Dead Drop (13 page)

No. No. No. Bad idea. Worst idea in the history of ideas about demons and humans. But Wallace was sitting there all wide-eyed and looking at him like she’d only just realized there was something between them physically, and they had a link going and that was hot in and of itself. He knew, because of their link, that she’d thought about them before, but this time, she was feeling it.

So was he, and she knew that about him. They sat there at the edge of the world where they could wait forever to decide, except the tension was there and building, and she was possibly not going to say no. He touched her upper arm and thought about human women who rocked a yellow bikini.

Time stretched out and then she sat forward, looped her arm around his neck, and kissed him. Keeping things uncomplicated and his urge to get horizontal went to war. That battle lasted about two seconds, with a strong assist from the fact that she was a great kisser.

Considering she didn’t much like him, and how he hadn’t done anything to make her change her opinion about him being an asshole, she was into him. Them. Into feeling good, and hey, if he was making her feel as good as he was feeling, that wasn’t a bad thing, was it? There was also his procreative instincts getting fired up. Not that he would or could do that. But that added to the general fucked-up-ness of how bad he wanted her.

Was he going to do this?

Hell, yes.

She melted against him in a physical surrender that was more about her desire than about her wanting him, and that was hot. That she was after pleasure and looking to him to provide it.

He felt he was up to the challenge.

They had this wild thing going with their low-level link, with the inversion of her magic working him extra hard. What was even hotter was that she was thinking about how much she used to dislike him and maybe still did. But she was feeling good. Fantastic. Immersed in the physical, aroused, and owning it.

He ran a hand from the base of her spine to her shoulder and back down and then underneath her shirt. He had this vague thought that they’d be better off in his bed. Or hers, but her skin was soft, so soft, and he did not want to kill the moment.

Her hands were busy, too, pushing up his shirt, palms running over his belly and upward, and she made a low sound of appreciation that went along with a psychic twist of lust that lanced through them both, and she was all about seeing more of him. He was happy to satisfy any curiosity in that regard. He let go of her long enough to whip off his shirt, and wasn’t that a good idea?

Her eyes got big, and she looked him up and down and smiled like she loved what she saw, and, yeah, she did.

“Whatever you want, angel.”

She grabbed his hand and headed for the hallway, pulling him along.

He tugged back, and she turned, her question already fading. She was getting the hang of linking up with one of the demonkind damn fast. “My bed’s bigger.”

Which she got before he said it. He swept her into his arms, and she held on while he walked the opposite way to his bedroom, and he was hard and ready to go, right now. She pressed kisses to the side of his neck, and then a longer one, with enough pressure for him to think about biting and the taste of her blood. If she was into skirting the rules, so was he.

Outside the door to his room, he put her down, her back to the wall, while he kissed her long and hard, tongues and mouths, and he wished he’d thought of this sooner because, link or no link, she had him hot and bothered. He twined his fingers with hers, and then he planted their hands on the wall above her shoulders. Her fingers tightened around his as she tipped her chin toward him.

The first thing he did was slide his mouth along her inner arm, midway between her elbow and wrist. A taste, and they’d be fucking flying. He rested his pelvis against her; there was no disguising his physical state. He put his mouth by her ear but kept a finger smoothing the skin along her inner arm by that swatch of color he knew he hit from the buzz underneath his finger.

“Yeah, Wallace?”

The lust in her gaze cleared some. She understood his question, the images he sent along with his recollection of how good her blood tasted; the sweet tang and the way the taste entwined with his magic. “Why?”

“Because it will make me hot, and I can blow your mind I’ll fuck you so good.”

She arched her back so her body pressed against his. “Promise?”

He leaned in close enough for a kiss but without kissing her. “If you’re not one hundred percent satisfied, angel, I will do it until you are.”

“That’s dedication.” Her low laugh turned him on. So did the amusement that rippled through her, and right after that the wave of arousal. This was going be so, so good.

