Witch Blood (10 page)

Stefan's face fell and he blinked slowly. His expression as he glanced away could only be described as vulnerable. “Control, Thomas. I have a complex about control. That's something a warlock has a lot of.” His voice trembled.

For a moment, Thomas almost thought he understood Stefan. That scary second burned itself into his psyche. He knew Stefan's history, knew the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of his biological parents, knew he'd suffered even more when he'd run away from France's child protective services and survived on the streets. Knew he'd been shaped like hot glass in an artisan's hands by his adoptive father, William Crane.

Control? Yes, he just bet Stefan had issues about control. So would anyone who had been so completely under the thumb of another his entire life. Bitterness stung the back of Thomas's tongue. The last thing he wanted to have for Stefan was empathy.

“A warlock has control, you say?” Thomas narrowed his eyes. “Not here in Gribben.”

Unable to take the sight of him any longer, Thomas turned on his heel headed for the exit. Stefan's crazy laughter followed him out the door and down the corridor.

Thomas could still hear it echoing in his head even when he'd left Gribben—with utter relief—and found sanctuary in the Coven library.

He sank down in the leather chair facing his desk, propped his elbows on the armrests and stared out the huge window at the end of the room, willing the sound of that laughter away. Stefan's voice, his laughter, the edge of sympathy he'd felt for him back in the cell, all of it infected him. It made him wish for a shot glass and something hard and wet to fill it.

“Thomas?” A warm hand touched his upper arm. He turned his head to see Isabelle's concerned face. He hadn't heard her enter the library—a thing that no other witch would have dared do without permission, no other witch but Isabelle.

Thomas found he didn't mind.

She'd changed out of her ruined clothes, into an ankle-length blue-patterned peasant skirt and a white blouse. Her hair hung long and loose over her shoulders. She looked beautiful, but then she always looked beautiful.

He stood, resisting the urge to catch her up and bury his face in her hair. He wanted to take her upstairs to his room and drown himself in her softness, scent, and curves. Sinking into her would drive off Stefan's laughter. Her body, breath, and spirit could chase everything else away and leave only pleasure. She'd let him. Thomas knew she was his for the taking…but she'd been injured in the fight. “Are you okay?”

She nodded and touched her ribs. “It wasn't a bad injury, just painful. Doctor Oliver fixed me up with the help of a few fire witches. But what about you? They told me you haven't been in to see the doctor yet.” She glanced at his ripped and dirty clothes. “You haven't even changed.”

“I'm okay. Just working.”

She forced him to turn toward her and pushed his hair away from his face. “You don't look okay and you feel tired and troubled to me. Your emotions are…twisted. Why haven't you been to the doc?”

“I'm not injured, Isabelle.”

“Then why do you feel so beaten up to me?”

He smiled. “I didn't know you cared.”

She grinned, glanced down the length of his body and gave him a slow wink. “Maybe I'm just worried you won't feel like picking up where we left off in the apartment.”

Ah.
He traced the curve of her jaw with the pad of his thumb. “I meant what I said back there. I want you, Isabelle, but maybe this isn't the—”

She reached between their bodies and cupped his groin. “I need to have it all wiped away, Thomas.” Her voice trembled. “Clean. Can you do that for me? Make it all go away for a while? The demon, the memories. Make me drown in you?”

Whoa
. Warning bells sounded in his head. She wanted what he wanted. Maybe they could help each other. Still, this was going too fast, happening too soon, feeling too reckless.

Need overrode reason in two seconds flat.

He couldn't wait to feel her smooth skin against his, to slide his cock into her slick sex and to feel her come around him. Thomas wanted to hear all the sweet little sounds she made while she climaxed. Like a man who hadn't had anything to eat or drink in weeks, he caught her around her waist and kissed her.

No hesitation. Nothing to say. Just action.

H
IS HANDS FOUND HER HAIR AND FISTED GENTLY,
controlling her head as he explored the depths of her mouth.

Isabelle's breath hitched and a shudder of pleasure ran through her at the press of his lips and the long, thorough swipes of his tongue against her tongue. The man could probably make her come just with his kiss alone. The sheer sense of being lost in all that masculinity and magick, the taste of his mouth on hers, all of it had literally taken her breath away, made her unsteady on her feet.

Now she drowned in him. That's what she'd wanted.

He kissed her hard and deep, driving his tongue past her lips and forcing her tongue to spar with his. His powerful chest rubbed her taut nipples through the fabric of her shirt and his hard cock jabbed her stomach through his pants. She ached to stroke that impressive erection, wanted nothing more than to have his bare chest against hers while his cock tunneled deep inside her.

As soon as she'd walked into the library, Thomas's mood had closed over her in a shroud of anger, grief, and confusion. Outwardly the world saw him as cold and controlled. Inwardly, hot passion flourished. It was a contradiction Isabelle found incredibly attractive. Wildness strained at the end of the tight leash Thomas kept on his behavior.

Isabelle intended to yank it free.

