Hurricane (Last Call #2) Page 2

  He sounded so sure. Fiona let go of his neck and reached down to untie her wraparound shirt. “I’m glad.” The scarlet-colored silk fell open, revealing the skimpiest bra she owned.

  “Now, now.” His hands caught hers again. “No distracting me, or I’m going to blow us both into tiny little pieces.” He shifted his hands to her shoulders and turned her slightly, until they faced a full length mirror on the wall next to a mahogany dresser.

  In the mirror, she saw the dark glint of desire in his eyes as he pulled her shirt slowly from her body. “I’m going to do things to you that Robert Carmichael couldn’t begin to imagine. And when you can’t take it anymore, when you’re truly satisfied for the first time in years…” He pinched her taut nipple through her bra and watched her in the mirror as she gasped. “I’m going to break your curse. And then I’m going to let you fuck me.”

  His low, confident words were as maddening as his hands. Her knees weakened, and she sagged into his embrace. “It’s a deal. But you might have to tie me down.” Even now, her hands itched to stroke his skin.

  “No. I won’t have to.” Her shirt hit the floor and he reached around to undo the clasp between her breasts, freeing them without touching them. The cool air whispered across them, tightening her nipples, and he laughed softly as he lifted her arms above her head. “Was Robert so uncreative with his power?”

  Her arms may as well have been tied, fettered with invisible bonds. “If you keep talking about Robbie the Jackass, it’s going to take you a while to bring all these crazy orgasms you keep bragging about.” His fingers brushed her rib cage and she shuddered.

  “Oh, I don’t know…” His hands finally covered her breasts again, skin on skin, and he caught her gaze in the mirror and held it. “Tell me. Your dirtiest, darkest fantasy. The one you barely admit to yourself.”

  She didn’t have any left. For five long, lonely years, she’d only wanted to be touched. He’d already done that, deeper than anyone she could remember. “Hot guy, focused on nothing but making me come over and over? I’d say this is pretty much it.”

  Ben told himself he couldn’t lose it. Even now, safe within the strongest magical shields he could call up, her curse pressed against him and threatened to bring the room crashing in around them. How she’d lived for five long years under the crushing weight of such dark magic was inconceivable.

  And, when I’ve helped her, I’ll be paying Robert Carmichael a visit. The petty cruelty of barring an ex-lover from the comforts of human touch was bad enough, but Robert had tangled Fiona’s own magical power up in the curse, feeding it on her pain and loneliness until she was hurting herself every time she yearned for human contact.

  Protective anger filled him, and he used that to ground himself as he drew his fingers in a slow circle around one nipple. It hardened even further under his touch, her entire body hungry and so responsive it made him ache. He resisted the temptation to rub his cock against her ass and pinched her nipple instead. “Do you have a preference for this first time? It’s been so long, it seems only fair you get to choose.”

  Her hair, dark in the dim light, flew around her face as she shook her head. “Any way. I don’t care, just -- please. Please.”

  He gritted his teeth and dropped his hands to her low-riding jeans. “Fast, then. Fast and hard.”

  “Yes,” she hissed, her hips bucking in his hands. He held her still so he could unbutton her jeans and drag down the zipper, revealing the soft black lace he’d felt earlier in the elevator. She tensed. “Are you sure I won’t hurt you?”

  The honest answer would be no, but it was the last thing she needed to hear. He dragged his hands down the outsides of her thighs as he sank to his knees and set to work on the long zipper on the side of her left boot. “I’m stronger than Robert Carmichael on his best day. And I’m rich enough that I’ll get over losing the furnishings in here, if worse comes to worst.”

  She laughed, a husky, almost shaky sound, and fidgeted under his hands. “I’d never forgive myself if I incinerated your priceless art. Or, you know, you.”

  Ben chuckled as he tugged the boot off her left foot. “I promise I won’t let you hurt me. The art… Well, I’ll try not to let you hurt the art.” He brushed his lips over the small of her back as he moved his hands to her other boot, enjoying the taste of her skin.

