by Sylvia Day
It was then that she spotted the strip of condoms on the couch. She glanced down at where they joined with wide eyes. He withdrew then, his cock lined with pulsing veins and shiny from her arousal.
“Condom!” she gasped, as he pushed slowly back inside, raising the temperature of her body enough to make her perspire.
“I’ll pull out,” he grunted, retreating, then plunging deep again. Harder this time, but not faster. “…so damn good…”
“Oh god!” Her pussy spasmed in helpless delight. His cock was beautiful to look at, even better to ride. It filled her so full that she could feel all the nuances of it. The furl on the underside of the wide flared head stroked over a highly sensitive spot and her toes pointed. She didn’t want to dull any of it, but—“I-I’m not on the pill.”
He didn’t miss a beat. What would have been a cold shower for most guys did something else to Connor. He tugged her closer to the edge and gave her two rapid strokes. “I can’t get you pregnant and I’m clean.”
She whimpered as he picked up the pace, his abdominals clenching and releasing in steady measured rhythm. He leaned over her again, pushing her back, rising above her. She stared up at him, melting beneath the heat of his gaze, enamored with the sight of his gorgeous body straining over and inside hers.
“You’re the only one,” he said roughly. “It’s never been real with anyone else.”
Stacey’s back bowed upward as his driving lunges pushed her closer to orgasm. Releasing his grip on her hair, he set both hands on the table by her shoulders and shafted her cunt in fierce, relentless drives. “You’re the only one,” he repeated, his gaze unwavering, open.
With her legs around his hips, she came with a cry, writhing beneath him, her toes curling with the intensity of her pleasure. He drew it out expertly, rubbing the head of his cock over and over that sensitive spot inside her, murmuring praise.
Only when she begged weakly, “…no more…” did he yank free and stand over her, gripping his cock and pumping it with his fist until he groaned and cursed and erupted across her heaving breasts in hot, milky spurts.
It was base and raw. Then he gathered her in his arms and sank with her upon the sofa, and it became beautiful and sweet.
Because his body quivered as hers did and his heart beat with the same desperate rhythm as hers.
With his brogue thick with emotion, he whispered her name. Stacey held on tight and fell head over heels.
Chapter 10
“They have the trinity.”
Michael frowned and sank onto the stone bench beneath the tree in the Elite Academy courtyard. “That is unfortunate.”
Elder Rachel paced as was her wont when agitated. Even in the dream state, the woman was too high strung, yet she remained focused on whatever task was at hand. It was a potent combination—the physical restlessness blended with mental steadfastness.
“It was the damn red hair,” she said crossly. “The minions grow unruly and uncooperative within days. Even with the mental chip, they become impossible to control.”
“Discard them when they lose their usefulness.”
“I know what to do, Elder Sheron. However, one of them dug into their own skull and pulled the chip out. We must assume that the others are capable of such self-infliction.”
He knew that, of course. He knew everything stored in her wily brain because he was inside it and because they had colluded for centuries. But he let her talk it out. She hated having him in her mind, so she preferred to act as if he wasn’t.
“Leave the completely feral ones to Captains Cross and Bruce,” he murmured. “It will keep them busy and you have more important matters to attend to. We need the trinity. You should not have entrusted its retrieval to a minion.”
“I had no choice. I had to return to the Twilight for your audience with the Elders. Now that I have ‘volunteered’ to travel to the mortal plane, we have much greater freedom of movement. I no longer have to pretend to be here when I am actually there.”
She spun about, causing her long dark tresses to whip over her shoulder. Michael admired her even as he despised her.
“I cannot trust half the men I took with me,” she complained, “because their loyalty is not with you and me, but with the Elder Collective. The minions are wild, but the chip keeps them loyal…at least until the Nightmares completely destroy their minds.”
