Moonshadow by Thea Harrison
Ravenously he nipped and suckled at her skin as he moved down her body, her enticing lower lip, the delicate spot at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, the gorgeous round flesh of her breasts, oh gods, her breasts. He lost himself in teasing her nipples, biting gently at the turgid peaks until she cried out in incoherent pleasure, working her fingers restlessly against his scalp as she held his head to her.
He sucked harder, and she bucked underneath him, pushing off the bed as she arched into his touch. She was so perfectly, exquisitely responsive, the heavy spike of need that dangled between his legs grew even tighter, harder.
“I want to do everything to you, all at once,” he muttered. “I want to stroke you, fuck you, hold you down, lift you up, pin you, take you. I want you to take me. Lord and Lady, Sophie, I don’t know that I have any gentleness in me tonight.”
“You talk awfully sexy in bed.” She twisted to whisper unsteadily in his ear just before she bit his lobe hard enough to send a jolt of sensation all the way down to his cock. “But if you’re wanting to actually communicate something to me, you’re going to have to do it in English.”
Lifting his head, he stared down at her. He hadn’t even realized he had slipped into his native tongue. Running his hand down the slope of her stomach, he stroked along the gentle curve of her pelvis, fingering the black tuft of silken hair at the juncture between her legs.
He’d already forgotten what he had said before.
“I want to fuck you into tomorrow,” he said between his teeth. Probing carefully between her legs, he fingered the soft, delectable folds of flesh that grew slick with the evidence of her desire. “I want to fuck you so hard you can’t walk until next week.”
“Promises,” she gasped on an unsteady laugh.
As he explored her, she opened her legs and her expression twisted in a combination of pleasure and distress, and her breathing came harder and more raggedly. She pushed up with her hips, rubbing herself against his hand, while she raised her head and they both looked down at their bodies.
Their legs lay entwined. His were heavier, corded with muscle and sprinkled with dark hair, while her more delicate bone structure made her legs looked lighter and leaner. His thick, hard erection lay against her hip, the broad mushroom head exposed.
“Mmm,” she said in throaty welcome as she reached for it with both hands. When she touched him, the bolt of pleasure was so sharp he nearly spurted into her palm. She stroked her thumb along the small, sensitive slit at the tip, and in response a drop of moisture appeared. She rubbed it into his skin.
Then in his own exploration of her most sensitive flesh, he found the stiff, delicate little pearl hidden in her private folds, and as he rubbed it, she nearly came off the bed with a strangled scream.
Oh, he loved that. He loved her reaction. Fiercely clamping down on his self-control, he flicked and massaged her clitoris in teasing circles until she gripped his wrist and ripples of reaction shook visibly through her body.
Unable to hold back his own hunger, he bent to fill his mouth again with one of her luscious nipples, and he suckled at her while he flicked at her clit, and the tension in her body grew and grew until a fine sweat broke over her silken skin and she vibrated like the taut string on an archer’s bow.
Give it to me, he said in her head. Come for me.
I-I can’t. She gasped for air and shook harder. I love this, I love how it feels, but I can’t climax like this. Not during our first time together.
What was this? He lifted his head to frown down at her. “What do you mean, you cannot climax like this?”
Lifting one shoulder, she gave him a lopsided smile. “It takes me a while to grow to trust my partner enough to let go. It’s just a thing; it’s not a big deal. It’s just who I am.”
“Well, I do not accept that reasoning,” he growled. “You trust me. You would not be here with me now, unclothed in your bed, if you did not.”
“Well…” Her voice trailed away as she frowned.
She had nothing to say, he knew, because he was right. Stroking his hand down the shapely, slender length of her thigh, he told her, “Relax, my Sophie. Breathe deep. Enjoy yourself, and know that you are safe.”
Safe. Why had he felt the need to say those specific reassuring words to her, when he, of all people, knew just how unsafe they really were? Why was that the only answer to the vulnerability he saw in her eyes?
She resurrected something inside him, the kind of man he used to be, protective of and attentive to those he cared for. He wanted to shelter her, not because she asked for it or because she even needed it, but because he needed to be the one to give it to her.
There was something dangerous in that path of reasoning, some line in himself he had been determined not to cross, but he forgot what it was when she responded, relaxing visibly as he stroked her body in long, soothing sweeps with one hand. He slid down the length of her body, urged her to part her legs again, and when she did so, he settled between them and stroked the tender folds of her skin with a thumb.
Then he split the folds apart to reveal that little, delicate nubbin. She was beautiful there, as she was beautiful everywhere, the fluted folds of her flesh rich with color and her scent, warmth, and wetness. At the sight, he made a quiet sound of pleasure and put his mouth over her clitoris, tasting her private flesh for the first time.
Her thighs shook, and she made a thin, uncertain sound. Shh, he whispered in her head. Relax. Enjoy. You are the most delicious thing I have ever tasted. You’re beautiful. I want to plant myself in you, right here. Fill you up. Fuck you, make love to you, give you pleasure, make you scream.
