With that pronouncement, his hand slid between her legs once more, his fingers raking boldly through damp nether curls, on over a hypervigilant clit, pausing just long enough to acknowledge he knew exactly where it was and circling it as if with a promise to return later. He narrowed his stroke to two fingers, passing over the tender nerves at the entrance to her body and continuing to sweep back and up along the seam of her backside until he touched the tip of her tailbone.
Again, so deliciously naughty, so much hint at the forbidden, and she realized she was eating up every sensation and every moment, eager to see what he was going to do next. What he did was trace right back the way he had come and those two fingers slid true and deep inside of her. She sucked in a breath and he chuckled softly.
“No, you don’t respond well at all,” he said, teasing her with his touch as well as his words.
“Shh!” she shot back at him. “I’m trying to concentrate here.”
“Then I’m doing something wrong,” he said with a laugh, his free hand giving her exposed backside a little spank.
But when she would have protested once again that he was barking up the wrong tree with that, he curled those fingers inside her, massaging her deeply and stealing any ability to speak from her.
“Yeah, you know what, I think I need a more practical application of technique to test this out,” he said, the words muttered, almost distracted. He withdrew from inside her, but before she could even miss him he was back up against her. She could feel the brace of his powerful thighs against the backs of hers, and looking over her shoulder just as he set himself to thrust into her she got the image of fierce virility and commanding male. His hands were suntanned to a light bronze and she saw them gripping the paleness of her hips. She cried out, unable to help the response, the sensation of him filling her like nothing she remembered from her previous and awkward attempts at the position they were in. But how? What was different? It shouldn’t be …
“I can hear those wheels turning from here,” he said with amusement. “Maybe this never worked for you before because you kept on thinking too much.”
“Isn’t it your job to keep me from doing that?” she asked, finding herself panting for breath as a wave of indescribable pleasure washed through her. Then, as if he weren’t at all satisfied with her retort, clever though it might have been, he reached between them and found her clit, beginning to circle it slowly with every equally slow thrust inside of her.
“Oh my g—” She gasped, cutting herself off when he suddenly hilted hard into her, the smack of flesh on flesh filling the dark room, only the spill of light from the outer suite allowing her to see him. According to Max though, he would have perfect vision in the dark. Which made sense, considering they were a night breed or night something-or-other. She wasn’t in her right mind enough to remember what it was called. She moaned long and loud when he picked up his pace, leaving off from touching her in order to grip both of her h*ps in his hands. For the first time she got the hint that he wasn’t as in charge of everything as she had thought. He was starting to draw hard for breath, though not at all from exertion, she knew. She’d seen the man run laps with his dog keeping stride, seen him race around a training field in the hot sun with full body armor and hardly break a sweat. But the moisture between his palms and her skin spoke volumes, the thrill of knowing she excited him that much making her whole body sing.
She started to cl**ax with alarming and unexpected speed. She curled her hands into fists, clutching at the bedding and squeezing her eyes shut tight.
And he smacked her backside once more, startling her.
“Stop thinking,” he commanded her. “And quit resisting. There’s nothing wrong with losing control, Marissa. Nothing at all. Christ … just let go. Because if you don’t relax this tension in your body I’m going to come before I want to. Jesus, Mari, you feel so good it’s killing me.”
And somehow, for some reason, it was all she needed to hear. The empowerment that came with that statement was utterly unreal, and suddenly it no longer mattered whether or not she was in control … of the situation or of herself. She shouted out, realized it was his name on her lips, and he doubled his speed into her, a frenetic, frantic pace that told her he was losing control himself. He reached forward, his hand diving into her hair, twisting it up into his fist, though not enough to hurt. Just enough to make her lose all control, her body exploding in heat and spasms of the utmost in pleasure. She couldn’t seem to keep quiet any longer, her whole existence tightening up and her body seizing him as if it knew he was close and didn’t want things to end. But it was greed, pure and simple, because her pleasure was beyond anything she’d known before. And as he came with a shout that bordered on a roar, as he seemed to freeze in place in order to spill himself inside of her, she realized oh hell yeah, she really liked this position.