Michael brushed a stray leaf off the cuff of his wide sleeve and looked around them, studying Rachel’s dream version of the Elite Academy. It had not aged in her mind, retaining the appearance it once possessed when she was a student there. The center courtyard where they met was circular, lined with gravel, and shaded by immense trees. Surrounding the hub were various open-air amphitheatres where combat training took place and in the large building to the south, classrooms were in session.
“It is time to move to the next stage,” he said finally.
Rachel stilled, her green eyes widened. “I began to doubt that you would ever proceed.”
She had suggested it weeks ago, but he held off. It seemed a waste to use such a tool without devastating effect. Now, the time was right.
“Never doubt me,” Sheron said, pushing to his feet. His gaze stayed locked with hers as he pulled up his cowl.
“It will be done as we agreed.”
“Excellent.” He bowed and moved to the edge of the slipstream. “Until you dream again.”
Connor stared down at the dozing woman in his arms and knew he was in deep shit.
His chest was tight and hot, making it difficult to breathe. Every inhale smelled of sweat and sex, every exhale was a moment closer to when he would have to leave.
Stacey was beautiful in near slumber. The tight lines of stress and strain around her mouth and eyes were eased in relaxation, leaving behind a face of youthful loveliness. Creamy smooth skin, dark arched brows, cherry red lips.
He could wake up every day like this. With this woman. In this house. He’d trained enough young men for the Elite that he had confidence in his ability to help Justin, too. Connor knew the type and was familiar with the effects brought on by the lack of a father figure. He had seen it with Aidan. It wouldn’t be easy, but for this—he cupped Stacey’s cheek with his hand, caressing the curve of her cheekbone with his thumb—for her, it would be worth it.
Adjusting her, he pulled her closer and took her mouth, pressing his lips to her softly parted ones. Her moan made his arms tighten around her. He wanted to keep her, discover her, share himself with her. Perhaps what felt good now would feel as good a month from now. A year from now. Years from now.
Promise. There were signs of promise between them, and the thought that it might never come to fruition was difficult for him to bear. It was one thing to be alone when you knew you were happier that way. It was another to be alone when you had someone you wanted to be with.
Licking the seam of Stacey’s lips, Connor made love to her lush, soft mouth. Infatuated with the taste of her, he thrust his tongue deep, plunging long and slow, the way he wanted to make love to the rest of her. If only he could get past the feeling of urgency, the sense that at any moment she would be ripped from him and he would lose this chance to enjoy her.
Her hand lifted and slipped into the hair at his nape. The simple touch moved him profoundly for its sheer artlessness. It wasn’t a touch designed to arouse. It was a touch intended only to hold him close, to keep him near so she could decimate him with her returning ardor. Stacey gave as good as she got, her tongue stroking along his, her mouth twisting and sucking beneath his, her lips clinging to his.
He pushed to his feet, lifting her with him, never breaking the kiss even as he moved down the hallway to her bedroom.
“Are we going to do it again?” she whispered dreamily into his mouth.
“Hell yeah.”
Connor hefted her around to where her legs straddled his hips. It was enough to make him hard as rock, having her curvaceous naked body tucked up tightly against his. She was wet
with his cum, a crude claiming that appealed to the primitive beast inside him. No other man could have her. He’d marked her, made her his.
With her arms around his neck, she leaned back and looked down at his cock rising up eagerly between them. “You left the condoms in the living room.”
He growled low, wishing he could tell her the truth. From sharing Aidan’s dreams, Connor knew that Aidan and Lyssa were certain their species were reproductively incompatible, despite their external similarities. But Connor knew that telling Stacey he was a being from another plane of existence would kill the moment, if not any possibility of a future between them.
“I’ll get them,” he assured her.
A slow smile curved her mouth and she hugged him, nearly making him stumble as her affection hit him like a physical blow. He carried her into the bathroom and set her down.
“Get in,” he said, turning back to return to the living room, “but don’t wash. I want to do it.”
“Yes, sir,” she teased.
She was bending over the tub turning the faucets when he tossed a mock glare over his shoulder. The view was inspiring. He jogged the distance to the condoms, shut the front door and locked it, then jogged the distance back to Stacey.