He moved his mouth to her arm and licked once. He drew enough magic so his teeth were sharp enough for the job, and his body trembled with the urge to leave this form. He turned his head toward hers. ”Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

With his head sideways to her arm, he gave her a long, slow grin that put the daze back in her eyes. Then he kissed that tender skin there. Once. A second time. He breathed in and wrapped the fingers of his other hand lightly around her throat, palm down. He changed just enough that the side of his canine pressed against her skin. Just the pressure for now. He dragged his other hand down her torso. When he reached the top fastening of her jeans, he pulled at the button. He slid his fingers down her belly as he bit her. Hard enough to break skin. Hard enough that she flinched and then there was that sweet, rich scent, and the taste of her.

He licked away the blood, and more of her magic shivered through him, and if he’d not learned how to sense it, he wouldn’t have known it was there. He’d been with witches before, enough to know what human-born magic felt like, and this was different; richer, a golden, sun-kissed sky. Instead of a pool to touch, her magic flowed over him, around him, through him.

He kissed her again, skirting the edges of thoughts he shouldn’t be having. Deep, crude, slow kisses that were perfect in every way he could think of. Her magic stirred, and that got him more worked up. Her, too. He had his hand down her pants, and he was savoring the taste of her blood, and the fact that he’d changed a little to make that happen, and he was thinking he hadn’t had sex in his non-human form for a very long time. It was risky and against the rules without full consent, so he wouldn’t. He couldn’t, but for the first time in a long while he wanted to.

Okay, so she wanted kids someday, but not today. That came through loud and clear, and he had to respect that, no matter how good it would be for them if he changed. He was fertile in any of his non-human forms, and the nature of the demonkind worked to make conception just about a given.

Eventually, she pulled her mouth from his, and he drank in the shape of her lips–drugged, he felt drugged with pleasure and the promise of pleasure, while she said, “Bed. Please. Please. Please, take me to bed now.”

Lucky them, they were a few steps from his room. He pushed the door open and remembered to hit the lights so she could see. Not much. Not too much. He could see her just fine with the lights low. The only time he used his bed was if someone was over who didn’t know what he was, and he had to fake that he needed to sleep. He didn’t bring many women here. Hardly any. His sheets were pristine since the last time the service was in.

Wallace had him by the hand again, heading for the bed, but he pulled her toward him. Good sex was never wrong when all parties were free and wanted it. That
all
instead of
both
came with a specific history behind it, and she got all wide-eyed again. “Really?”

“I was a blood-twin.” He liked that she didn’t have a problem with that. “Sometimes we looked outside just us.”

“You’re going to think I’m boring.”

“I think you’re the best thing that ever walked in here wearing too many clothes.” He grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled up. She lifted her arms just in time. He was going to drop her shirt where they stood, but then he thought maybe she wouldn’t like that, so he tossed it onto a chair and turned his attention to her and took a long, appreciative glance.

And no, she was not a shy girl about this, and he did like that. He moved into her personal space, and at the same time she unhooked her bra, and his brain dropped out of any conversation because naked breasts.
Her
naked breasts.

“Nice. This is nice. So pretty, Wallace.”

Without thinking, he drew a line from her forehead to the end of her nose, and there was a sizzle of power in the wake of his touch, and, what the hell, why not? Why not lay down some power? In his mind, he wasn’t human when he touched her and let his magic sink into her.

Her breath hitched.

“You like?” He drew another line, this time along the shadows of her collarbone.

“That feels good.”

“Later, I’ll teach you how to do that to me.” He walked her backward to his bed, and when he palmed her breast, he was thinking this was the best decision of his life because her tits were just so pretty and the shape and heft in his palms, and the way she pressed toward him? More. More. More.

He got her on her back, grabbed the open fly of her jeans and between them, they got them the rest of the way off. He groaned, losing himself more with each second. He touched and stroked– breasts that fit in his palms when he slipped a finger over her nipples. She arched, and she took the pleasure higher. That peak of flesh under his fingertip, tight and so sensitive, oh, she liked what he did for her. She told him what worked for her, through their link, or in words, by touch, by reaction, what she liked best.

