Magic's Song
Authors: Genia Avers
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Contemporary Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #musician, #magic
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Magic’s Song
by
Genia Avers
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Magic’s Song
COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Sugenia Robin Weaver
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Champagne Rose Edition, 2014
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-248-6
Published in the United States of America
Praise for Genia Avers
Winner of the 2010 Daphne du Maurier Contest
for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense
~*~
Winner — Indiana Golden Opportunity Contest
~*~
Winner — Southern Heat Contest
Dedication
For Cami
I couldn’t have survived the past year without you.
A special thanks to my fabulous critique partners,
Ashantay and Linda;
to my terrific editor Johanna,
and to my cover artist, Debbie.
Chapter One
As Tanith headed for the door, she saw him.
Him.
Smoke filled the room and the music vibrated with a tantalizing rhythm—raw and sensual. The instant attraction made her hands tremble and the shakiness expanded to the rest of her body. She felt afraid, but something stronger than fear kept her gaze on the man—the man who would be her lover.
He raised his head and looked directly at her, sending bolts of energy through her body. She’d never seen the man before, but an intimate familiarity beckoned, as though he commanded without speaking. She didn’t know him, but her soul knew his dark, shiny hair and the strong sensual mouth that parted to reveal dazzlingly white teeth when he smiled at her.
A clash of drums made her jump. How appropriate. The music heralded the chemistry dancing between them. It had been too long since she’d been with a man, but never in her entire life had she felt inflamed by a guy when he simply blinked his eyes.
He walked toward her, stopping mere inches from her. His unique scent of spice and man spurred her body into full arousal. Neither spoke as he took her hand, the gesture possessive. Bringing the palm to his mouth, his tongue flicked across the sensitized skin.
Tanith’s knees buckled. The man grabbed her elbow to steady her.
“I must be dreaming,” she whispered.
“Shh.” He made no introduction. Instead of speaking, his gaze bore into her, questioning.
When Tanith didn’t withdraw from his silent challenge, the man tugged on her hand and led her into a dark room.
“How do you know about this place?” She couldn’t see much, but the room looked like an office. How many women had he lured into the tiny space?
He kicked the door shut with a jean-clad leg. Before the slam echoed, he captured her mouth with his. A large hand started a feathery trek from her cheek to her neck. As his tongue flicked deeper into her throat, the man’s hands went lower.
What am I doing?
The man was exactly what she’d wished for when she’d
placed her hand on the dusty old volume in Nana’s attic. As a kid, she’d believed the book held magical powers, but as an adult—d
id she seriously expect a stack of bound paper to send her a lover? No way.
Whether the book had sent him or not, she didn’t have sex with men she didn’t know. “I really have to go.”
Tanith’s misgivings vanished as he found a nipple. Some part of her brain registered her behavior as wanton, but the bond linking them hypnotized her, making her compliant.
The touching continued, growing more intimate—far too intimate. She knew she shouldn’t tolerate the stranger’s invasion of her body, but felt powerless to stop him.
Correction. She didn’t want to stop him.
Surrendering completely, she let pleasure push reality from her mind. The sound of popping buttons brought her back to the brink of sanity. He studied her face as he removed his shirt.
She pushed back, ready to flee, but he grabbed her arm.
“Don’t go.”
Walking away was the only logical course of action. She’d just met the man. “I have to.”
Tanith might have made her escape if she hadn’t looked at his bare chest—a work of ripped perfection expanding into broad shoulders and flexing biceps.
When she didn’t move, the man removed her sweater, growling when the neckband caught on her hair. She sensed the effort required to patiently remove the garment. Successful, he pulled back to let his gaze rake over her nakedness. She tried to still her trembling, tried to steady the tortured breaths rattling from her lungs, but failed. Her breasts rose and fell in a ritualistic dance that craved his touch.
“Beautiful.”
She swallowed, unable to talk because words wouldn’t form. Instead, she let her body speak for her, using the universal language of lust.
Moving closer, she ran a finger over his lips, yearning for the feel of them on her body. In unspoken response, he grabbed her hand and pressed his pelvis against her. He’d just won the war.
She placed her palm against his chest. The wide, sculpted expanse of his skin fascinated, intrigued. Tanith let her fingers explore, feeling uncharacteristically shy and uncommonly aroused. He took her hand and moved it lower. His need, large and urgent, pressed against her.
Her hunk licked her neck. The music drifting into the room floated to the back of her consciousness. His tongue distracted her, but still she registered his struggle with her zipper. After a couple seconds, he managed to jerk her pants down to her knees.
He held her gaze with his dark green eyes for a second, then his jade pupils disappeared beneath dark lashes.
He held out his hand. “Step out of your jeans.”
“Don’t you think you should tell me your name first?”
The man just smiled. He applied gentle pressure to her stomach. The touch lulled her and she complied.
While she swayed back and forth, he pulled her forward and pushed his hand into her panties. Tanith gasped, but didn’t move. He focused his stare directly at her as his finger zeroed in on her magic spot.
