Poison Kissed (29 page)

I stared after him, stunned. Two four eleven. Twenty-fourth November. The day he’d found me.

God, I had so much to learn.

33

I didn’t shower or change my clothes, though I badly needed both. I didn’t even go home. I just crawled up that rusty ladder, out of that dusty wreck of a tunnel into an abandoned pile of pinkglass shards, and hauled my dirty, bruised ass to Southbank as fast as my trembling knees would take me.

Two tram rides and a few blocks walk in the roasting sun later, and I walked through the glass lobby, sweat crinkling my hair as it dried in air-conditioned chill. The security guy followed me with his beady black gaze as I passed, his green forehead crinkling beneath polished white horns, but he didn’t say anything or stop me.

The elevator mirrors showed me smeared in dust, my lips bloody, my arms crisscrossed with angry scratches. My bare feet ached on cold steel. My nerves sprung like steel wire, and I quivered, reflexes prickling, clutching the metal handrail tight.

When the lift halted, my throat swelled. I half wished the door had welded shut, so it wouldn’t let me out into his scrutiny’s harsh light, where I might burn.

The door slid aside. I swallowed, and stepped out.

His heavy door clicked softly open when I pressed # to finish the code. Inviting blue-filtered light welled inside, the air dry and warm the way he liked it, his intoxicating minty scent permeating everything. Soft carpet caressed my feet as I stepped past glass bookshelves, sparse slategrey furniture, a white flowering lily. I heard soft air-conditioning, the breath of breeze on covered windows, somewhere the faint cool hum of a fridge. Everything spotless, fresh, tidy. Not a mote of dust on the floor. Perfect.

I found him in the lounge, quiescent and easy on soft cushions, waiting for me. He wore black, but soft, silken, absent his usual sharp edges. He’d showered, and his damp blond hair curled at the ends the way I remembered. I could hear the crisp edges curling. I wanted to twist it over my fingers, sink my lips into it.

I lingered on the steps under the archway, ultraconscious of my own dirty blue hair, my smeared face and ripped pants, the blood and dirt I was smudging all over his carpet. “Umm . . . Hi.”

He stood and glided over to me, cooling my tingling hand between his. “You’re early.”

“Yeah. Look, I shoulda cleaned up, I’m sorry—”

“Stop it.” Effortless, how he silenced me with a word and a stunning smile. “You’re perfect. I . . . please, allow me.” And with a gentle but inescapable tug, he led me along the softlit corridor to the bathroom.

Candlelight shone warm on black marble, the scent of bubbles like lilies. My reflection shone dimly in the glass shower door, a halo of blue like a frosted angel. Cool black tiles soothed my feet. He’d filled the sloping bathtub for me, and the delicious lap of warm water on porcelain licked my ears.

He touched my shoulder, turning me to face him, and slid one slow easy finger down between my breasts, easing my zipper open, click by sensual metallic click.

Already my breasts ached for his touch, the pressure only growing as my tight leather loosened. My nipples twinged in anticipation. But I was sweaty and dirty and smelled nasty, and I flushed and halted his hand with mine. “I can do it.”

“I can do it better.” He slid the zipper to the bottom and slid my top off my shoulders, raking his hot gaze over my naked chest. His fingertips whispered around my throat as he unclipped my choker and drew it away. Then he turned his attention lower, coaxing my torn pants off with gentle hands. I’d lost my underwear back at the last place, and the sweaty leather peeled from my skin to leave me naked.

I fidgeted, flushing, and he wrapped me in lithe strong arms and turned me to face the mirror, his warmth luscious against my back. My pale skin stood out against his black silk, the dark marble, my dirty sapphire hair mixing with his blond. “Look at you,” he whispered, his touch fairylight on my belly, and his gaze flamed with such passion and dark intent that I trembled.

His intake of breath at my shudder spoke volumes. Silently, he took my hand and helped me into the bath.

Hot water softened with soap slid velvety over my skin as I slipped deeper, the warmth caressing my legs, my sex, my belly. I laid my head back on the contoured edge, the water licking up my neck, into my hair. Soap bubbles popped in harmony, sliding soft and warm over my skin. He slipped his shirt off, revealing that eerily flawless skin I loved, and knelt beside the bath, dipping a sea sponge into the water.