“Okay, that’s three. Wanna go for four?” Jackson asked her breathlessly, making them both laugh. She’d finally made it out of her skirt. Not that it even mattered to her anymore. She was wantonly sprawled over his body and well into losing all sense of conservatism … and not regretting it in the least. Not just then anyway. She thought they both knew it was very possible that she would start second-guessing herself in the … well, it wouldn’t be the light of day because she was pretty sure darkness had long since come calling. But then again, maybe she would surprise herself and decide that living in the moment without worrying about consequences or having total control over all of her actions was something she could really get used to.
“Maybe we might make it to good old-fashioned missionary this time,” she speculated. They both waited a beat and looked at each other. “Nah,” they said in unison. She giggled, in spite of her not ever having thought she was the giggling type. But she was discovering things about herself in leaps and bounds. It was amazing what could happen in such a short amount of time.
“Stop thinking. You’re going to end up in a corner you don’t want to be in and it’ll shut you down like Fort Knox under a bomb threat.”
“Okay,” she said. She lay there for all of two seconds. “I have a question. Let’s just say—”
“This is you not thinking?” he teased. “I hate to tell you but you’re doing it wrong.”
She made a face at him, coming just shy of sticking her tongue out. It made her take pause for another two seconds. There was something about him that relaxed her. Well, beside orgasms, she thought to herself. She’d had some nice relationships before meeting him, but … they hadn’t exactly been fun. They were hardly what she’d call a relationship in the traditional sense, but just the same it wasn’t “nice.” It was more cordial. Intelligent. Mature. Sedate. All the things she usually looked for when trying a relationship on for size. She didn’t like drama in her life … she had her ebullient sister providing more than enough of it, thank you very much. But all the push me pull me emotions, the petty jealousies, the insecurities, they were not something she wanted to indulge in.
Since meeting him, she’d had nothing but drama where he was concerned. And the last couple of days had only exacerbated it. But she had thought she would have been very unhappy in a volatile relationship. Hell, she’d counseled enough people who were engaged in them. Some of them unhealthy to the point of danger and poisoning of the spirit. But … by trying to avoid all of the emotional pitfalls, she’d also managed to bleed out the joys, the passions and the pleasure, she realized. The past hours in his bed had proven that to her. She’d spent so much time concerned about what type of life she didn’t want to have that she’d not been living much at all. She’d schooled herself not to take chances, but chances were what life was all about. Taking them or passing up on them, those chances meant something.
“Let me ask you this,” she said. “Let’s make the wild assumption that I agree to do something like this, which, I’m still not inclined even the slightest to do. But let’s say I was. How would she know? I mean, if you’re down here and she’s up there in the Ether or whatever, how would she know that I’m the one you want her to take. I could be dead and stay dead, no Bodywalker, if she gets it wrong. What if she’s already found someone else and is on her way here?”
“She’s not here,” he said, reaching to smooth back the tumble of hair that seemed to be everywhere around them. “I would know. I always know. I can feel it almost instantly. It’s a very powerful connection between us, with aspects that no other couple I know shares.
“Not even Ram and Docia. And they are very, very close to each other. And as to your first question, she will know. She knows everything I am feeling here, just as I know everything she is feeling there. She would feel me directing you toward her. She would feel how special you are to me. She will know instantly that you are my extraordinary gift to her … and she would be the most precious gift I could ever give to you. Oh I know it comes fraught with complexities and even danger, I won’t pretend that it doesn’t. But so does any other life, more or less. Look how this began … with Docia, a normal girl in a normal life, suddenly being pushed off a bridge. That should have been the end. It would have been the end.”
“If not for a Bodywalker. And I understand that. I think it’s … really something special to be given a gift like that. A second chance at life. But … it’s not a natural death if I do this consciously. It’s … just not.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what she meant. He did. She didn’t want a second life because she wasn’t done with the first one yet.
“I think you should know … it won’t be safe for you to leave here for a while … if ever,” he said, sitting up so he could put his back to her and not let her see the disappointment that was clutching at him. Disappointment, but not condemnation. He wanted her so badly his souls ached for it. But he understood why she felt it was a disrespectful thing to do, to simply throw away a life in order to try on a better one. These were not things that could be discarded and put on like clothes. He never thought it would be and he never once thought this would be easy. But now he was tangled up in her and it was getting really complicated really fast. He wished they could just shut it out for a few more—
The sensation that suddenly ran through him was like a scream, an alarming, screeching thing that propelled him to his feet.
