Wicked Whispers (21 page)

She felt his smile beneath her fingers.

“Oh, it definitely will.” He glided his hand beneath her top and rested his palm against her stomach.

The warm pressure wasn’t a light touch. It was firm, a claiming, but not in a bad way. “Arrogant male.”

She absorbed his soft laughter, stored it away behind the door in her mind labeled Memories of Murmur. Ivy hoped she never ran out of storage space.

“Not arrogant, just honest.” His hair trailed across her body as he lowered his head and covered her mouth in a long, drugging kiss.

Sensory overload exploded. His lips left her conflicted. Which to concentrate on—their firm pressure or the soft fullness of his lower lip? Which was it, firm or soft? She didn’t know, so she shifted to the taste of him. Again that damn can’t-decide thing. Was it hot male or dangerous delight? And his scent. It was all her dark fantasies rolled into one. Indescribable. All she needed to know, though, was that it was
his
scent and it would always take her back to this moment no matter where she wandered in the future.

He abandoned her lips to kiss a lingering path down the side of her neck before transferring his attention to the sensitive skin behind her ear. “It won’t be long before I run out of uncovered spots to kiss. That would be an unfortunate thing.”

“Unfortunate. Yes.” Her breathing was doing weird things, making complete sentences difficult. “I have a problem too.”

“Tell me.”

His breath fanned her bare stomach where he’d already worked her top up to just beneath her breasts. Her shudder was all delicious anticipation.

“I have to peel the whole banana before I eat it. I mean, I know lots of people who peel as they go along. That’s just not me.” She raised herself a little so he could pull the top over her head. “I don’t know how people get any kind of pleasure from a partial peel.” Ivy lay back down as soon as he removed her bra. The cool air touching her nipples made them pebble. She yearned for… She knew what she yearned for, but first things first.

Her babbling about bananas died as she met his amused gaze. She swallowed hard as he yanked off his shirt.

He grinned. “I get it. We’re both just half-peeled bananas. But not for long.”

Ivy returned his smile as her tension faded. She reached for him.

Somewhere between the time she ran her fingers across the smooth, hard planes of his chest and the moment he moved in to trace her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, they both lost their half-peeled status.

Ivy forgot exactly how she shed all her clothes as Murmur deepened the kiss. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

She accepted the invitation of his half-parted lips as she allowed her tongue complete freedom. No deep analysis went into his taste because the feel of his bare body pressed against the length of hers took her breath away. She closed her eyes and fought her need to crawl inside of him, to wrap herself around his pounding heart and become one with its beat.

Thump, thump, thumpthumpthump.
She opened her eyes. Wait. Not
his
heartbeat. Not
hers
. What the… ? A
drum
?

He broke their kiss and rose above her, his eyes glowing red. She should be terrified. She wasn’t. Because within those eyes she saw heat, desire, and need. For
her
.

And then his music broke over her, engulfed her, and the drumbeat went on.
Thump, thump, thumpthumpthump
. A melodic heartbeat growing, expanding, while the rest of the music throbbed with a sensuous rhythm that took form and color around her.

Fingertips of fire touched her nipples—teasing, warm lips licking at them until she arched her back at the pleasure-pain.

She couldn’t see, couldn’t think as the drumbeat soaked into her head, her body. Instruments she’d never heard before played an ascending scale of frenzied need, the notes flashing pinpoints of crimson along the length of her body. Touching, touching, always touching.

The sensations overwhelmed her. Ivy tried to focus, to see
him
beyond what his music was doing to her. She reached up, searching.

But a single voice broke from the sexual symphony. Not human. Deep, steeped in erotic purple, it spiraled around her reaching hands, wrapped her wrists in searing bands of sunset colors, and pulled her arms above her head. She was helpless, open to whatever the music chose to do with her body.

But where was
he
?

Ivy writhed, the heaviness low in her stomach demanding, screaming its need. She spread her legs, begging, wanting.

The music answered her, violins crying that they too needed, wanted. Notes—bright and fierce, muted and gentle—played counterpoint to the wash of melody drowning her body in a sea of sexual hunger. Starving. For his body and for… Not sure. Couldn’t concentrate.