Once she'd touched his shoulder and he'd turned to see her face, all that complex, brimming emotion had transmuted to pure sexual hunger. Hunger for her. Even though he'd tried to downplay it, it had been there, beckoning.

She'd seen no purpose in letting all that lovely male need go unanswered. She needed him, too.

Lady, she needed him right now so very much. Her hands tightened on his upper arms, where his hard muscles bunched and flexed.

“The door isn't locked,” she pointed out breathlessly when they finally came up for air.

“I don't care. Doesn't matter anyway. No one comes in here without knocking…except you,” he answered before attacking her mouth again. Then he lifted his head. “Condom, damn it.”

She shook her head and smiled. “I'm protected.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can't have babies. My female plumbing is irregular.”

He blinked. “I'm sorry.”

“That's life, isn't it? She's such a bitch sometimes.”

The familiar tang of loss welled up over never being able to have children, but she tamped it down. Her life wasn't made for babies, anyway.

She forced his mouth back down on hers for a moment before murmuring, “Make it sweeter for me for a while, Thomas.”

He gathered her skirt in one hand, fisting it and dragging it upward, while he used his other hand to press her against him by the small of her back. Her spine curved, forcing her body into his, as his mouth dropped to her throat to lick and nibble. Goosebumps erupted over her body and a low moan escaped her throat.

Her hands found the buttons of his battle-bedraggled shirt and began working them free. She couldn't wait to explore that gorgeous chest and the six-pack abs he'd revealed earlier that day. She wanted to lick every inch of his tattoo. So much to do.

If any witch interrupted them now, she'd freeze them where they stood.

He finished yanking her skirt up to her waist and slipped his hand down her panties, finding her hot, wet, and very anticipatory.

If he wanted her ready,
well
….

Isabelle had become aroused the moment she'd entered the library and found him sitting there looking so brooding. The man did brooding like nobody's business.

She spread her thighs, giving him better access. His fingers stroked her folds and found her clit. Her breath hissed out of her. He rubbed it with the pad of his index finger until he'd tripped her trigger.

“Does that feel good?” he murmured into her ear.

She did her level best not to pant. “If you're not inside me soon, I'm going to come against your hand.”

He smiled against her earlobe. “I guess that's a yes.”

“
Yes
.”

He forcibly yanked her head to the side and nibbled his way down her throat, making her shiver, making her hotter and wetter between her thighs. Thomas made love the way she'd assumed he would—commanding her and overwhelming her.

He made a low sound in his throat when she ran her hands over his chest, tangling her fingers through the smattering of dark hair. She had an empathic flash of just how much he enjoyed being touched. He ached for it, craved her hands and lips on him. Perhaps, because of his position at the Coven, he wasn't touched that often.

She could definitely make up for some of that now. With pleasure.

Isabelle dropped to her knees in front of him, giving him a coy upward glance as she undid his belt and the buttons of his ripped and dirty trousers. Hell, they needed to come off anyway. Keeping her gaze on his, she pulled his pants and boxers down, and then allowed him to kick them off along with his shoes. She rocked back on her heels and stared.

Gah
. The man was a God.

Her mouth went dry at the sight of him standing there in only his unbuttoned shirt. He had the body of a man who worked out on a regular basis, someone who really took care of himself. Strong legs met narrow hips melding into washboard abs and then into that wonderful drool-inducing expanse of muscled chest.

And his cock.

Nope, this guy had never been ashamed in the locker room a day in his life. She grasped the wide base and let her gaze eat up the ropy veins that traversed it, the swollen, velvet-soft head.

“Mmm,” she murmured right before she licked it.

Thomas swore under his breath and fisted his hands in her hair.

She glanced up at him. “I have a feeling this lovely cock has been neglected, Thomas. What's wrong with the women in this Coven, anyway?”

He opened his mouth to reply but she lowered her lips around his shaft, relaxing her throat muscles so she could take him deep. A strangled groan of pleasure came from his mouth. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes.

Isabelle closed her eyes, too, enjoying the musky scent and taste of him, and the way his body tensed in pleasure. She petted his taut balls as she ran her tongue and lips over him, loving the way she could bring this powerful witch to heel, render him senseless, with only the stroke of her mouth.

It was better than magick.

Strong fingers dug into her upper arms, dragging her upward. “You do that well,” he murmured with half-lidded eyes, “but now I want a turn.”

“I'm not one to object.”

He guided her to sit on the edge of his desk, pushed her skirt up to her waist and pulled her panties down and off her legs. The silk whispered over her skin and then was gone.

He held her gaze as he slid his hands up her thighs and slowly parted them. Cool air bathed her already throbbing, needful sex.

Holding her knees well apart, Thomas leaned in and dragged his lips from her inner knee upward, flicking his tongue occasionally to taste her skin. When he reached the apex, he yanked her to the extreme edge of the desk and buried his face in her heat, making her gasp and moan. The sight of his dark head moving between her thighs almost undid her.

His skillful tongue found her clit and licked as he braced her thighs open with strong hands. Isabelle arched her back and sought the opposite edge of the desk, papers, pens, and office paraphernalia be damned. It all slid off, clattered to the floor.