“Jacks—?”
“Shh!” He was listening, listening to try and understand what he was hearing.
Gargoyles, his other half whispered to him. The Gargoyles who are attached to us have arrived and there is something very wrong.
Jackson grabbed for the nearest pair of jeans he could find and put them on as he was hurrying to the window. He couldn’t remember how to work the smart glass, glass with particles inside of it that, when excited by an electric current, made it completely opaque, blocking out the daylight while he—
Electricity! He remembered the switch and turned it off. The glass became instantly clear and moonlight, bright and full, poured in. It lit the grounds very well, but even so it was amazing how much he could see, how much detail jumped out at him as though it were the light of day. Then he saw them, huge dark masses with wings, gliding to the ground in a deadly, beautiful grace of movement that should not have been present in creatures so big. And Menes knew these Gargoyles well.
Ahnvil, he thought as Jackson’s eyes rested on the nearer Gargoyle. And as if he knew eyes were on him, Ahnvil turned and looked straight up at the bedroom window. The Gargoyles eyes were red, something that happened only when they were in battle mode or being threatened in some way. Suddenly Jackson found himself wishing he could open the window, except it was a solid sheet of glass in its casement.
“There’s trouble,” Jackson said, turning to look at her. “Promise me you’ll stay right here,” he demanded of her as he went for his gun in his dresser. He whistled sharply, more habit than anything, and he heard Sargent bark from further inside the house. He ran out of the room before she answered him, instinctively knowing there was no time to waste. He didn’t waste time with shirt or shoes. Sargent met him halfway down the hallway, whining excitedly, knowing something was happening as only an animal could know it. Jackson pointed to the bedroom door he’d just come through. “Stay, boy. You watch out for her.”
Sargent actually looked put out by the order. He even whined, the doggy version of “Oh, c’mon!! I wanna go too!”
Marissa raced to the window, her heart in her throat as she watched for Jackson. This, she thought, is the other reason why I never wanted to date from within the police department. She knew she couldn’t watch someone she loved run head first into danger every single day of her life, never knowing if that day was going to be the day his captain would be at her door in his stead because …
Again, so deliciously naughty, so much hint at the forbidden, and she realized she was eating up every sensation and every moment, eager to see what he was going to do next. What he did was trace right back the way he had come and those two fingers slid true and deep inside of her. She sucked in a breath and he chuckled softly.
“No, you don’t respond well at all,” he said, teasing her with his touch as well as his words.
“Shh!” she shot back at him. “I’m trying to concentrate here.”
“Then I’m doing something wrong,” he said with a laugh, his free hand giving her exposed backside a little spank.
But when she would have protested once again that he was barking up the wrong tree with that, he curled those fingers inside her, massaging her deeply and stealing any ability to speak from her.
“Yeah, you know what, I think I need a more practical application of technique to test this out,” he said, the words muttered, almost distracted. He withdrew from inside her, but before she could even miss him he was back up against her. She could feel the brace of his powerful thighs against the backs of hers, and looking over her shoulder just as he set himself to thrust into her she got the image of fierce virility and commanding male. His hands were suntanned to a light bronze and she saw them gripping the paleness of her hips. She cried out, unable to help the response, the sensation of him filling her like nothing she remembered from her previous and awkward attempts at the position they were in. But how? What was different? It shouldn’t be …
“I can hear those wheels turning from here,” he said with amusement. “Maybe this never worked for you before because you kept on thinking too much.”
“Isn’t it your job to keep me from doing that?” she asked, finding herself panting for breath as a wave of indescribable pleasure washed through her. Then, as if he weren’t at all satisfied with her retort, clever though it might have been, he reached between them and found her clit, beginning to circle it slowly with every equally slow thrust inside of her.