  She hissed again and trembled, and not from pleasure. “I’m nervous. How stupid is that?”

  “Shh.” Of course she was nervous, if pleasure had brought her nothing but tragedy for the past five years. Ben slid her other boot free and coaxed her pants down, then whispered two words against the skin of her hip. The spell holding her upright dissipated, and he caught her in his arms as he rose to his feet. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

  Fiona turned and wrapped her arms around his neck again. He felt the press of her breasts through the worn fabric of his T-shirt. “I was sort of good at this, if memory serves.” Her hips rubbed against his in a slow, sinuous motion, and the lights flared and went out. “Dammit.”

  “Plenty of time to be good at this again. Later.” He flicked his fingers and whispered the spell to call fire. A moment later candles flared around them, filling the room with flickering shadows as he hooked an arm under her legs and lifted her easily.

  He set her down in the center of his bed and stepped back to admire the contrast of her pale skin against the dark Egyptian cotton sheets, their burgundy color rendered almost black in the dim light cast by the candles. “You’re a beautiful woman. It’s a shame you’ve gone so long without pleasure.”

  “Thank you.” Her blush was evident even in the candlelight. “I tried a lot. In the beginning. But I’ve never been really good with it. The magic, I mean.”

  Ben frowned as he toed off his shoes. “You mean you tried to use your magic to break the curse?”

  “I thought I could do it.” She stretched a little and flashed him a rueful smile. “Yes, I already know I made it worse.”

  His shirt followed his shoes, and he paused for a moment and enjoyed the way her gaze slid over his chest. She was hungry for him. Not just for pleasure, though she was desperate for that, but she wanted him. It was going to make her inevitable ecstasy that much sweeter.

  Caution made him leave his jeans on as he slid onto the bed and propped himself up on one arm next to her. The temptation to sink into her body and drive them both into oblivion was strong, but he was fairly certain his bar would follow shortly behind them. So instead he dropped his hand to her stomach and traced his fingers lightly up the center of her chest as he smiled at her. “The curse is tied to your magic. He’s using your power to fuel his ill-intent. Even if you were good at using your power, you’re crippled now. Every time you try, you wrap yourself tighter in this curse.”

  “Mmm.” Fiona seemed too distracted by the movement of his lips to pay attention to his words, and she leaned up to brush a soft kiss over the corner of his mouth. “Tied to my magic. Got it.” She skimmed one hand over his chest and kissed him again.

  He laughed against her mouth and caught one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. A whisper of magic warmed his hand, and a little bit more cooled the sheets beneath her until she was trapped between conflicting sensations.

  She dropped her head back to the pillow, her hair fanning out over the cotton, and writhed under his touch. “God, that feels good.”

  “Good.” Watching her move on the sheets did nothing to alleviate his arousal. He fought a brief struggle against the urge to rub his rock-hard cock against her hip and settled for dropping his lips to her other breast. The nipple tightened under his tongue, and he steeled himself against her excited little noise as he drew the bud lightly between his teeth.

  On the other side of the room, a vase exploded.

  “Fuck.” She tensed again, even as another breathy moan escaped her. “It’s only going to get worse, Ben.”

  He lifted his head and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he channeled some of the sexual
energy strung out between them into strengthening the shields. “I don’t care,” he whispered hoarsely as the magic snapped into place. One hand fisted in the delicate black lace of her panties, and he all but tore them from her body. “You can’t live like this. You’ll die inside.”

  She arched her hips and bit her lip to stifle a groan. “Touch me.” He could almost see the guilt that tinged her words even as her legs parted. “Please --”

  “Yes.” He slipped his fingers between her legs and found her wetter than he could have imagined. A groan escaped him as he stroked her clit and watched her body jerk. “Tell me, Fiona. Tell me what you need.”

  “In-Inside me.” She shook and gripped his shoulder with one hand while the other drifted down to cover his. Ben heard something else shatter. ”I need your fingers inside me.”