I closed my eyes, tension washing away, only to be replaced by a deeper, more pleasurable ache as he slid the soft sponge over my body. He cleansed my feet, my torn ankle, blood slipping cool into the steaming water. He trailed the warm softness over my thighs, lingering, up to my belly, my breasts, my arms, my bruised palms, until my own wetness slid hot between my legs and I ached for his kiss and his skin on mine. He washed my hair, dipping hot water and sliding fresh soap through the tangled mess until it sifted like silk, and I couldn’t help but moan at the tingles sweeping my scalp, shivering all the way to my toes. “Joey—”

“Shh.” His fingertips swept down my flank, eliciting a gasp. He slipped his palm over my thigh, tracing the sharp tendon, my tight muscles. Sleepy pleasure drifted in my blood, and I eased my legs apart, exposing my sensitive inner thigh. He stroked me gently there, teasing in circles, creeping upward until his fingertips brushed my fine wet hair and parted it, slipping inside.

I sighed in lazy delight, my moisture flooding warm into the water. He stroked me, caressing my secret shapes, finding the hidden places that gave me the most pleasure. I opened up and let him explore me, play with me, tease me to slow tension that swelled and heated inside me until I moaned sweet ecstatic melody and arched my back, soap bubbles spilling warm tingles over my stiff nipples.

Surely I couldn’t come like this. Too gentle, too easy. I needed force, pressure, violence. But the rich elegance of his touch was too much. Pleasure grew and flowered, the harmony building inside me ever more intricate and beautiful until I moaned and shuddered and let go, sweet release spilling breathlessly through my belly, my tension dissolving into ripples in the water like a perfectly pitched chord.

When at last I came down, he silently helped me from the bath and dried me in a warm fluffy towel. He caressed me softly, soaking up the last of the bubbles and the water. I leaned against him on wobbly legs and for once let him take care of me, and when he squeezed the last drips from my hair and led me to his bed, I didn’t protest. My time would come later, my demands, my way. For now, I owed him this. I’d accept whatever he wanted to give and ask for no more.

His room lay dim and warm, soft downlights dimmed almost to nothing. He laid me down in warm mint-scented sheets the color of slate, and stretched out beside me, leaning on one elbow, blond locks tumbling over his hand.

I rubbed my shoulders in the silkiness and reached for him, glossing my palms over his hard-muscled chest. I wanted to feel him against me, press my breasts against his chest, wrap my legs around him and hold him close.

But he caught my hand, holding it gently away from him.

Mortification seized me, and I pulled back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

He hushed me, a soft finger on my lips, and reached over to turn the lights down.

Warm darkness enfolded me. No light, only his faint green gleam. His breathing, my heartbeat, his crisp hair falling, the soft slide of skin on silk. And then another sound that twinged my nerves tight: the sweet crackle of shifting flesh.

A faint hiss tickled my ears, a rasp of breath. Thrumming vibration, a quicker, different heartbeat, a slicker, crisper friction of skin. Liquid’s minute green glow, reflecting in the fresh glint of beautiful shiny eyes.

My lips trembled, and I held my breath.

I felt it first on the side of my thigh, the brush of smooth skin, so warm and soft. Delicate, hesitant, afraid I might break.

My nerves glittered. I didn’t pull away.

Up to my hip, a little more insistent, trailing sweet warmth behind. Daring, I reached out in the dark, and my fingertips brushed a tight warm curve.

My skin tingled, and I let my touch roam.

So sleek and lovely, slight roughness when I stroked one way, perfect smoothness the other. The harder ridge of fins, tucked neatly away so he wouldn’t hurt me. I ran my finger along them, savoring the tiny sharpness, seeking out the softness of his flank once more. His muscles rippled alive under my touch. He rubbed lightly against my hand for a moment, and then bumped me gently away.
Don’t. Let me.

He curled lovingly over my hip, his body’s sensual stretch and glide so perfect, I shivered. So slow and luxuriant, savoring my every curve. I slid my hand along his skin and pressed him closer, so warm and beautiful.

Something hot and wet flickered over my belly, a lithe caress that tingled darksweet melody under my skin, and when he did it again, I had to moan, it felt so deliciously right. He took his time, tasting me, searching for my pulse and feeling it against his tongue, first in one place and then another until my whole body sprang alive with hot, sultry sensation.

I shuddered as he slipped up over my ribs, so strong yet light, his long muscles stroking me from hip to breast, and when his curling tongue licked my aching nipple, the sensation burned deep down inside me like molten fire. I arched my back, and my music responded, lilting my breathy singsong desire into the dark. The silken sound of his skin on mine thrust a hot ache between my legs. I wanted to wrap my leg around him, pull him between my thighs and press tight.

