Chapter 18 #2
“Still The Flintstones,” she returned as she shut the door. Then linking her fingers with Hank, they headed to his car.
Neither spoke much on the drive, though he attempted conversation twice. The first time, he said, “Do you want to talk about this?”
“No.”
Then five minutes later, he tried again. “We don’t have to—”
“Yes, we do. It’s the magic, right?” Or the brain tumor.
He looked at her, his gaze serious. “On my side, yes. You’re still free. You can still say no.”
Could she? She didn’t think so. Not with this need clawing inside her. Her face must have said as much because he shook his head.
“You aren’t magical,” he said firmly. “You don’t have to feel this way.”
“But I do feel like this.”
His expression tightened. For a moment she thought she saw joy, fierce and powerful. But a second later it was locked down and hidden away. A statue of Buddha had more expression than he did. And then he asked one last question.
“What if…” He halted as he turned a corner. “What about the baby?”
Not a baby. He’d said the baby as if a child was a foregone conclusion if they did this.
She closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the seat.
The idea of carrying his child thrilled her.
And that confused her. In her mind’s eye, she was looking at a serious little boy or a giggling little girl.
One would play with a chemistry set, another would tear after a soccer ball.
And she had no idea which child would do what.
She thought of holidays and birthday parties.
Of baby snuggles and that moment when Hank brought home a puppy.
All those scenes flashed through her head and she wanted it. Oh God, how she wanted it.
But she couldn’t say that aloud. She was a career girl.
She’s spent most of her life in study just so she could have this job with the CDC ferreting out the secrets of stubborn viruses and deadly fungi.
Bacteria were almost boring because she understood them so well, but there were always more mysteries to solve, more contagions to conquer.
She loved her job with an all-consuming passion.
Except for right now when the passion was completely focused on him.
“You sure I’m not magical?” she said. It certainly felt like she’d been taken over by something.
He shrugged. “Not in the way I am.” Then he repeated his words loudly. Firmly. “You are not bound by this.”
Yeah, she was. She already felt the link between them. Solid chains that heated her blood and made her womb ache to be filled.
“I want this,” she said firmly. Not just the sex, but the whole thing.
Husband, kids, white picket fence—whole shebang.
She just hadn’t expected it to happen this fast and with a man she’d only met yesterday.
Brain tumor or magic didn’t matter. She wanted him, so she pointed to the extended stay hotel parking lot.
“Turn here. My room’s in the back.” She had a kitchen, a desk/sitting area, and a very large bed.
He didn’t say anything more as he parked.
She hopped out immediately, her keycard in hand.
She was inside in a moment, already stripping out of her clothes.
He followed a step behind, quietly shutting the door as he watched her toss aside tunic, bra, leggings, and panties.
She was naked beside her bed within seconds, and it felt so good.
Then she turned to wait for him.
He stood there at the door. He hadn’t moved and yet she thought she could hear his heart racing and his breath short and quick.
She could see the bulge in his jeans and knew how very large and hot his penis was.
There were things she wanted to do to him, but it all culminated with him inside her.
With the pounding release and the grasping pull of her womb as she took his seed inside.
“We do this,” he finally said, “we do it my way.”
“Any way. I don’t care.”
“I do. You do whatever I say or I leave right now.”
She tilted her head. “Could you? Leave, I mean.”
He didn’t answer for a long moment, and then he shrugged. “I could try.”
He could, and she would let him. But they both knew where they would end up. Right back here on her bed or on the floor or wherever they landed with him inside her.
And then, to her absolute joy, he stripped off his tee.
Dark glorious muscles revealed to her hungry gaze. Broad shoulders, perfect flesh. Except for the scar on his face, there were no flaws. Not even a mole. Probably a benefit of being a shifter, she realized. Then he toed off his shoes and pushed down his jeans.
His penis sprang free, large and proud, and though she’d seen it before, she again marveled at his size. He was a big man everywhere, and her body was only average. But even as she had the thought, she knew they would fit. At this moment, she believed even her bones would adjust to accommodate him.