  The candles next to the bed flared dangerously, and Ben swore as he poured even more power into keeping the magic in the room from tearing them both apart. He stroked his fingers down and slid one inside her, groaning again at the thought of that wet heat gripping his cock. She was so damn tight, neglected for so long that even one finger stretched her.

  He worked it in and out for a few moments as she writhed and panted and nearly made him come in his jeans at the noises she made. And when she was whimpering with need and finally, finally, pushing toward release, he lowered his head and dragged his tongue over her clit as he thrust a second finger inside her.

  He was going to make her come if it was the last thing he did… and right now he was starting to think it just might be.

  Fiona clutched the smooth sheets and fought back tears. Every single thing Ben did, every breath he drew, drove her higher and harder toward what had to be a blinding orgasm… if only she could let it come.

  Relax, she chided herself, trembling with need. You have to relax. He was trying so damn hard, too, angling his fingers inside her as he curled his tongue around her clit. He was past teasing, shaking as badly as she was, probably as much from the effort of keeping them in one piece as from pleasuring her.

  “God damn it,” she ground out, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, I can’t --”

  “You can.” He crooked his fingers and brought his thumb up to ply her clit as he whispered dirty words against her thigh. “You’re going to come so hard you’ll be begging me for air. And then I’m going to do it again, Fiona. I’ll fuck you with my fingers until your tight little pussy can’t take it anymore. And when you’re begging for the pleasure to stop…” She felt phantom fingers brush lower, until a warm thread of power teased around her ass. “Would you like it if I took you like that?”

  His words raced through her like an electric shock, and Fiona shuddered. She raised her head to answer him, but the sheer intensity of the desire etched on his face stole her breath. He watched her, his jaw tight, eyes blazing through the dark fall of his hair, and something inside her seized. Clenched.

  Her head fell back, and she lay there for an endless moment, frozen. Then she drove her hands into his hair and arched her back. “Yes --” The pressure snapped -- inside her and out -- and she closed her eyes as pleasure swelled inside her in an unbelievable, overwhelming wave.

  Oh God, finally… The world drew close, centered on the spots where Ben stroked her, and she screamed as the wave crashed over her and exploded, sending sharp spikes of pleasure through her body.

  She faintly heard Ben’s voice, no longer whispering illicit things but chanting in deep, rolling Latin. His fingers never stopped moving as he met magic with magic, power with power. She felt the tiniest crack in the dark curse wrapped around her, and he filled it with his presence as he twisted his fingers inside her and coaxed another spike of ecstasy out of her already shaking body.

  The magic swirling through the room tingled across her skin, and her cries subsided to murmured pleas. Another orgasm swept through her, leaving her writhing in choked silence. If someone had told her his words would be true, that she’d have to beg him to stop, she’d have laughed. She’d gone so long without release, and yet his hands on her, in her, coaxed such a sharp response that the pleasure bordered on pain. “Wait,” she rasped. “I need -- fuck.”

  He slipped away and rolled onto his back next to her, his breath coming in heavy pants. “Are you all right?”

  Maybe it wasn’t the magic in the room making her skin tingle, because the sensation permeated her body. “I’m so far beyond all right. I think I’m floating.”

  “Good.” His voice sounded hoarse and low. “Because not taking you this second is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

  A thin sheen of sweat covered his skin. Fiona stroked his chest as she sat up, moving to kneel by his legs. “The curse is weak right now, drained. I can feel it.” She reached for his belt and bent to lick a path across his stomach.

  “Maybe --” A low groan left him as he curled his fingers in her hair. “Fuck, maybe I just don’t care.”

  “You care. You love this place.” His muscles trembled under her fingers, and hunger stabbed through her again. She tugged down his zipper and opened his pants, revealing sensuous black silk. A quick, appreciative smile curved her lips as she freed his cock from the boxers. When she wrapped her hand around his hard length, he arched up with a choked noise.