He silenced her squeak with another kiss. His mouth lingered, toying with her, as his hands moved slow, then fast.
She was wet, so wet. He pushed a finger into her and her body tensed.
He repeated the process: toy fast, toy slow, insert.
The intensity inflated, the helium of lust taking her higher and higher. One minute she wanted him to linger, the next she yearned for him to move faster. Unable to control her reactions, she bucked against his hand.
“Please,” she begged.
Minutes seemed like hours as he removed his hands from her body to unzip his jeans. She watched, mesmerized as he encased his long rod in a condom.
He tugged at her panties, his fingers not seeming as deft as before.
“Too slow.” She ran her fingers beneath the waistband and shoved the garment to her ankles, leaving the silk on the floor after she stepped out of them.
The stranger-who-was-not-a-stranger swallowed, his eyes never leaving her pelvis. She lifted his chin, forcing him to look at her face.
He growled. Lifting her onto the edge of a desk, he kissed her again, running his tongue deep into her throat. With no prelude he shoved into her wet center, hard like a battering ram.
“Ah…ah.”
Her tender opening resisted his first thrust, but her moisture lubricated his largeness. When he thrust again, he slid in easily. His rod felt like velvet.
“Oh, God.”
“I’m just a man, but you are a goddess.”
The huskiness of his whispered words pushed her over the edge. Another thrust and another burst of wetness rippled through her. He repeated the pattern of withdrawal and thrust with increasing speed.
Tanith leaned back on her elbows, savoring every moment of the ride. She’d never imaged sex could be so good. She arched her back as his full maleness sent waves of ecstasy through her starved body. He spread her legs wider, demanding more.
He seemed to touch her heart with the length of him. She felt immoral for craving the raw sexuality of a stranger, but loved every spicy second.
The mysterious hunk closed his eyes, lost in his own lust and oblivious to her pleasure. Tanith didn’t care. He was giving her what she needed. And more.
He plunged into her, over and over, his need so strong it threatened to overwhelm them both. He was her stallion and rode her with a single purpose—conquest.
He took one of his hands from her legs and used it to massage her breasts. She bit on her fist to keep from screaming.
He didn’t slow his pace, he continued to pound into her. She could only hang onto the beast and the magnificent ride he offered. Pleasure increased until a burst of stars flashed through her awareness. Her orgasm slammed through her. Every wave of the explosion threatened to abduct her consciousness.
She screamed, not caring who heard. Her audio unleashed his restraint and the man drove into her—long and hard, maintaining an insane pace.
Tanith continued to explode in Technicolor. The spasms carried her beyond reason. Psychedelic streams of light flicked in her mind as the wave of another powerful orgasm washed over her.
He didn’t stop. Hedonism combined with her over-sensitized parts and grew too intense.
“Stop. You must stop,” she begged, fearing she would faint.
He continued to pump, kept pummeling her with pleasure. “More…I need more,” he muttered.
Just when the blackness threatened to take her from the ecstasy, her lover howled. With one last push, he shoved deeper into her.
He cried out when he came. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
****
Tanith awoke, choking. She gasped for air, feeling more than a little frightened at the intensity of her orgasm. A dream like that couldn’t be normal.
A glance at her red lace panties confirmed her suspicions—soaked.
No surprise there. Seeing the garment still wrapped around her hips did surprise her. Stepping out of her underwear to wrap her legs around the dream man had felt so real.
The blush covering her body registered only a shade lighter than her lingerie. “Figures.”
The best sex she’d ever experienced occurred in a dream—how lame was that? Worse, the encounter had been totally about lust. Neither she nor her sleep-conjured lover had cared about the other.
The one-nighters in her past equated to a higher number than she cared to remember, but even those had been infused with some sensitivity. Her partners
had
at least, been concerned about her enjoyment of the act. In turn, she’d been
too
concerned about those men, all too often faking her enjoyment.
Tanith winced as she put her feet on the floor. How could a dream make her sore? A myriad of emotions dueled in her head, but she pushed them aside to enjoy the sensation. Sated.
Leaning forward, she paused to let her heartbeat slow. Crouched, it hit her like a fist in her ribs.
That damn book
.
She’d wished for a lover and she’d gotten a lover. Hadn’t she learned anything? Specificity was crucial.
Why didn’t I wish for a real lover?
Correction. Why had she wished at all? The first time she’d opened the book, her parents had died.
She’d been nine when she made that first wish, quite by accident. She and her three cousins had been playing in Nana’s attic on a rainy Saturday. Eddie, the oldest and the bully, shoved her, making her trip and stumble. She’d grabbed the edge of an old curio to steady herself, but the cabinet tottered and a big book dislodged, barely missing her head when the volume plummeted to the floor with a thud.
A thousand dust particles leapt into the air and danced like crystal stars. Tanith resisted the urge to run away and bent over to examine the mysterious book. The voice that came from her mouth as she read the title didn’t sound like her own. “The Magic of Life.”