As he talked to her, he suckled and flicked at her with his tongue, working her with a rhythm, while he slipped a single finger into her tight, wet sheath. She was so warm, so wet, so ready.
Lifting from his task, he told her, “When I was in town, I bought condoms.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You were already planning this?”
There was something complex in her expression, but he did not think it was distaste or dislike. Rather, she seemed to be pleased.
“I wasn’t planning on anything, but I had thoughts,” he said. “And I do not believe in being careless. I may be part Wyr, but I am not Wyr enough to have their ability to prevent pregnancy.”
“Nik, thank you for thinking so responsibly, but I’m part Djinn,” she whispered. “I don’t know how my ancestor managed to participate in a viable pregnancy, but however they did it, I don’t have that ability. I’ve seen more than one doctor to be sure, and they were conclusive. I can’t get pregnant.”
“Sophie,” he murmured. Placing a hand over her flat stomach, he paused to search her face for any sign of pain or sadness.
There was none. Her expression was clear, calm, and open. She smiled at him. “You don’t need to look at me that way,” she told him. “I love children, but I’ve known from an early age, I’m not cut out for motherhood. I’m not even good dog-owner material. Since the Elder Races don’t catch or transmit human diseases, we don’t need to use condoms.”
He smiled. “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves. I’m not finished down here.”
Her breath caught as he turned his attention back to pleasuring her. Nestling his lips against the most sensitive part of her body, he soon found his rhythm again, flicking, nibbling and sucking until soon her hips bucked in response.
“That’s—that’s wonderful, but that’s enough,” she gasped. “It’s too sharp, too intense—”
Is that what happened to you, my Sophie? he purred in her head. Did your other lovers give up on you too soon? Were they greedy boys, focused only on themselves and their own needs without paying any attention to you and yours?
Yes. No. I don’t know! she gasped, her head turning restlessly on the pillow while her body shivered underneath his relentless attentions.
I am no green, foolish youth, he murmured. I know what you need and how to give it to you. Work with me, my Sophie. Don
While he talked, he slipped a second finger, massaging her gently inside. Her pleasure was building higher again. He could feel it in the escalating heat in her body, the tightness of her muscles, the way her hands shook as she stroked his hair. Nothing else existed in the world, just her body, her pleasure, the sound of her ragged breathing, and the exquisite torment on her face.
She began to plead. “Nikolas—Nik—it’s on the other side of this wall, I just don’t know how to get there—”
You don’t have to get anywhere, he whispered. Ease up, my Sophie. Let it come to you. I will bring it to you. I promise. Trust me. And when I bring it to you, I am going to come inside you. I’m so hard and ready for you. My skin burns with it. Feel the heat coming off my skin. I am on fire for you.
She touched his face, and he knew she could feel it. He had never burned so hot for anyone before. She lifted her head to stare at him.
Their eyes met. Nikolas touched the cool, starlit magic in her gaze with the dark blaze in his own. There was some kind of message that passed between them, some kind of truth.
Then her head fell back onto the pillow, and she cried out as she climaxed. He felt it ripple through her inner muscles. Her tiny, delectable clit pulsed. Fierce emotion roared through him.
He had given that to her, no one else, and in giving it, her climax became his. He claimed her pleasure, owned her response in that moment.
Mine, he thought. Mine.
He forced himself to wait, wait, wait, until the rhythm of her pleasure began to subside. Only then did he rise up to cover her body with his and unleash his own need. Kissing her, biting at her mouth, he took his cock and rubbed it against her entrance.
Reaching down between their bodies, she welcomed him and helped to guide him in. Then he slipped in, just the tip, and as he broke through her entrance and felt her body grip his most sensitive place, a groan broke out of him. Unable to move forward, unable to pull away, he froze.
She whispered, “What is it?”
“I’m back in that place again,” he said between his teeth, resting his forehead on hers. “I don’t know if I can be gentle any longer.”
She laughed, and it was a completely joyous sound, as she threw her arms around his neck, her legs around his hips and hugged him with her whole body. Putting her lips to his ear, she gasped, “You need to go, let’s go. Do it, Nikolas, cut loose, I want you to fuck me so hard right now.”
She incited him to riot, and he had no brakes, no barriers left, so riot he did.
The fire in his body took over. He plunged into her, all the way, to the hilt, and she was so hot, so tight, just exactly what he needed, he had to pull out and plunge all the way back in again. She met him thrust for thrust, rocking up with her hips as he hammered down, and it was so damned perfect he didn’t know how he could ever stop. Gripping her by the hip, by the breast, swearing in her ear, he fucked her while the blaze inside him built and built until it peaked in a fiery gush.
His climax roared up the base of his spine. Helpless in the grip of it, he thrust and thrust again with every new spurt. She ran her hands down his back, holding him to her, rocking with him until the rhythmic jerk of his cock began to subside.
Either he was shaking, or she was. His lungs pumped hard like bellows, while she stroked his back, his shoulders, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck until finally his climax began to subside.