  His cock pulsed in her hand, stiff and ready, the head already slicked with moisture. She laved it away, humming her approval, and he swore as his fingers tightened in her hair. His hips came up off the bed just enough to push him deeper into her mouth, and he groaned. “That’s good, that’s really fucking good…”

  Feeling how close he was to his own peak -- and knowing that touching her had aroused him this much -- elicited a moan from her. It vibrated around him as she dipped her head, swirling her tongue along the underside of his cock. She sucked him in once, all the way to the base, and backed off with gentle, delicate licks.

  “Again,” he demanded, voice trembling. The muscles of his stomach tensed as

  he chased her mouth up again. “Harder. Fuck, more --”

  His words cut off in another groan as she abandoned the teasing and obeyed, his harsh, desperate demands turning her on as much as the taste of him. Fiona cupped his balls and hummed again, fixing her gaze on his face. His entire body was tight, poised on the edge, and she felt the heavy press of magic in the air.

  He came with a hoarse shout and a pulse of magic that raised the hair on the back of her neck. His hips popped up and his fingers tightened until he pulled her hair a little, but a moment later he let go as he sank back to the bed with a ragged curse.

  Satisfaction curled through Fiona as she kissed a path up his stomach and chest. “Nothing caught fire,” she whispered against his shoulder. “That’s progress.”

  A low chuckle left him as he plunged his fingers into her hair and dragged her mouth to his. It was a hot kiss, hard and demanding, and she was so focused on the delicious way his tongue explored her mouth that she didn’t realize they were moving until her back hit the sheets again.

  He lifted his head and grinned down at her through the fall of his dark hair. “It is a crime for a woman like you to go without sex for five years.”

  “No argument here,” she laughed. “But I plan on making up for lost time. You might not be able to walk tomorrow.”

  “And you may not be able to walk all weekend.” She felt the stirring of magic in the room again a moment before those phantom fingers returned, teasing between her legs to stroke her clit in a caress made all the more maddening by the fact that the touch felt warm -- almost hot -- and continued even when his fingers twined with hers and pinned her hands to the bed.

  “Jesus.” Her flesh heated, and she bucked against the twin imprisonment of his hips and hands. His grip held firm, and she grinned as a wicked thought occurred to her. Two can play your game, baby. She bit her lip as magic flared again, and she knew exactly what he’d feel -- the sharp scratch of fingernails down his back and over his ass.

  “Naughty li
ttle witch…” He bit her chin before pulling back again to watch her face. “Stop trying to distract me, unless you want to destroy my priceless art.”

  “Heaven forefend,” she whispered, arching to rub her breasts against his chest. “Kiss me again.”

  His lips drifted over hers, soft and gentle, and in sharp contrast to the sudden intrusion as that hot touch between her legs shifted to fill her. He licked at her lips as he used magic to fuck her, spreading her almost to the point of discomfort before slipping away again. “Better than a vibrator,” he whispered against her lips as he did it again. “I can make it do anything I want. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

  Fiona gasped and bit his lower lip, a knot of tension already coiling inside her. “That’s a dirty skill to cultivate,” she ground out approvingly. “Harder.”

  “Mmm.” He slipped away from her body, but her hands stayed trapped against the bed as he rose to his feet again to push his pants from his hips. He was already half aroused again, and he smiled down at her and reached out to trail his fingers teasingly down her leg. “I’m going to ask you again. What’s your deepest, darkest fantasy?”

  “Fuck me everywhere.” It was the first thing that sprang to mind, and slipped out before she could stop it. Maybe at another time she would have been shocked at the need, but her blush didn’t stop her from clarifying. “It’s easy for you, commanding the magic. Put your tongue in my mouth, and everything else is up to you.”

  Ben froze with his fingers on the inside of Fiona’s knee and took a deep breath. The dirty proposition brought him back to painful, raging arousal, but it wasn’t what he wanted to do. He wanted to sink into her body and lose himself, or pull her on top of him and watch her ride him over the edge. He wanted things that were less about the dirtiest fucking he could imagine and more about sharing pleasure with her.

  It could have been the overwhelming protectiveness that had seized him when she’d finally given in to release. In that moment he’d slipped under the curse and touched her spirit, the core of magic that made up everything she was. And he’d found something beautiful. Wounded, but beautiful.