Magic at Midnight (19 page)

“Sent her home, too. I didn’t want her; I wanted you. As you might have guessed, I used her to get your attention.”

“Well, you got it,” she grumbled, then cringed at the admission.

“I noticed you the first day I moved into town, you know,” he said.

He’d noticed her? In a good way? She shivered, feeling as if his hands were already on her, caressing, stoking her desire.

“Cold?” he asked.

She nodded, because she didn’t want to admit his words had ignited a storm of desire inside her.

He rose, grabbed the black silk comforter, and tugged it over her. The material was cool against her skin, but damn it, it didn’t dampen her need. No, it increased it. Every nerve ending she possessed cried for him.

Falon placed a soft kiss on her lips. Automatically she opened her mouth to take it deeper. He pulled away.

A moan slipped from her.

“Soon,” he said as he reclaimed his seat. His voice was tense. “Now, back to the first time I saw you. You were outside with your sisters and selling your potions. At the time, I didn’t know they were potions. I just saw a beautiful woman with rosy skin and hair like flame.”

She gulped, couldn’t speak.

“I wanted you so badly.” As he spoke, his fingertip caressed her thigh. “I was making my way toward you when I heard the words ‘potion’ and ‘witch,’ and then I couldn’t get away from you fast enough.”

Maybe he
was
telling the truth about his desire for her. Maybe he did like her just the way she was. Maybe…

“I never tortured anyone until I met you,” she admitted softly.

His head tilted to the side, and he studied her intently, violet eyes blazing. “Why me?”

“Because,” was all she said.

“Glory.”

Just tell him.
She sighed. “Because I wanted you, and I knew I couldn’t have you.”

“You wanted me?” he asked huskily.

“You know I did.” She watched him from the corner of her eye. He leaned back and stretched his legs out and up, the robe falling away and revealing his strong calves. There were calluses on the bottoms of his feet, as if he often ran through the forest without shoes on. Made her wonder if he wore any clothes at all. Her stomach quivered with the thought.

“Tell me about the first time you noticed me. Please.”

Like she could deny him anything now. She thought back to that fateful day, and the quiver in her stomach became a needy ache. Well, another needy ache. She was consumed with them. He’d been moving boxes into this very house. She and her sisters had walked here to welcome him to town. When he spotted them, he’d frozen. Introductions had been made, and he’d smiled coolly but politely at Evie and Godiva. Glory, he’d simply nodded at before looking hastily away.

“I thought you were the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. The sun was shining over you lovingly, and you were sweating. Glistening. You’d taken off your shirt, and dirt smudged your chest.”

His lips twitched. “I’ve noticed you have a thing for manly sweat.”

“I do not.”

“You placed me in a gladiator cell straight from battle, woman. You like men who do physical labor. Admit it.”

“So what! There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, there isn’t. It’s cute.” He didn’t give her time to respond. “So why did you want to place me in chains tonight?”

She fought for breath. “You know why.”

“Tell me. Say the words aloud.”

“I—I’d decided to be with you. Just once. You know, to purge myself of you like you suggested before.”

“And you thought you needed chains for that?”

“No. I just… I wanted to be in control of everything.”

“I don’t think so,” he said with a shake of his head. “In the forest, you almost came when I pinned your wrists over your head and took control
away
from you. Right now, your nipples are hard, and your skin is besieged by goose bumps. You like where you are.”

Her mouth dried as the realization settled inside her. He was right. She loved where she was. She loved that he could do anything he wanted with her, and she couldn’t stop him. Didn’t want to stop him.

Would one night be enough? She couldn’t possibly learn all there was to know about his body, his pleasure… her own.

Oh, damn. Already she was doing what she’d sworn she wouldn’t: falling deeper, wanting more. Fear dug sharp claws inside her. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” she said, squirming. “Maybe we should stop here and now and part. As friends. I won’t hurt you again. You have my word. And you can even keep the pen.”

“Oh, I’m keeping the pen,” he said darkly, “but I’m not letting you go.” He pushed to his feet. He was scowling.

“You’re angry. Why? I’m setting you free from our war.”