“Oh my g—” She gasped, cutting herself off when he suddenly hilted hard into her, the smack of flesh on flesh filling the dark room, only the spill of light from the outer suite allowing her to see him. According to Max though, he would have perfect vision in the dark. Which made sense, considering they were a night breed or night something-or-other. She wasn’t in her right mind enough to remember what it was called. She moaned long and loud when he picked up his pace, leaving off from touching her in order to grip both of her h*ps in his hands. For the first time she got the hint that he wasn’t as in charge of everything as she had thought. He was starting to draw hard for breath, though not at all from exertion, she knew. She’d seen the man run laps with his dog keeping stride, seen him race around a training field in the hot sun with full body armor and hardly break a sweat. But the moisture between his palms and her skin spoke volumes, the thrill of knowing she excited him that much making her whole body sing.
She started to cl**ax with alarming and unexpected speed. She curled her hands into fists, clutching at the bedding and squeezing her eyes shut tight.
And he smacked her backside once more, startling her.
“Stop thinking,” he commanded her. “And quit resisting. There’s nothing wrong with losing control, Marissa. Nothing at all. Christ … just let go. Because if you don’t relax this tension in your body I’m going to come before I want to. Jesus, Mari, you feel so good it’s killing me.”
And somehow, for some reason, it was all she needed to hear. The empowerment that came with that statement was utterly unreal, and suddenly it no longer mattered whether or not she was in control … of the situation or of herself. She shouted out, realized it was his name on her lips, and he doubled his speed into her, a frenetic, frantic pace that told her he was losing control himself. He reached forward, his hand diving into her hair, twisting it up into his fist, though not enough to hurt. Just enough to make her lose all control, her body exploding in heat and spasms of the utmost in pleasure. She couldn’t seem to keep quiet any longer, her whole existence tightening up and her body seizing him as if it knew he was close and didn’t want things to end. But it was greed, pure and simple, because her pleasure was beyond anything she’d known before. And as he came with a shout that bordered on a roar, as he seemed to freeze in place in order to spill himself inside of her, she realized oh hell yeah, she really liked this position.
“Okay, that’s three. Wanna go for four?” Jackson asked her breathlessly, making them both laugh. She’d finally made it out of her skirt. Not that it even mattered to her anymore. She was wantonly sprawled over his body and well into losing all sense of conservatism … and not regretting it in the least. Not just then anyway. She thought they both knew it was very possible that she would start second-guessing herself in the … well, it wouldn’t be the light of day because she was pretty sure darkness had long since come calling. But then again, maybe she would surprise herself and decide that living in the moment without worrying about consequences or having total control over all of her actions was something she could really get used to.
“Maybe we might make it to good old-fashioned missionary this time,” she speculated. They both waited a beat and looked at each other. “Nah,” they said in unison. She giggled, in spite of her not ever having thought she was the giggling type. But she was discovering things about herself in leaps and bounds. It was amazing what could happen in such a short amount of time.
“Stop thinking. You’re going to end up in a corner you don’t want to be in and it’ll shut you down like Fort Knox under a bomb threat.”
“Okay,” she said. She lay there for all of two seconds. “I have a question. Let’s just say—”
“This is you not thinking?” he teased. “I hate to tell you but you’re doing it wrong.”
She made a face at him, coming just shy of sticking her tongue out. It made her take pause for another two seconds. There was something about him that relaxed her. Well, beside orgasms, she thought to herself. She’d had some nice relationships before meeting him, but … they hadn’t exactly been fun. They were hardly what she’d call a relationship in the traditional sense, but just the same it wasn’t “nice.” It was more cordial. Intelligent. Mature. Sedate. All the things she usually looked for when trying a relationship on for size. She didn’t like drama in her life … she had her ebullient sister providing more than enough of it, thank you very much. But all the push me pull me emotions, the petty jealousies, the insecurities, they were not something she wanted to indulge in.
Since meeting him, she’d had nothing but drama where he was concerned. And the last couple of days had only exacerbated it. But she had thought she would have been very unhappy in a volatile relationship. Hell, she’d counseled enough people who were engaged in them. Some of them unhealthy to the point of danger and poisoning of the spirit. But … by trying to avoid all of the emotional pitfalls, she’d also managed to bleed out the joys, the passions and the pleasure, she realized. The past hours in his bed had proven that to her. She’d spent so much time concerned about what type of life she didn’t want to have that she’d not been living much at all. She’d schooled herself not to take chances, but chances were what life was all about. Taking them or passing up on them, those chances meant something.
