana raised a brow. A second later a woman emerged from another room. The statuesque blonde wore a flowing peasant skirt and an embroidered turquoise blouse. Her feet were bare. Clearly the couple had been relaxing, though they both wore expressions of concern. The woman moved to stand next to Darq and he slipped an arm around her waist. Though the gesture was common, it struck Rihana as being deeply intimate. The bond between these two people was palpable and it made her heart ache just a little bit.