Those notes became warm lips covering her nipples, a teasing tongue flicking the hard nubs, teeth nibbling, driving her
crazy
.

Her heartbeat was now the deep booming of the kettledrum as the notes skipped down a descending scale, his tongue sliding across her stomach, his lips—no, no, not
his
lips, not
his
tongue—trailing a path up her inner thigh… And then… She closed her eyes, but the music lived on, building, clawing its way to a crescendo she knew would scatter her across the universe.

A single thread of melody—clear, haunting—
touched
her. It slid across the part of her that was already engorged, ready, and she screamed and fought and begged. Then it pushed into her and withdrew. In and out, in and out, it mimicked the rhythm of sex while the drumbeat became a drumroll.

Colors merged into black, and the black became his eyes. Black? Hadn’t they been red or green… ? She couldn’t remember, couldn’t think, couldn’t care. All she wanted was—

“Now.
Now
.” She had no other words, no breath to say them, even if she had more.

She stared up into those black eyes that were his, or not his, or maybe his, and felt her whole body clench around her silent cry. “I want you inside me
now
!”

The bed dipped beneath her, and she sensed that he was now straddling her. She felt him slip his hands beneath her bottom and lift her. The music was a solid wall of sound, and the sound was color.

The head of his cock pressed between her legs, pushing into her slowly, slowly.

“Faster, damn it.” She was wet and clenching and almost insane with her wanting, her need to be filled. By
him
. But where was he? She couldn’t maintain the thought, or anything at all except the sensations battering her, flinging her high and then dropping her only to toss her higher again and again and again.

He pushed harder, deeper, filling her in a way she knew she’d never be filled again. No empty spaces left. Anywhere. Inside or out.

He paused, and she could hear his breathing—harsh, rasping. Yes, that was the
real
him.

Then he began to move. He slowly withdrew until only the head of his cock remained in her. Pause. Plunge. Her whimpering cries punctuated the stretching, the thrusting.

The rhythm quickened. She grew greedy. She didn’t wait for him to plunge into her now. She rose to meet each thrust, grunting with her effort, breathless, feeling it coming closer and closer. Reaching for it, reaching, reaching…

The world exploded. Her
body
exploded. All the colors flashed to blinding white. And the music… The music was Steven Tyler’s primal scream in “Dream On.” Dream on, dream on, dream…

She shuddered and cried out, a guttural scream of fulfillment. Spasms of unbearable pleasure shook her, and she knew bits of colored Ivy would be raining down for days.

And if his cry matched hers, she didn’t know, didn’t care. For this moment it was all about her, because he hadn’t been there. She was alone with his music.

Ivy closed her eyes, savoring the weakening spasms, allowing her breathing to return to normal, her heart to beat to its own rhythm.

When she finally opened her eyes, he still knelt above her. His eyes were once again green. He watched her carefully. She allowed her gaze to wander the length of his body—sleek, muscular, sweat-sheened. Beautiful.

She felt a drop of her own sweat trickle between her breasts. “I’ve never known anything even close to what just happened.” And she meant it. The dictionary definition of “orgasm” should read simply: “Murmur.”

His gaze narrowed. He slipped off her and lay on his back beside her. “But… ?” He reached up to sweep strands of his hair from his face.

“Where were
you
? At the beginning I saw you, felt you, but then you were… gone.” She rolled onto her side and walked her fingertips across his incredible chest. “I just experienced the most amazing event of my life, and
you
weren’t there.”

“I
am
my music. I thought you understood that.” He didn’t sound angry or disappointed or anything. His expression gave nothing away.

“No.” Ivy didn’t know how she could be so sure of this. “Your music is an extension of you, but I want the flesh and blood Murmur.” God, she didn’t want to hurt him. She tried for a lighter tone. “Not that I’d live through the real deal.”

He didn’t smile. “Perhaps you wouldn’t.”

He was kidding, right? She looked down. “I’m sorry. I’m ruining the moment.” Where had this gone wrong?

Murmur drew in a deep breath and lay still, as though he was thinking. “My emotions ran too strong. The music was a buffer.” He turned his head to capture her with his gaze. “It was safer that way.”

“For who?”