He heard the shower running as he entered the bedroom and images of water coursing the length of Stacey’s luxurious body set his blood on fire. Tapping the automatic release of one boot with the toe of the other, Connor took in the décor. Pale lavender walls, royal purple velvet coverlet, and black sheers covering white plantation shutters made the space rather exotic in comparison to the country look of the living room.
To him it revealed so much about her, the dichotomy between her public spaces and her private one. He wondered if this setting would inspire a different side of Stacey and eager to find out, he shoved his jeans to the floor and strode into the bathroom.
Pausing on the threshold, Connor studiously examined his surroundings. As he had done with every other room in the house, he sought clues to the woman who lived there. The bathroom walls were painted a deep purple—like the comforter in the next room—and the ceiling was decorated with painted silver stars. A hint of whimsy.
“I’m naked and you’re looking at the ceiling?” she asked with warm amusement.
He turned his attention to the view of Stacey through the sliding glass shower door. Standing in a cloud of mist, she was his fantasy in the flesh. She slid the door open in invitation.
“I think it might be too small in here for you,” she said, blinking water-laden lashes at him as he approached.
“I like tight places,” he reminded, climbing into the shower tub with her.
The space was cramped, but he didn’t care. It just meant that they were pressed up against each other, which was just the way he wanted it.
Her hands came up and touched his abdomen. His muscles tightened instinctively, responding to her attention. Her tender fingertips traced over every groove and plane of taut muscle, and he bore her fascination with gritted teeth and aching heart.
“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, in what sounded like awe.
He cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “Tell me how to make this work.”
She gazed up at him with liquid, glistening eyes. The green was clear and vivid. Gorgeous. “Connor…”
The resignation in her tone drove him crazy. “There has to be a way.”
“How?” she asked simply. “How long will you be gone? When will you be back? How long will you stay when you are back?”
“I don’t know, damn it.” He pushed her head back and devoured her mouth, bruising it, taking it. Thrusting his tongue fast and deep. As steam rose around them in an ever-thickening fog, she whimpered and clung to his waist. “If you want something bad enough—”
“It hurts,” she cut off. “That’s all. Doesn’t mean you get it or can have it.”
“Bullshit,” he spat, furious with himself, with the Elders, with the lies and deceit that made his leaving unavoidable.
“I told you. I tried to make you listen.”
He nuzzled his cheek hard against hers. “Walking away isn’t the answer.”
She laughed softly. “You’re too stubborn.”
“Maybe. But I know I can’t stand the thought of not having you.”
“You’re doing wonders for my ego.”
“Stop it.” He shook her a little. “Don’t make light of this.”
Stacey sighed and released him. He responded by catching her up and holding all her wet delicious curves against his hardness.
“Connor. Neither of us needs this angst. It’s not healthy.”
“What angst?” he scoffed. “Teenage girls have angst. I don’t.”
“You will.” She met his gaze head on. “You haven’t seen the hell Aidan and Lyssa go through. The struggles to share a phone call between flights. Staying up way past their bedtimes just to hear the other’s voice for a moment or two. The pain of separation when he has to travel somewhere and be gone for weeks.”
“If they can do it, we can do it.”
“No.” Shaking her head, she said, “They knew each other before; you and I are strangers. Lyssa is by herself; I come with a child and an ex who may or may not become a more active part of my life. Aidan works for a local collector; you work for…” she shrugged, “whoever it is you work for.”
Connor’s jaw tightened and he rolled his hips into her.
“Very impressive argument,” she teased gently. “But the occasional bout of great sex isn’t going to keep two people together who are living apart.”
Stumped, he tried to come up with counterpoints and failed. He could only stare down at her, scowling. “We can at least try.”
“I’m tired of being alone, Connor.”
The thought of coming back and seeing her with someone else made him want to howl. “You wouldn’t be alone. I’d be yours, even if I wasn’t here.”
