0449474001339292671 4 fighting faer (8 page)

“No, they’re real. But they’re short, ugly, foul-tempered little bastards. You can’t mistake one for being Fae.”

“Yeah, well, the witnesses must have missed that day of Things That Don’t Exist 101.” She retrieved her backpack from the floor where she’d dropped it and brought it back to the sofa. Digging out her notebook, she flipped open to the section marked, “What Did I Do to Deserve This?” and skimmed through her notes. “None of the initial reports were all that much help. They all saw basically the same thing: tall blond guy, brick walls, bright lights, disappearing trick. Of course, the initial reports are more like third-hand scuttlebutt, since the police weren’t exactly interested in filing reports on the ravings of folks they assumed should be in Bellevue.”

“Did the witnesses talk to anyone other than the police?”

“A couple of tabloids, a PI or two. Those reports aren’t much better, though.” She snapped her notebook shut. “That’s why I had intended to start doing interviews tomorrow. I need to talk to the witnesses firsthand if I’m going to get to the bottom of anything.” Luc nodded. “Great. Then that’s what we’ll do.”

“Um, excuse me?” Had he not been paying attention for the last 45 mutes while she’d been ripping him a new asshole? “What’s with this ‘we,’ white man? This is my story, and I’ll do the research if it kills me.

I’ll even agree to share my information with you, but you are not coming along with me on my interviews.”

“Yes. I am.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward and prayed for patience. “Why do I always have to deal with the difficult ones?”

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you’re the one who’s being difficult?”

“Considering that I was living my life and minding my own business until you showed up and turned it all upside down on me? Hmm, let me think. “ She pursed her lips, tapped her index finger against them, stared up at the ceiling and counted to three. “Um, no.”

“Does this mean we’re going to fight again?”

His long hair had come loose from its club while they were fucking like bunnies, and he hadn’t bothered to pull it back again. It draped over his shoulders and bare chest like a blanket of dark silk, making her palms itch to stroke it. Clearly he wasn’t playing fair, to have hair like that.

She ignored the endearing, adorable-little-boy look on his face and crossed her arms over her chest.

“No, actually. It means that you’re going to vacate my apartment before I get testy, and I’m going to do my interview alone tomorrow. If you manage not to piss me off between now and then, I’ll even be sure to tell you what I found out.”

He heaved a sigh of bone-deep weariness and rose to his feet, stretching to his full six and a half feet of
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height so he could tower over her with ease. “Yeah, we’re going to fight.” The man was as thick as the
Sunday Times
. “We. Are. Not. Fighting.” She took care to enunciate each word, just in case English wasn’t his first language. Who knew? Maybe they spoke something else in Faerie. “You are leaving, I’m going to bed, and if you want to know how my interview goes, call me tomorrow night. Got it? Good.”

She stomped toward the door, trying to pretend that he had actually made a move to follow. She wasn’t that gullible.

“You have no idea how badly I wish I could just put you under a sleep spell,” he said, from his very not-moving spot near the sofa. “It would make my life so much easier.” Corinne could feel herself blanch. The idea that he could use magic on her had never occurred to her. Of course, she’d never known a Fae before. “You could do that?”

“Not to you,” he grumbled.

“Thank Go—er, I mean, how come?”

He hesitated. “For the same reason you could see that I wasn’t human before. My magic doesn’t work on you.” She opened her mouth to ask him why not, but he cut her off. “It does work on other people, though. Which is one of the reasons why I need to be with you at your interview tomorrow. I’ll be able to tell if the person you talk to is lying. I might even be able to help him remember details they can’t consciously recall.”

If that was true, it might be useful to have him along, but she’d be damned if she planned to let him know she felt that way. Instead of agreeing, she heaved a pained sigh. “You’re not going to give up on this, are you?”

Luc shook his head. “Nope.”

“Fine.” She scooped up her notebook, scribbled out the address of interview number one, ripped out the page and held it out to him. “Then meet me here tomorrow at ten a.m., and we’ll see what we can find out.”

