Authors: Ann Macela
Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Paranormal, #Romance, #Suspense
Wild Magic (32 page)
“Yes,” she panted. “I’ve never ... never experienced ... anything like this before.”
Although he wasn’t sure of her reference either, he didn’t care. Not with his arms holding her, his center humming, and his body aching.
Still breathing hard, she gave him a victorious smile. “Now do you believe we can exchange power? You can truly help me? We can fight the Stone together?”
Where did she get the lung power to talk? Besides, who gave a crap about power exchange when all he wanted to do was ... what he was supposed to do. Their energy exchange and that kiss had blown away all his doubts. He took a deep breath and forced the words out, “Yes. I believe. Before we do anything else, though, we follow the rest of Whipple’s orders.”
She blinked at him. “What orders?”
He swung her up into his arms. “What our leader commanded. We mate.”
Laughing, he carried her into the bedroom feeling like he’d won an enormous battle, and he was about to get his reward.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
At Jim’s words and especially his actions, Irenee’s heart began to race again—not that it had truly returned to normal after his kiss. He was right. She had his declaration they were mates, and he had hers. While neither had been the most romantic thing in the world, both had been sufficient. She had no more doubts. The time for talk and waiting was past.
Still, she might have some mating surprises for him, thanks to her discussion with the Whipples and her father.
She and Jim had already experienced power between them, but the exchange was probably minuscule compared to actual mating. She couldn’t even imagine what would happen when they actually came together. Her center fluttered in anticipation.
She didn’t have time to think about it, however, because once in the darkened bedroom, he lowered her feet to the floor and kissed her again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
And fell into a maelstrom of longing and wanting and craving.
She couldn’t get enough of him. Couldn’t tangle tongues enough, couldn’t run her hands over him enough, couldn’t rub herself against him enough. She groaned, both in eager expectation and in response to his touch holding her head, then sliding down her back, around to the front over her breasts, and finally to her waist, to pull her even tighter against him.
When their centers aligned and vibrated in harmony, their heartbeats synchronized, and they drew back and looked straight into each other’s eyes.
“You’re mine,” he murmured.
“You’re mine,” she answered.
He took her mouth again, hungrier, more demanding, and she reveled in their frenzy of kisses and touching.
Soon, even kisses were not enough. She needed more.
He began to unbutton her blouse. Yes, that was it. They needed less. They had too many clothes on.
She shrugged off her blouse, and he pulled his shirt over his head. She reached behind to undo her bra while he slid the straps down. When the bra hit the floor, she practically threw herself at him.
Oooohhhh! The sensation of being skin to skin was glorious. He was hot as a fireball and as hard as a stone wall. When he fondled her breasts and rubbed her suddenly so-sensitive nipples, internal sparks traveled from them to her center and below. She began to ache.
When he pulled back, she protested and tried to recapture his hands. He grabbed hers instead.
“Wait, honey, and let me look at you for a minute.” He released her hands to turn on the bedside lamp.
Oh, good idea. If she had enjoyed observing his bare chest before, the sight of him now stopped her breath. The soft light beautifully illuminated him, all broad shoulders and strong muscles and a light dusting of brown hair on his chest. Her fingers itched to explore.
At the same time, he looked at her, and she could feel the path his gaze took over her own body. When she took a deep breath, trying to get much needed air into her lungs, he groaned.
He swooped her up and deposited her on the bed. Mumbling something about where the unfasten spell was when he needed it, he opened her belt buckle, pants button, and zipper. He slid her pants down and off, taking her underwear, shoes, and socks with them.
“Oh, Irenee, you are so beautiful,” he murmured while he leaned over her and raised her hand to his lips. He kissed her palm, and the simple caress made her toes curl.
He placed her hand by her side and straightened to make quick work of taking off the rest of his clothes, while he continued to study her.
She was surprised to realize she had no sense of modesty or shyness at all. In fact, she enjoyed being looked at—by him. He obviously liked it—the heat coming from his gaze would have melted every flake in a twelve-inch Chicago snowfall.
She did some studying of her own. From his muscle definition, he must work out, although he was by no means a bodybuilder. More like extremely fit. The ripple of the muscles under his skin as he bent and rose fascinated her. She noted some scars, one a long gash on his left side, evidence of his dangerous occupation. His sex rose proudly from its nest of dark curls, and even though she knew better, she couldn’t help wondering a little if it would fit.
When he lay down beside her and took her in his arms, their bodies met from top to bottom. She ceased worrying about anything.
If she thought it pleasant to be skin to skin with their chests, full body contact far surpassed that mild delight. To touch and be touched was enchanting. To curl a leg around his and slide a foot along his calf was thrilling. To feel his thigh pressing against the aching junction between her legs was marvelous. To kiss and be kissed was glorious.
It was too much to take in all at once, so she gave up trying. The most she could concentrate on was one piece at a time.
First, his mouth. His lips were soft, but firm, his tongue agile as she returned his kiss. When he ended the kiss, he nibbled his way to her ear and neck. She discovered she was ticklish in one particular spot, and he chuckled when she squirmed. He paused to lick the pulse point in her neck—which only made her heart beat faster—before continuing to her shoulder and collarbone.
Then, his hand—large, rough, and callused. He leaned on one elbow above her and with the other hand caressed her from her foot up her leg and her hip to stop right under her breast.
Oh, how she wanted him to touch her there. She could feel her nipples tightening, her breasts swelling, and she pushed the side of her body up as much as she could to give him a hint. When he didn’t take it, she ran her fingers into his hair and tugged.