“A man as highly sexed as you can’t be expected to rein it in for me.”
“Fuck you,” he said tightly, insulted. He set her away from him and reached for the liquid soap. They had to get out of the shower. He could win her over in bed. Torment her there. Drive her mad for him until she would agree to whatever was required for him to slide into her and fill the emptiness. He could ruin her for other men.
“Sorry.” She set her hands over his when he cupped her breasts. “I meant that more as a comment on my shortcomings, not yours.”
“Shortcomings?” He snorted. “I like to fuck. In fact it’s one of my favorite activities, followed by honing my glaive, which I usually begin doing while the sheets are still warm.”
A finely arched black brow rose.
“Oh yeah, sweetheart,” he drawled, squeezing her firm, full tits. “There’s even a joke about my first loves being my swords—the one in my hand and the one between my legs. There’s no post-coital cuddling. Women want me for sex, nothing more. And that’s always worked just fine for me.”
He watched the emotions that swept across her expressive features. “Ah,” he murmured, smiling, “you’re thinking about last night, right? I held you on the couch. I slept with you in my arms. I cuddled with you a few minutes ago and I can’t stop touching you now.”
Catching her hand, Connor pulled it down and thrust his erection into it. “That’s sexual interest.” He pulled her hand back up and set it over his heart. “This tightening in my chest that you can’t see? That’s something I’ve never felt before. You’ve got something no one else has. You don’t have a shortcoming, sweetheart. You have an advantage.”
Stacey’s lips quivered alarmingly and his stomach knotted further.
“With you, I didn’t even think about whetting my sword,” he rushed forward.
She covered her mouth.
“Well, not the metal sword,” he corrected gruffly, knowing he was screwing this all up but unsure of how to fix it. “I mean you’re wet and my other sword…I mean I thought about wetting th
at sword—”
Her lovely face scrunched up and he begged, “Don’t cry!”
He wrapped his arms around her and patted her shaking back awkwardly. “Oh man. I suck at this. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I meant that as a compliment. It’s my problem I’m nuts for you, not yours. I—”
Her lips pressed ardently to his nipple, then she ran her tongue over it in a slow, heated swipe. He stiffened, staring down at her with wide eyes.
She was laughing at him.
“That was beautiful,” she mock sniffled, her hands cupping his ass.
His brows rose. “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah. I’m pretty sure I have never made a man’s chest tight before.” Her smile was pure sunshine. “I like it.”
“How about the other part?”
Stacey laughed. “You know damn well I like the other part.” Her voice lowered provocatively. “If we hurry up and get out of the shower, I will show you how much.”
Connor considered that a moment, somewhat lost in the barrage of emotions he felt. Something like joy. Maybe hope. He hid how twisted up he was by teasing. “You’re not just using me for my body, right?”
“Sure I am.” She cupped his balls in both hands. “But when you’re gone and I’m waiting desperately by the phone, I’ll be thinking about more than your swords.”
Stacey followed Connor out of the bathroom at her insistence. She wanted to ogle his bare behind. Lucky for her, it was a view well worth ogling. The man had legs honed by strenuous activity. Gorgeous legs. Long and leanly muscled. His ass was a perfect complement. Taut and firm. Tight. Flexing with every step. With dimples on either side.
Yum.
And there, between his legs, the occasional glimpse of his heavy balls. Denuded. Delicious. Perhaps if he weren’t erect, she could see the head of his cock, too, but he was rocked and cocked. Ready. For her.
How did she get so lucky? She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all too good to be true. There had to be something wrong with him. Stacey Daniels did not wind up with perfect men. There was always something screwy with them. Something majorly whacked that prevented any possibility of a relationship. Like Tommy, who wanted to be eighteen years old forever. Or Tom Stein, who wanted to live a “green” life in the desert, surviving off solar energy and rain water. Stacey was pretty sure that the gene that created hotness on the outside also created misfiring brain cells on the inside.