“Lie back,” he commanded.
She did. It took her a moment to scurry backward on the bed, but pretty soon she lay dead center, her hands spread at her sides, and her legs softening open though her knees still touched.
He prowled closer to the bed. No other word for it, especially since she’d only flipped on the far light.
That put him in silhouette as his dark form slipped through the shadows toward her and the bed.
Her heartbeat sped up and her mouth went dry. Wild thoughts ran through her head of what he could do to her. God, she’d only known the man for a day and here she was willing to let him do…what? Whips? Chains? Would she even say no?
And then she stopped thinking as he made it to the edge of the bed.
She opened her mouth to speak. His name.
A question. Hell, she didn’t know what. But the tension in her body was growing unbearable.
She wasn’t used to being on display like this, and though his gaze was more than complimentary, it still made her feel self-conscious.
But when she opened her mouth, he made a swift sound of denial. Half bark, half growl—it silenced her before she’d even found her voice.
“I’m going to go slow, Cecilia. Very slow. The only word you can say is, ‘no.’ Do you understand? It’s the only thing that will get through.”
She nodded, too mesmerized by his intensity to risk anything else. He was still prowling, his motions steady as he seemed to stalk her. First one side of the bed, then sliding around the base to crawl up by her feet.
She heard him inhale, long and deep. Then he released a kind of purr from the back of his throat. Appreciation, and she flushed at the sound.
He moved up the bed on all fours, his powerful arms outlined by the light. He set his mouth to just above her left ankle, skating his teeth across her skin enough to make her shiver. Her legs loosened then, slipping even farther apart.
He scooped an arm under her left knee, drawing it up as he kissed up the side of her leg. Lips, tongue, teeth. He moved up her leg, thrusting his tongue in the crook made by the bend of her knee, and then drawing her leg wide as he kissed the inside of her thigh.
She tried to draw him higher on her body. She crooked her foot behind his back and pulled, but he went at his own pace. Slow, steady, and inevitable. She was dripping by the time he made it to her groin.
This close, she could see the tension in his body.
There was sweat on his forehead and a trembling restraint in his movements.
And yet, he still worked her body as if he were helping with a leisurely bath.
A squeeze on her thigh, followed by a lick and a kiss.
Every inch of her leg was held or caressed.
And when he had adjusted her left leg to where he wanted it, he moved back down to her right knee.
At least he didn’t start back at her ankle. Was it possible to orgasm just from a tiny bite on her kneecap?
He pressed his nose to her inner right thigh while his hand stroked up to the crease between leg and groin. He kneaded her there, dipped his fingers into her moisture, and thrust two fingers inside.
She arched up with a cry. Finally, penetration. Not the kind she wanted, but her body didn’t care. She gripped his fingers and squeezed her legs around him until she grew weak with the effort. It didn’t move him an inch, though he did continue to scrape teeth and tongue along her inner thigh.
He kept pumping into her. Two fingers. Three. He did it casually, as if he barely noticed the rhythm he set inside her while his mouth tasted her thigh.
His mouth was so close that he had to adjust his position. Her legs were fully spread, blocked open by his broad shoulders. His fingers were large and callused as they thrust inside one last time before pulling out to play in her curls.
She should have felt embarrassed. Hell, she did feel embarrassed by her own lack of shame. But the need was too strong and she was without words to cry out, so she did everything she could to encourage him silently with her body.
He found her clit. His thumb rolled over it while she bucked beneath him.
Orgasm hit like a freight train, speeding through her mind and body as it obliterated everything. But when it eased, she realized he hadn’t moved. He was poised above her, apparently ready for when the first rush passed.
She lifted her head an inch to see him better. It was all the strength she had. She met his gaze and saw a dark triumph there. Joy at her orgasm. Pride that he had given it to her. Then he ducked his head and put his tongue to her clit.
Another contraction hit, fast and hard. Her belly pulled with the force of it, and she cried out in shock. He eased off her for a second, maybe two, then he returned. His tongue was thick and sweet where she was most sensitive.