He turned his head away without answering.

That went well. Way to mess up the most spectacular orgasm of her life. Ivy leaned over the side of the bed to retrieve her clothes. After slipping on her bra and top, she swung her feet to the floor and pulled on the rest of her clothes. Then she stood.

She didn’t know what to say.
I never got to touch you.
It was reality TV at its best. She’d seen it, heard it, thought that she was sharing it, but when she’d touched the screen no one had been there. “I guess I’ll see you at the meeting.”

Ivy waited for him to say
something
. Had it meant anything to him? Should she even expect it of him? He was a demon, and he’d made it plain that his emotions didn’t run on the same track as human emotions. That was the real problem. She kept forgetting the demon part. He’d become just Murmur to her; not a demon, merely a man. And she didn’t know how to change that.

She walked to the door and pulled it open.

“Ivy.”

She paused, but didn’t turn to look at him.

“Sometimes we have to be happy with what we have and not wish for more.”

She nodded before stepping into the hall and closing the door behind her. What if what she had wasn’t enough?

Forcing aside thoughts that would lead nowhere right now, she headed for the stairs. She was supposed to be spying on Ganymede for Sparkle. So far she was doing a rotten job. Before catching up with Ganymede, though, she had to find out what Kellen was doing. She dug for her cell phone.

“Hey, Sis.”

Kellen sounded cheerful, but something about his happy voice seemed false. Or maybe Ivy was growing more paranoid the longer she stayed in the castle. She tried to relax and accept what her brother said as truth. “So what’re you doing?”

“I’m in my room. Doing research. Asima gave me a bunch of info about things.”

Ivy just bet Asima had. “Great. I’ll pick you up for dinner later, and then we can talk.” Now who was sounding falsely cheerful?

“Sure. Oh, and I talked to Mom. She said it’s okay for me to stay for a while as long as you don’t mind. Dad didn’t want me here, but he couldn’t give any good reasons why I shouldn’t stay, so Mom overruled him.”

She controlled her sigh. Of course Dad couldn’t reveal the real reason why he didn’t want his son here. Could he? Maybe he should brave Mom’s disbelief and tell her the truth.
Right, and I don’t see you rushing to call Mom with all the gory details of life in the Castle of Dark Dreams
. But she’d have to lay out the facts for Mom when things settled down. Ivy would invite her mother for a visit, and then introduce her to the impossible.

Ivy wasn’t sure where Kellen would be safer—here, where there were powerful beings to help protect him, or back home. What if she sent him home and one of the fae spotted him there? She couldn’t follow him around for the rest of his life.

“We’ll see about getting you into school tomorrow.” That was one ordinary act she could perform amid all the extraordinary stuff going on.

And as much as she hated the thought, she hoped the faery Murmur had promised to send could teach Kellen ways to protect himself. Maybe she could learn something as well. Not that Ivy really believed she had any powers.

Ivy was still thinking about Murmur and Kellen when she walked into Sweet Indulgence. Sparkle was sitting on her stool behind the counter looking morose and working her way through an open box of chocolates in front of her. Braeden was nowhere in sight. Ivy breathed a sigh of relief.

“Where’s Braeden?” She peered into the display case. Maybe she’d buy a bag of candy to share with her brother.

Sparkle made a face. “He said he wanted a challenge, but he really didn’t. He’s out hunting easier prey.”

“Really?” Ivy studied Sparkle. Did she look as though she was having withdrawal symptoms?

“No. I said I needed time to cleanse my system of the Mede virus. He’s amusing himself until I’m Mede-free.” She bit into a chocolate. “Caramel. All gooey and sweet. Just like my Mede.”

Sparkle closed her eyes and slowly slid her tongue across her lower lip—sexy, provocative. And she wasn’t even trying. Ivy was impressed.

“If you say so.”

Sparkle opened her eyes. She smiled at Ivy. “I could teach you how to do that.”

“What?”

“Make men lust after you with just a few simple actions.”

Ivy didn’t think her shrug looked very convincing. “I don’t care about men lusting after me.” She was such a liar. She wanted Murmur to lust after her. And she was already thinking about ways she could use the chocolate and lip-licking thing.