“I hate the thought of you walking out of this house—ever—and I don’t understand it.” The robe fell from his shoulders and onto the floor, pooling at his feet. She sucked in a breath and simply drank in his magnificence. He was harder than before, his erection so long it stretched higher than his navel.

He grabbed the pen and notebook and started writing. Before she could ask what he was doing, the chains fell away from her. Tentative, she eased up. But she didn’t leave; she couldn’t make herself, though common sense was screaming that she do so inside her mind. This was what she’d asked for.

“Thank you.”

Fight
for
me
. Wait. What? No.

“Not yet.” He continued writing.

Quick as a snap, her weight returned, her bra and panty set nearly unraveling from the sudden excess. She gasped. Falon finally paused, his electric violet eyes all over her, eating her up.

Never taking his gaze from her, he locked the pen and paper inside a drawer on the nightstand, and then he was on the bed, crawling his way toward her.

•
Eight
•

F
ALON
had never wanted a woman the way he wanted Glory.

What was it about her that kept him coming back for more, despite her origins? Despite her actions and her words? She was exquisite, yes. Lush and soft, panting with arousal. She smelled of jasmine and magic, which was a feast to his senses. She was vulnerable yet courageous, daring and volatile. She had never and would never bow to him. She would fight him if he wronged her and always demand the very best from him.

He liked that. Liked who he was when he was with her. She made him be a better person. Honest and giving. Hopeful. And now that he thought about it, everything she’d done to him with that pen hadn’t been malicious, it had been… foreplay.

His skin was nearly too tight for his bones as he stopped, his palms flattened beside Glory’s knees. “Still want to leave?”

“No,” she said breathlessly. She leaned back, propping her weight on her elbows. The plump mounds of her breasts strained beyond the bra.

“Want me?” He barely managed to work the words past the lump in his throat.

“Yes.” No hesitation. “Maybe I’m crazy, but yes.”

“Good, because I want you. All of you, this time.” Fingers sliding under her knee, he lifted. His lips met the inside of her thigh, the cool stone of his necklace brushing against her, and she gasped.

He kissed again, his tongue stroking closer… closer…

Another gasp from her, followed by a shiver. “Hot,” she said, trembling.

“Good?”

“Very.”

“Hunter told me you write romance novels.”

“Sometimes. Kiss again.”

Grinning, he obeyed, running his tongue to the edge of her emerald panties.

“Oh, goodness.” She fisted the sheets. He wanted those hands in his hair, holding on, holding forever.

She was perfect for this bed—his bed—he thought, staring down at her. A bright flame against black silk. “Have you ever thought of me when writing a love scene?”

“Yes.” As though she’d read his mind, she gripped his head and pulled him down for another intimate kiss.

His cock throbbed at the thought, at the sight of her, at the taste of her, and he bit the inside of his cheek. Never had a woman appealed to so many of his senses. “What did you fantasize? What did I do to you?”

“Consumed every inch of me,” she said, back arching, silently begging for more.

The best kind of answer.

Then she added, “We have one night together. I want everything I fantasized about.”

One night
. A muscle twitched underneath his eye. He didn’t like the time limitation reminder but let it pass. For now. “Did it turn you on, what you wrote? Did you touch yourself?”

“Yes.” Reaching up, she thrummed her nipples. “Like this.”

“No. Between your legs. Show me.”

She lifted her head, her eyes wide and focused on him. Her hands ceased moving on her breasts. “Wh-what?”

“Show me.” Desperate for another taste of her, he kissed the center of her panties. They were wonderfully damp. He groaned, his mouth watered. “I want to see what
I’ve
been imagining.”

“Oh.” Slowly, so slowly, her hand slid down her stomach. “Like this?”

Licking around the seam of her panties, he fisted his cock. “More.”

Slowly, so slowly, her hand circled the apex of her thighs, teasing. “Better?”

Down, he stroked. Up, squeezing tight. “Not yet.”

He straightened; their gazes met again and held. “How about this?” Her fingers delved under the emerald lace. Her knees fell apart, and her lashes lowered. She cried out, hips undulating.