He coiled amorously over my breasts and slid down my flank, the rest of his body still climbing over my opposite hip, wrapping me in his hot silkiness. My flesh molded to him, accepted him, begged for more. I bent one knee for him, and he coiled over my hip, under and around my quivering thigh, licking my skin lovingly. Warm shivers spread my desire deep like fever. And then he softly constricted his muscles, all the way up and over my body, and
squeezed
.

Oh, god. I forced my eyes shut on a scarlet wash of brute need. Pulse thudded between my legs, a desperate pleasure-pain, and wetness spilled from me onto the sheet, the breath forced from my lungs for more reasons than one. So safe, so secure. So needed. I wanted to cry. To be wrapped like that in his body, so raw and exposed. All barriers stripped away, no more lies or façades or deliberately hurtful words between us. I’d dreamed of it for so long, it didn’t feel real.

But it was real. Shudderingly, deliciously real.

His tongue teased the crease at the top of my thigh, cramping my belly with delicious anticipation. When he nuzzled his way into my lap, I groaned and dragged my legs apart, releasing my aching clit from its hiding place to beg for attention. I was so swollen there, it hurt, the very air an unbearable stimulation on my exposed bud, and only one thing could cure me. “I need you. Please, touch me.”

He curled possessively around my mound, squeezing me tightly, as if I didn’t already understand that he owned me body and soul. He inched closer, feeling for my throbbing pulse in the warm crevices. When he flickered his long hot tongue along my slit, tasting me, my flesh nearly burst with the sheer force of sensation.

He teased me now, stroking me lightly, soft tantalizing licks stopping short of where I needed it most. He slipped his tongue deeper into my folds, searching, pushing inside me and out again, and I moaned and pressed into him, incoherent. He hissed, the vibration exquisite, and at last he drove his tongue against my clit.

Pleasure stabbed me deep. He licked me hard, fast, just how I needed it. I spread my legs wider, pushing into him, and a few more skillful flicks over that hard little burning point and I exploded.

Even better than before, hard and fast and intoxicating, my body igniting with fierce delight. Rainbow chimes spilled from my lips, my magical voice exulting with a wild trill. I was probably breaking glass in the next room. I didn’t care. He’d given me everything I’d ever wanted. Trust. Affection. Respect. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was in love.

I flopped, catching my breath, my muscles still limp with pleasure. He glided off me, nestling in my warm flank with a serpentine quiver of satisfaction. With a gasp of delight I felt him shift, and then his mouth captured mine, breathless, a desperately human kiss that tasted of mint and my sweat. I wrapped my legs around his hips and drew him onto me, his hair sifting like raw silk in my fingers, his taut muscles so hot and lithe against mine. His cock slid so easily into my wet folds, his lovely shapes so good against me.

He groaned into my mouth. “Mina, you’re so precious. Don’t let me hurt you.”

Baffled laughter spilled from my lips on glittering soprano song. “You can’t, not anymore.”

He gripped my hip to hold me open and thrust in all the way.

Hot, hard, as good as I remembered. God, he was so hard for me, I felt every curve and ripple, his minty heat delicious as he pushed deeper, and this time his control was slipping. He took me strong and deep, in a flood of kisses and hot shared breath, his relentless green eyes ablaze with desire.

I tilted my hips up, moving with him, and my pleasure rose with his, so many months of tension finally resolving. Our bodies shared, worshipped, pleasured. His muscles slicked under my hands, his strange neon sweat tingling like mint-candy. He buried his face in my hair, nuzzled my throat, sank possessive teeth into my ear, and hot dark shivers shook my spine all over again. His thrusts hit that hardening sweet spot deep inside me, over and over, dragging me closer and closer to glorious resolution, and when he arched to suck my nipple deep into his mouth, I shuddered and cried out his name and melted all over him in a wild exultation of crazy, perfect melody.

My pleasured song danced and rippled over us, tingling his hair with wild green sparks, and he bent his mouth to mine and mashed our lips together and let himself come, his body buried as deep in mine as he could make it.

We juddered and gasped together, sweat mingling, his blond hair stuck to my forehead and my fingernails clutched tight in his hips. Our heartbeats matched each other, our limbs molded together, and we lay there kissing again and again until our mouths were raw and our lips numb, but we didn’t care. He pulled me with him onto his side, our bodies still joined, and I wrapped my arms around his neck with my aching thigh around his hips and we kissed some more.