He found the opening of her sex, slick and warm with honey, and rubbed the sensitive area until she threw her head back on a moan. Then he slid two fingers inside, the way she wanted his cock, and thrust in and out while he tongued her swollen, aroused clit.

Her fingers were white where she gripped the desk. The rest of the world fell away as she rode the edge of a swiftly cresting climax. He found her G-spot with unerring accuracy and dragged his fingertips over it. She bucked, sighed, and moved her hips in time to his thrusts, completely swamped and overtaken by sensation.

Her climax tingled through the base of her spine and then exploded upward, engulfing her body in a sweet wash of pleasure that had his name spilling from her lips over and over. He rode her through it, unrelenting in his attention to her already climaxing sex, driving her orgasm harder and faster until she had to stifle her cries so she didn't bring the whole Coven running.

While the waves of her powerful orgasm still gripped her and her muscles had the consistency of warmed butter, Thomas flipped her to lay facedown across the desk. The papers, folders, and pens she hadn't cleared the first time showered to the floor. Neither of them cared.

He pressed the head of his cock against her opening and she spread her thighs wider for him, caught in a haze of decadent pleasure and physical need. The heels she wore made up the difference in their heights, making this position perfect and highly erotic.

She laid her flushed cheek against the top of the cool, smooth desktop and curled her fingers around the edge. “Yes,” she breathed, closing her eyes.

Thomas grabbed her hips and, inch by incredible inch, impaled her on his cock. Her thighs hit the edge of the desk and her rear made contact with Thomas as he hilted within her. He stilled, allowing her body to stretch to accommodate his width and length.

“That's good, Thomas,” she managed breathlessly. He filled her so deliciously it brought tears of pleasure to her eyes. She was no angel, but it had been a while since she'd been with a man.

“Not as good as this.” He pulled out slowly and pushed back in. They both groaned. He set up a slow pace that allowed her to feel every luscious inch of his cock as it tunneled in and out of her.

Every inward thrust made her mind stutter and her breath come quick as he pushed her closer and closer to climax. He overwhelmed her body with pleasure, by the slow glide of his cock and how the head of it rubbed her G-spot in this position.

By the time she'd lost the ability to think at all, trading cognition for pure sexual sensation, he'd increased the pace of his thrusts, taking her harder and faster.

She hung on, her thighs hitting the desk on every primal, animalistic push of his cock into her body. Isabelle loved it when a man who knew what he was doing took control during sex—and Thomas knew what he was doing.

Another powerful climax overtook her, shaking her to the core. The muscles of her sex pulsed and contracted around his still-thrusting cock, pleasure exploding through her body. She clawed the top of his desk.

His big body shuddered and tensed against her. He let out a low groan that made the hair on her body stand on end, and then whispered her name.

Once the tremors had eased for both of them, they found themselves draped inelegantly across his desk and breathing heavily. “Uh,” was all Isabelle could utter.

Thomas helped her up, turned her to face him and kissed her. The kiss was long and slow, all caressing lips and gentle nips of his teeth. She sighed contentedly into his mouth and allowed him to hold her close. His fingers played with the buttons on her shirt, slowly undoing them one by one.

“I'll never be able to look at your desk the same way again,” she murmured.

He nuzzled her breast, where it swelled above her bra. “Come to my bed and let me change your perspective on that piece of furniture, too.”

She gave a low, throaty, satisfied laugh. “Trust me; I never would've regarded your bed with anything but plans for how to get into it.”

His long hair brushed her bare skin and she shivered. He cupped her breast and rubbed the pad of his thumb over her nipple through the silk of her bra.

“Consider your plan successful.” He motioned to the door. “Come on, it's late. I bet we can make it all the way to my room half naked and not be seen.”

She laughed and bit her lower lip in consideration. Isabelle wanted to feel his body bare and moving against hers, wanted to feel the luscious lick of all that hair against her skin.

“I'll bet you one sexual favor, winner's choice, that we run into someone on the way to your room. The odds are with me. It's Murphy's Law.”

He shrugged. “It's a win-win situation for me. Either way you end up in my room tonight.”

“Then let's go.”

Thomas pulled his pants on, but left his shirt open and his hair mussed. Isabelle let her skirt fall into place and buttoned her shirt.

They left the library and made their way through the foyer and up the stairs. Whispering softly to one another, they passed through the darkened hallways of the Coven, the place seeming warm and intimate to Isabelle this late into the night.

When they were close to Thomas's room, they turned a corner and came face-to-face with Adam. He stood staring at them for moment and then broke into a grin. “Go on, boss, you bad, bad boy,” he drawled with a wink before he continued on his way.

Isabelle grinned. “I win.”

Adam's surprised reaction both times he'd seen her and Thomas together confirmed Isabelle's hunch. Despite Thomas's hotness, he wasn't exactly known for his sexual exploits around the Coven. Thomas Monahan was, for all intents and purposes, the king of witchdom. Maybe women avoided him because of his title.