Shit. She
looked
like magic just then. Magic he craved. Down and up he continued to work himself, the sight of her so erotic he knew it was branded into his mind for eternity.
Touch her. Learn her
. He’d never wanted anything more.

“Stop,” he commanded.

She stilled. Her eyes opened.

He released himself and latched onto her wrist, drawing her hand away from her body. She moaned, bit her bottom lip. “My turn.” Leaning down, he lifted her fingers to his mouth and sucked one, then another inside. Her taste coated his tongue. “Like honey.” And he needed more.

He laved his tongue inside her navel, gripping her panties and urging them from her legs. He thought she must have kicked them aside, because the bed bounced as he straightened.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he said, fingers parting her wet folds. The thin patch of curls shielding her femininity were as bright a red as the hair on her head. Beautiful.

“Do it.
Please
.”

The desperation in her voice mirrored what he felt. He pressed her legs farther apart, spreading… spreading… so pretty. Pink and glistening. He lowered his head and stroked his tongue up the center.

“Falon,” she cried.

He circled her clitoris as he sank a finger deep inside.

Her hands fisted in his hair just as he liked. “More.”

Another finger joined the first, stretching her. All the while, he sucked and nipped at her. Had he ever tasted anyone so sweet? So addicting? Having her once wouldn’t be enough, he realized. He’d need her over and over again. In every way imaginable. He just had to make
her
crave more.

As he licked her, he told her everything he wanted to do to her, how beautiful she was, how he needed her. Soon she was writhing, her head thrashing from side to side. He wanted to see her come. Had to see it, would die if he didn’t. And then she was. Her inner walls clamped down on his tongue as she gasped and cried and even screamed.

He pulled from her, his gaze devouring her. Her eyes were closed, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip. Her skin was flushed. So quickly her chest rose and fell, lifting those rosy nipples like berries offered to a king.

A long while passed before she stilled. When she did, her eyelids cracked open.

He stayed just where he was, kneeling between her legs, cock rising proudly. “Like?”

“Like.” She reached out and circled it with her fingers. “More.”

A moan burst from his lips. “Glory.”

“My turn,” she said, squeezing him tighter. “I want to taste
you
.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to come that way this first time, and if your mouth gets anywhere near my cock, I’ll come.”

She urged him forward, and he was helpless to do anything but follow wherever she led. “I’ll stop before you come.”

He found himself on his side. “No, you won’t.”

She grinned slowly, wickedly and rolled him to his back. Like a sea siren, she rose above him. “Okay, I won’t. But you can try to force me to stop like the he-man you are.”

Oh, the thought of her mouth on his shaft, hot and wet… her hair spilling over his thighs… His head fell back onto the pillow. “All right. But only because you insist.”

She chuckled. “Such a martyr.”

His cock twitched against her leg, her laughter as arousing as her touch.

Now she gasped. “Mmm, what was that for?”

“I like the sound of your laugh,” he admitted. He wanted to hear it. In the morning when he woke up, at lunch, at dinner. Just before bed.

“Sometimes you’re as sweet as candy.” She crawled down his body until her lips were poised over him. Just like he’d feared, his already intense sense of pleasure revved to a new level. “Probably taste like it, too.”

He hoped so. He wanted her to like him, this.

“Tell me what you’ve fantasized about.” Her warm breath stroked him, teased him.

He had to grip the sheets or he would soon be fisting her hair, and then there would be no stopping himself from coming in her mouth. “You. Doing this.”

“What else?” She licked the tip, lapping up the glistening moisture already beaded there. “Mmm.”

Shit.
“Me, inside you.”

Her teeth scraped the head, and he groaned at the delicious sensation. “What else?” she demanded. “Tell the truth, and you’ll be rewarded. Isn’t that how you like to work?”

“Pounding, hot, hard, wild, screaming, you bent over, me taking you from behind. My fingers on your clit, working it. You coming over and over.”

As he spoke, she sucked him down, up, down. Taking him all the way to the back of her throat. He barely managed to get the words out, but he kept talking. Anything to continue that delicious pressure. One of her hands kneaded his balls, the other glided up his chest and flicked his nipple.