He glanced down at the address and his mouth quirked. “The Pink Pillow?”

“Yes, I agree that it’s a ridiculous name, but that’s where our first witness is. He’s the owner.”

“Ah, the sex shop owner. I’m really glad it isn’t the rabbi.” Corinne refused to laugh. “Ten o’clock,” she repeated, crossing back to the door and yanking it open.

He looked out into the hallway, then back at her, and a slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “Oh, Corinne,” he murmured, stepping closer to her and pushing the door gently closed. “Guess what else I’m not giving up on?”

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He saw the protest register in her eyes before she even opened her mouth, and he stopped it with his tongue. He had more interesting things in mind than protests. Sinking deep into the moist cavern of her mouth, he immersed himself in her flavor again and moaned. Lady, but she tasted good. She heated his blood like Faerie wine, but went to his head twice as fast. Both of them, in fact. He was hard the instant he touched her.

He filled his hands with her, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her against him. One palm cupped her ass, kneading gently, while the other curled around the back of her skull to hold her in place for his kiss, if kiss was the right word. He wanted to devour her.

The small noises she made in the back of her throat shot through him like magical energy. They sounded soft and helpless and docile, so unlike the woman who made them, and the contrast fascinated him. He traced them to their source, tearing his mouth from hers to forge a trail to her throat with licks and nibbles and consuming kisses. With his tongue pressed against her skin, he could feel the vibrations rumble through her vocal cords every time she made a sound, but knew he still hadn’t found the source. These noises came from deeper inside her.

“Luc.” She pressed her hands feebly against his shoulders, but he refused to budge. When he had his hands on her, the last thing he felt inclined to do was to let her push him away. “You realize…” she was panting, “that this…uhn…this isn’t solving…anything?”

“I don’t care.”

“Right. Well. In that case.”

She stopping pushing him away and wrapped her legs around his waist, hooking her ankles together behind his back and holding him tight. He grunted in satisfaction and looked up from exploring the delicate skin over her collarbone just long enough to scan for a doorway.

“Which way is the bed?”

“Left.”

He took the doorway to the left, walked down a short hall and saw the partly open door to her bedroom. Shouldering his way inside, he carried her to the side of the too narrow bed and dropped her.

She bounced on the springy mattress.

“You need a bigger bed.” The complaint didn’t stop him from shucking off his clothes and setting straight to work on hers, but he thought it needed to be said. He was a big man, and since he intended to be spending a lot of his time in the future getting horizontal with her, it seemed important to have the proper surface. “This is too small for both of us.”

She stripped off her shirt and sent it flying across the room. “So either learn to be inventive, or find someone else to crawl into bed with.”

The thought left him cold. Corinne was his heartmate. Now that he had found her, he wouldn’t be crawling anywhere with anyone else. Ever again. Rather than stifling him, the thought comforted him and he found himself looking forward to a future full of this prickly human.

“I think not.” He reached out to grab her by the ankle and pull her to the side of the bed. She slid easily
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across the cool bedspread and ended up with her hips balanced on the edge of the mattress and her legs dangling over the sides. He solved that problem by kneeling in front of her and hooking her knees over his shoulders. “I think I’ll just improvise.”

With a wicked grin, he bent toward her and sank his tongue deep between the tender folds of her sex.

He heard her cry out, but vaguely, since the blood rushing to his head made it difficult to hear anything.

She tasted crisp and rich and tangy on his tongue, as smooth as cream and as complex as aged whisky.

His tongue traced patterns through her cleft, seeking out the subtle variations of taste and texture, the sensitive places that made her whimper and cry out.

When he closed his teeth around her clit, she moaned, and when he suckled it like a little nipple, she bucked against his mouth. He felt her fingers burrow into his hair, sifting through the strands, cradling him to her. He growled and flicked his tongue against her captive bud, feeling it pulse with the beat of her heart.