For a moment he was gripped with the strangest compulsion. He wasn’t done, he wasn’t done. He needed more, to pin her down and claim her until there was no doubt left anywhere that she was his. His cock still felt hard as a spike and as agonized.
He tensed, frozen on some kind of precipice.
Then, as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, the moment passed. “This was wonderful,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
The words grounded him, not much but just enough. Carefully he backed away from the internal precipice as he withdrew from her even though every muscle in his body screamed at him to stop, change course, claim her until they both knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was his alone.
He paused long enough to kiss her lingeringly on the mouth, down her throat, and finally he pressed his lips against the scar above her left breast, where her heart beat strong and true.
“You are so beautiful,” he told her in a quiet voice. “What a surprise this night has been. You’ve given me more pleasure than I’ve known in years. Good night, my Sophie.”
He shouldn’t say those words. She wasn’t his Sophie. As she had said earlier, they both knew what this was. This was a stolen night of pleasure, nothing more, nothing else. They were little more than strangers, their lives lived on two separate trajectories.
This was not a mating. There would be no claiming her for his own even if she would have welcomed such an outlandish proposition. Yet his Wyr side didn’t understand logic and reason. It pounded through his blood, urging him to take her again, to mate with her.
But Wyr mated for life, and he had no room in his life for that kind of commitment. He had already given his life to his people. The thought of taking a steady lover was laughably inappropriate. The thought of mating, utterly impossible.
He had never been gifted with such an experience. He had never felt such a driving compulsion to mate with anybody before, and he accepted the rare gift for what it was—an arrow through the heart.
As she realized he didn’t intend to stay, the light in her eyes dimmed, and it was another arrow to the heart. She deserved to be held, in that moment more than ever, and she deserved to explore the new realm of pleasure he could give her as he brought her to climax over and over until she fell into exhaustion. Every instinct in his body told him to go take her in his arms and refuse to let that light in her eyes die.
Without another word, he turned his back on those instincts and on her, picked his clothes off the floor, and shut the door on his way out.
* * *
Well, it was a good thing they’d had a clear understanding of what they were getting themselves into when they had sex.
Otherwise, Sophie would be feeling let down and disappointed that Nikolas chose to walk out the door rather than stay and enjoy more time together. If her vision blurred with wetness, it was because she was so tired. It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he chose not only to leave her bedroom but to leave the cottage as well.
Almost as if he couldn’t get away from her fast enough.
As she heard the cottage door close, she rolled over to hug a pillow. Gah, she would never understand men. As far as she was concerned, they’d had a pretty spectacular time. He had been…
He had been so much more than she had expected. So much more considerate, tender, and passionate.
She closed her eyes, but she couldn’t block the images that played through her mind.
His face as he moved inside her, fierce and gentle, determined and sensual. They had barely gotten started, damn it. She had things she wanted to do to him. Really cool, sexy, fun things. She had been hungry to try them, and she was still hungry. But apparently he wasn’t interested enough in exploring anything further with her.
Of course he wasn’t.
He was no longer the asshole she had thought he was. There was something decent, true, and fine in him, and just as she glimpsed it, it moved away.
His scent was still on her skin. She loved his scent. Loved it. She was never going to get to sleep if she kept experiencing his scent, as if he were still with her, while she fantasized about taking his cock into her mouth.
Pushing out of bed, she grabbed a nightshirt and went into the bathroom to take a shower. When she was through and fragrant with her shower soap, she padded into the kitchen to drink the tumbler of wine still left on the counter.
Sipping it
Nikolas had dressed, and he stood with his hands on his hips near one end of the manor house, his back to the cottage as he looked out over the landscape. Instinctively Sophie glanced at the corner of the kitchen where his sword harness had been, but it was missing. She felt better knowing that he was armed even if the cloaking spell prevented her from seeing it on him.
He had so many bad memories wrapped into this place. He had so much history, period. She barely knew him, so why did the sight of him standing alone out in the night tug so hard at her emotions?
She felt a pull to go outside and join him that was so strong she almost gave in to it. But he had been the one to leave her, and with a stinging realization, she knew he would not welcome her presence.
As she finished the wine in the tumbler, the monkey came into the kitchen, jumped onto the counter, and sat looking out the window beside her. She said, “Robin, I wish I knew how to help him.”
The monkey took her hand and patted her fingers.
“I know,” she said. “I’m doing what I can. And he didn’t ask me to do anything more anyway.” Forcing herself to look away from the lone figure outside, she turned her attention to the puck. He seemed bigger, more substantial, and for the first time, she could feel a hint of his Power. Pleased, she said, “You’re getting better.”
He nodded.
“I’m so glad.” Passing a hand gently down the back of his head, she rinsed out her glass and set it in the sink. Then she went to bed.
For the first time, she realized somebody had made the bed, and she knew it hadn’t been her, and she was pretty sure it hadn’t been Nikolas.
She and Nikolas had made love on top of the bedspread. Made love, huh. She meant they’d had (tremendous, mind-blowing, screaming, utterly fantastic, wildly pleasurable) sex, and it had lived up to every single one of those adjectives. Every single one and more.