He raised his head and kissed her on the lips before she could tell him what she wanted. His kiss did nothing to lessen her need, so she put her hand on top of his and dragged it up to where she wanted it.
He raised his head again, gave her a devilish smile, and swirled his fingers around her breast, finally tweaking the nipple. She gasped as the contact increased the ache between her legs. She didn’t have time, however, to process how it was affecting her because, without a pause, he took her into his mouth and suckled.
Oh, yes! She closed her eyes, arched her back to give him better access, and moaned when new nerve endings sparked again, in her breasts, in her center, in her womb. He kissed his way to her other breast, and the effects doubled.
They tripled when he cupped her curls and stroked a finger into her folds. They quadrupled when he slid the finger into her. They went off the scale when he also rubbed his thumb over her little nub of nerve endings. She moaned again when every muscle in her clenched.
“Irenee.” His voice was hoarse and low.
She opened her eyes. He was staring at her, his face stark, a flush on his cheekbones, his eyes so dark that only a rim of golden green showed.
“I’m yours. Are you mine?”
“Yes,” she answered, her voice as throaty as his. “I’m yours, and you’re mine.”
He gave her a soft kiss, moved between her legs, and braced himself on his arms above her. “Guide me into you.”
She took him in her hands, marveling for a second at the heated steel beneath the silky covering before raising her hips and positioning him at her entrance. She lifted her eyes to his, and he slowly pushed inside.
“Jim?” A little panic struck her when the pressure increased and she felt herself stretching. It only hurt a little, and she told herself to relax. It wasn’t easy to do, however, as he filled her.
“Shhh. It’s all right,” Jim assured her in a grating tone. “You’re so tight and so wet, and it feels so good.” He leaned down and took her mouth, his tongue pushing deep, retreating, plunging deep again.
His hot kiss took her mind off everything except returning it, and when he raised his head again, she realized he was completely inside her. If there had been pain, she hadn’t felt it. She did feel stretched, but not uncomfortable. In fact, when she looked at them joined together, a sense of completeness filled her. Her center fluttered happily. This was the way they were supposed to be.
“Put your legs around me,” he grated out.
When she did, he began to move.
Slowly at first. Faster as she picked up his rhythm. He started adding a little twist to his hips when they met hers, a movement that touched her nub and sent shooting stars through her system. She had to be incandescent by now.
He came down on his elbows and kissed her again—deeper, a little more roughly. A claiming, possessive, I’m-yours-you’re-mine kiss. She returned it.
Magic energy began to hum around them.
Irenee’s world narrowed to Jim’s kiss and their bodies moving together. His tongue was matching his body in rhythm. She gripped first his arms, then his sides, as his hips rose and fell. Energy sparked throughout her body, increasingly so where they touched. As she met his thrusts, pressure began to build inside her, a pressure that arched her back, pushed her upward, tightened all her muscles.
She was climbing, striving to reach a point she couldn’t see, but knew was just there only a few inches beyond her reach. He must be trying to get there, too, because they were both groaning with each thrust.
The fireworks within her burst faster, bigger, became Roman candles and sparkling flowers on the back of her eyelids and within her.
Just as she reached the peak, the shooting stars, the lightning bolts, the fireballs, all exploded into a conflagration of colors and heat and light... and ecstasy.
The shock waves buffeted them both for what seemed like hours and left them tangled together, breathless and exhausted.
The world slowly came back into perspective. He slid off to her side, an action that disconnected them and left her momentarily disoriented. His pulling her against him and her arms about him settled her equilibrium.
How splendid, she thought when her brain began functioning again. How marvelous making love was. How absolutely incredible her soul mate. She kissed his shoulder, the only part of him her lips could reach, and hugged him tight.
After his breathing slowed to a normal rate, he opened his eyes, looked deep into hers, and whispered, “Oh, wow!”
“Holy shit,” she answered with a smile.
He laughed and loosened his arms. Leaning back, he brushed a lock of hair from her forehead and gave her a soft kiss.
“I think I was hit by a magic bombshell,” she said.
“Good. I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels that way” He ran a finger down her shoulder and around her breast.
She put her hand on top of his to stop his exploration so she could think about what had happened. “Did you hear the energy hum?”
“All I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears. What does a hum mean? Are we bonded now?”
“I don’t know about the hum, but I don’t think so about the bonding. There’s something we need to do in the middle of it. Bridget was explicit.”
He didn’t let her hand stop him from fondling, when he asked, “Bridget? What’s she got to do with us and this?”
“She gave me some tips for mating.” She grabbed hold of his busy hand and laced her fingers with his. She looked into his eyes and felt her body respond. She didn’t seem to be as tired as all the exertion should have made her. “I’ll show you the next time. How soon can we do it again?”
He groaned, seemed to think for a minute, then grinned. “It looks like I’m beginning to recover already. Maybe there’s something to the soul-mate stuff after all. Fergus did say something about increased stamina, didn’t he? Let me get something to clean us up.”
He left the bed for the bathroom and returned in a minute with a damp washcloth.
When he sat on the bed with the clear intention of helping her “clean up,” she took the cloth out of his hand. The idea was suddenly too much, too new, too personal. She rose, saying, “I’ll be right back.”
He was sitting on top of the bedspread, so she couldn’t even try to wrap it around her. Naked, she scooted into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Men, or at least this one, had no sense of propriety, of modesty. She looked at herself in the mirror and rolled her eyes. Of course, considering the intimacy of what they’d been doing . . . She shook her head and watched her hair fly. It was still too much.
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