Her thighs quivered around his head and he stroked the soft inner skin, tracing the shift and play of the muscles there. They led his fingers higher, over pale golden skin, tight black curls and damp petals in a thousand shades of rose. Her cunt parted for his fingers as it had for his tongue, and he pressed deep inside her entrance, listening for the hitch in her breath, the telltale change in her breathing. Her hips lifted off the mattress, fell back when he eased a second finger past the snug opening to glide over the slippery walls within.

“Luc!”

He hummed a response, fingers twisting, sliding, searching for the sweet spot inside her that would send her even higher. When he found it, she cried out, a breathless, shaken sound, half gasp, half moan. It echoed in his head and teased his hunger even higher. He retaliated by shifting his hand until his thumb glided over the tender spot just below her entrance, pressing against a thousand tiny nerve endings and sending her quivering into climax.

He needed to join her.

Giving her clit one last fond stroke of his tongue, he pushed her legs off his shoulders and let them flop bonelessly to the floor. When he moved out from between them, she pressed her thighs together as if to protect the tender flesh, or to preserve the ripples of sensation coursing through it. Either way, Luc didn’t intend to let her get away with it. He lifted her gently and turned her, positioning her on her stomach in the center of her bed. He snagged three pillows from against the upholstered headboard and lifted her hips to stack them beneath her. They elevated her bottom off the mattress, lifting her toward him and putting her pretty pink cunt on display. That was a sight he wouldn’t mind getting used to.

She made a curious murmuring sound while he positioned himself behind her, but it turned into a long, low moan when he positioned the head of his cock against her entrance and began to press slowly inside.

This time, he wanted to savor her. Their previous matings hadn’t satisfied his hunger, but they had taken the edge off it, so now he could concentrate on moving slowly and feeling every single sensation as a new and exciting experience. He felt the way the folds of her cunt spread around his cock, the way the tight ring of muscle at her entrance gradually stretched to let him inside. He felt the opening of her passage, the miraculous way her body conformed to his, as if her pussy were molding itself to his size and shape so that it would always embrace him as if custom-made for his cock. He had never felt anything more perfect.

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Corinne’s back arched beneath him, pressing her bottom firmly against him. Her breathy moan lasted the entire length of that first stroke, as if he pushed the sound out of her with his cock. It ended on a gasp just as he sank fully inside, but then she angled her hips, lifting her bottom higher and he slipped inside her another inch. They both gasped, and suddenly, slow didn’t seem like the most important thing anymore.

Grasping her hips in his hands, Luc held her still as he began to ease out of her. She whimpered and tried to thrust herself back on him, but he controlled her easily. He wanted to watch while he eased out of her slick cunt, to see her moisture glistening on his skin, to watch with amazed hunger as he sank back inside, disappearing into her inviting depths.

He could feel the tension building along his spine, feel the urge to move faster, to pound her hard in a headlong race toward orgasm, but he beat it back. It felt too good to be inside her. He didn’t want it to end.

“Damn it!” The blankets beneath her muffled her voice, but he could hear the urgency in it and his mouth curved in a tight smile. “God, Luc, what are you doing? Why—ah!—why are you taking so…so long?

Just—ah!—just…damn it, just
fuck
me!”

He leaned forward, curving his body along her back until his mouth brushed her ear. “But that’s what I’m doing,” he purred on a long, slow, outward stroke.

“Not…fast…enough.”

He thrust in, sliding endlessly, reversed, easing out for aching minutes. “Fast,” in for the space of ten heartbeats, “is,” out ten more, “overrated.”

She screamed into the mattress and began to struggle. She fought to spread her legs, to get her knees under herself for leverage, but he held her thighs snugly between his own. She braced her palms against the bed, but he put his over them, laced their fingers together and stretched her arms high above her head. She was moaning endlessly now, pinned beneath the weight of his body, unable to move, unable to do anything but allow him to stroke slowly and deliberately into and out of her helpless body. He felt like a god.