“Let me ask you this,” she said. “Let’s make the wild assumption that I agree to do something like this, which, I’m still not inclined even the slightest to do. But let’s say I was. How would she know? I mean, if you’re down here and she’s up there in the Ether or whatever, how would she know that I’m the one you want her to take. I could be dead and stay dead, no Bodywalker, if she gets it wrong. What if she’s already found someone else and is on her way here?”
“She’s not here,” he said, reaching to smooth back the tumble of hair that seemed to be everywhere around them. “I would know. I always know. I can feel it almost instantly. It’s a very powerful connection between us, with aspects that no other couple I know shares.
“Not even Ram and Docia. And they are very, very close to each other. And as to your first question, she will know. She knows everything I am feeling here, just as I know everything she is feeling there. She would feel me directing you toward her. She would feel how special you are to me. She will know instantly that you are my extraordinary gift to her … and she would be the most precious gift I could ever give to you. Oh I know it comes fraught with complexities and even danger, I won’t pretend that it doesn’t. But so does any other life, more or less. Look how this began … with Docia, a normal girl in a normal life, suddenly being pushed off a bridge. That should have been the end. It would have been the end.”
“If not for a Bodywalker. And I understand that. I think it’s … really something special to be given a gift like that. A second chance at life. But … it’s not a natural death if I do this consciously. It’s … just not.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what she meant. He did. She didn’t want a second life because she wasn’t done with the first one yet.
“I think you should know … it won’t be safe for you to leave here for a while … if ever,” he said, sitting up so he could put his back to her and not let her see the disappointment that was clutching at him. Disappointment, but not condemnation. He wanted her so badly his souls ached for it. But he understood why she felt it was a disrespectful thing to do, to simply throw away a life in order to try on a better one. These were not things that could be discarded and put on like clothes. He never thought it would be and he never once thought this would be easy. But now he was tangled up in her and it was getting really complicated really fast. He wished they could just shut it out for a few more—
The sensation that suddenly ran through him was like a scream, an alarming, screeching thing that propelled him to his feet.
“Jacks—?”
“Shh!” He was listening, listening to try and understand what he was hearing.
Gargoyles, his other half whispered to him. The Gargoyles who are attached to us have arrived and there is something very wrong.
Jackson grabbed for the nearest pair of jeans he could find and put them on as he was hurrying to the window. He couldn’t remember how to work the smart glass, glass with particles inside of it that, when excited by an electric current, made it completely opaque, blocking out the daylight while he—
Electricity! He remembered the switch and turned it off. The glass became instantly clear and moonlight, bright and full, poured in. It lit the grounds very well, but even so it was amazing how much he could see, how much detail jumped out at him as though it were the light of day. Then he saw them, huge dark masses with wings, gliding to the ground in a deadly, beautiful grace of movement that should not have been present in creatures so big. And Menes knew these Gargoyles well.
Ahnvil, he thought as Jackson’s eyes rested on the nearer Gargoyle. And as if he knew eyes were on him, Ahnvil turned and looked straight up at the bedroom window. The Gargoyles eyes were red, something that happened only when they were in battle mode or being threatened in some way. Suddenly Jackson found himself wishing he could open the window, except it was a solid sheet of glass in its casement.
“There’s trouble,” Jackson said, turning to look at her. “Promise me you’ll stay right here,” he demanded of her as he went for his gun in his dresser. He whistled sharply, more habit than anything, and he heard Sargent bark from further inside the house. He ran out of the room before she answered him, instinctively knowing there was no time to waste. He didn’t waste time with shirt or shoes. Sargent met him halfway down the hallway, whining excitedly, knowing something was happening as only an animal could know it. Jackson pointed to the bedroom door he’d just come through. “Stay, boy. You watch out for her.”
Sargent actually looked put out by the order. He even whined, the doggy version of “Oh, c’mon!! I wanna go too!”
Marissa raced to the window, her heart in her throat as she watched for Jackson. This, she thought, is the other reason why I never wanted to date from within the police department. She knew she couldn’t watch someone she loved run head first into danger every single day of her life, never knowing if that day was going to be the day his captain would be at her door in his stead because …