They explored each other, too. Not just him putting his hands and mouth in interesting, luscious places. Her, too. His pants got pushed down, kicked off, shoved off the bed, and he loved that sound she made, loved it. When she touched him, undeniable appreciation of his human form echoed back to him. Good. So good, that she responded to the body his magic made possible.

She had good hands, and a fantastic mouth, and they weren’t thinking about much but finding out more about what things amped the sensations. She curled her fingers around his cock, drew his foreskin down, and got busy with her mouth. Fuck, oh, fuck. When he had his head on straight again, and she was stroking his belly, he drew a line from her right shoulder diagonally down to the curve of her backside. “Good for you?”

“God, yes.”

“Your skin is so pretty. So soft. I want to lick you everywhere.”

“I think you should.”

He kissed his way to the spot where he’d bitten her and tongued away the blood that had seeped out. She worked her hand between him, cupping his balls, sliding up, and he sank into their pleasure.

This wasn’t what sex was like for him. He was good at it, but he was never, except for those moments of coming, not in full control. Because his life without Avitas wasn’t real. When he fucked a woman that’s all it ever was.

“I want in.” Her skin was smooth and such a beautiful dark, dark, brown and with all the walking she did because she didn’t have a car, there was muscle under her flesh. His thoughts raced on, anticipating his cock in her, that shiver that came with the possibility of procreative sex. With a witch there was always that plus the messed up, breathless, perverted things a demon could do with a woman who had magic.

She adjusted herself. “Yes. Now.”

“I’m not fertile in this form, you know that, right? None of us are.”

Her eyes fluttered open. “Maddy gave us the lecture.”

“Good.” He pulled himself over her, hands on the mattress above her shoulders. “You know no condom necessary, right?”

“I took notes,” she said. “Just in case.”

“You would.”

In his mind he was in his true form, and that was not safe. Not safe at all. She gave him what had to be the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen, and parted her legs, knees bent, and he slid in.

“Fuck. Wallace.” For a moment, he teetered on the edge of orgasm. “I can’t–”

She put her arms around him and moved with him, and there was no point in talking or thinking or anything but letting their reactions fill them up. Them. Moving, sliding in her, and she was soft, and warm, and he could feel her magic, too, and that was as hot as anything he’d felt in his long years of existing since Avitas died.

They ended up with him on his back, and his thoughts blanked when she swung a leg over him. She settled onto him, and his cock went deep in her, and his eyes were filled with nothing but her. The way she smiled– how had he not anticipated that? The shape of her breasts, the play of light and shadow across her body, and he had no idea why he’d ever thought she was anything but the most fuckable woman in the world. The slide to her waist and the curve of her hips. Beautiful skin. Better than anything. He touched her everywhere he could reach, and he was worried he was going to come before he was ready.

She took one of his hands, and showed him how she liked her breasts touched, and he learned, he memorized, because he wasn’t going to give her anything but what she needed. What they both needed. She matched him, mated him, fucked him with abandon. Her body moved with his, her fingers and palms and mouth, sometimes, sliding along him. Mind paired–one.

Then he reared back and nicked the side of his throat with a taloned nail. She met him at the midpoint of his offering of his blood to her. The heat when she licked away his blood opened him to her. He’d been closed off too long. She wasn’t Avitas, she wasn’t, but she lessened the emptiness of his loss, and that alone was miraculous. He wasn’t alone anymore.

She knew. She was there in his head with his desolation. She looped her arms around his neck and whispered, “I bear witness to your loss.” When she released him, she traced his face with her fingertips. Her magic was there. Vast. And he accepted her, and her words, and her promise to remember and honor. “I bear witness, Palla.”

He slowed his movements in her. Bereft, yet for the first time since he’d been destroyed, he found comfort. They hit another peak, and he growled and rolled so she was on her back again, and he was taking them both over the edge, and when they did, he amplified the sensations. His. Hers. Theirs. And she gave all that back to him, his fierce, beautiful, survivor.