His dick hardened further at the taste of her, making Aidan's jeans painfully tight. Connor reached down and freed himself, hissing with relief as the pressure lessened and the open air cooled him enough to take him down a notch.
"Lower," he rasped, tugging her thighs.
Stacey blinked at the golden god sprawled between her obscenely widespread legs and felt the slickness of her lust coating her inner thighs.
She'd never been so aroused. He was all over her.
Devouring her. Just as she had suspected he would be.
There she'd been, pulling the finished pie out of the oven, imagining what it would be like if they were dating. Imagining what it would be like if this were the beginning and not the end. From the way he was always touching her and teasing her, she guessed he would be the kind of man who would fuck her on the kitchen table because he couldn't wait to get to the bedroom. She pictured him coming up behind her while she worked at the sink, pushing down her shorts, then pushing his cock into her.
He was a primitive, highly sexual male. And she wanted him. Never in all of her years had she met a man such as him. What if she never did again?
Balls-to-the-wall sex. Nothing-held-back sex. No-holds-barred sex. She'd only had sex like that once in her life. Last night. With Connor.
And it had been phenomenal. Would she be kicking herself later for not enjoying more when she had the chance?
In that moment, with a bubbling apple pie in her gloved hands, Stacey had decided that she was a big girl and she could take it. There were worse things in the world than having a two-night stand with a guy you liked and who liked you back.
"Come down," he repeated, pulling at her, his lips parted and glistening, his gaze dark and hungry.
"Sit on my face so I can fuck my tongue deep into you."
Stacey shuddered violently. He was the type of man who enjoyed going down on a woman.
Would enjoy driving her crazy and owning her in such a highly personal way. Branding her, making her his.
Today, she wanted to be his.
Clutching the back of the sofa for balance, she came down, biting back the sounds that would have escaped as his hot breath gusted across her wet skin.
"Yes," he purred, his large hands holding the cheeks of her ass and urging her into him. He started licking her, long slow licks, dipping into each groove and crevice, breathing harshly against her. He teased her clit, fluttering feather-light and hummingbird-quick across it.
"Right there," she whispered, rocking into the maddening motion. A firm lick would set her off and she tried to catch it, swiveling her hips, chasing his tongue. Knowing damn well what she needed, Connor moved away from the tiny protrusion, tilted his head, and thrust into her.
"Ah, god!" She was shaking, her fingers white with the strain of gripping the couch back.
Connor growled and pulled her closer, holding her hips and grinding her pussy into his mouth, his tongue fucking fast and deep. Seductive sucking noises filled the air as he drank her down with rough, hungry groans.
The resulting orgasm was devastating, her eyes squeezing shut, her teeth grinding together. Her silence seemed to incite his ardor further. He lifted her and rolled to the side, setting her bottom on the wooden coffee table before looming over her. His lips at her ear, his left hand at her hip, his right dipping between them to position himself at her opening. He lunged hard and deep, pinning her to the surface with the burning length of his thick cock.
She cried out in startled pleasure, her breath caught and held as he thrust one hand into her hair and pulled her head back. He mantled her with his big, hard body. Dominated her. Owned her inside and out. Even his breath was hers. She couldn't breathe without inhaling his exhale.
"Mine," he rumbled, his hand at her hip pulling her hard into him, until there was nothing separating them. He flexed powerfully inside her, as if to say, I am in you. A part of you.
The sensation caught the tail end of her orgasm and caused her to clench tighter around him, reigniting the fading convulsions of her climax.
He groaned as she rippled up and down the length of his cock, his sweat-slick forehead pressing tightly to hers. "You were made for me."
The fit was perfect, if a little snug. Prior to meeting Connor she could have sworn she couldn't take a cock that big. But he made her so damn hot and wet. She rotated her hips in a tentative circle, just to get the full effect of his size.
"Oh!" she gasped, as everything tightened up, ready for more.
"Yes," he crooned, his lean hips grinding right back, restlessly, near mindlessly, his heavy balls resting against the seam of her buttocks. "So good… so fucking good…"
Her arms were behind her, palms flat on the coffee table, propping her up. "Fuck me," she begged, rolling her hips into him, feeling every bit like a desirable passionate woman. Something she hadn't felt like in far too long.
"I am fucking you, sweetheart." He rose slightly, giving her an eyeful of taut, sweat-sheened abs and revealing the fact that he was still wearing his jeans and boots. That made Stacey even hotter, the look he wore of a man who couldn't bother with getting undressed because he wanted her too badly to spare the time.
It was then that she spotted the strip of condoms on the couch. She glanced down at where they joined with wide eyes. He withdrew then, his cock lined with pulsing veins and shiny from her arousal.
"Condom!" she gasped, as he pushed slowly back inside, raising the temperature of her body enough to make her perspire.
"I'll pull out," he grunted, retreating, then plunging deep again. Harder this time, but not faster.
"… so damn good…"
"Oh god!" Her pussy spasmed in helpless delight.
His cock was beautiful to look at, even better to ride. It filled her so full that she could feel all the nuances of it. The furl on the underside of the wide flared head stroked over a highly sensitive spot and her toes pointed. She didn't want to dull any of it, but—"I-I'm not on the pill."
He didn't miss a beat. What would have been a cold shower for most guys did something else to Connor. He tugged her closer to the edge and gave her two rapid strokes. "I can't get you pregnant and I'm clean."
She whimpered as he picked up the pace, his abdominals clenching and releasing in steady measured rhythm. He leaned over her again, pushing her back, rising above her. She stared up at him, melting beneath the heat of his gaze, enamored with the sight of his gorgeous body straining over and inside hers.
"You're the only one," he said roughly. "It's never been real with anyone else."
Stacey's back bowed upward as his driving lunges pushed her closer to orgasm. Releasing his grip on her hair, he set both hands on the table by her shoulders and shafted her cunt in fierce, relentless drives. "You're the only one," he repeated, his gaze unwavering, open.
With her legs around his hips, she came with a cry, writhing beneath him, her toes curling with the intensity of her pleasure. He drew it out expertly, rubbing the head of his cock over and over that sensitive spot inside her, murmuring praise.
Only when she begged weakly, " … no more …" did he yank free and stand over her, gripping his cock and pumping it with his fist until he groaned and cursed and erupted across her heaving breasts in hot, milky spurts.
It was base and raw. Then he gathered her in his arms and sank with her upon the sofa, and it became beautiful and sweet.
Because his body quivered as hers did and his heart beat with the same desperate rhythm as hers.
With his brogue thick with emotion, he whispered her name. Stacey held on tight and fell head over heels.
Chapter 10
"They have the trinity."
Michael frowned and sank onto the stone bench beneath the tree in the Elite Academy courtyard.
"That is unfortunate."
Elder Rachel paced as was her wont when agitated. Even in the dream state, the woman was too high strung, yet she remained focused on whatever task was at hand. It was a potent combination—the physical restlessness blended with mental steadfastness.
"It was the damn red hair," she said crossly. "The minions grow unruly and uncooperative within days. Even with the mental chip, they become impossible to control."
"Discard them when they lose their usefulness."
"I know what to do, Elder Sheron. However, one of them dug into their own skull and pulled the chip out. We must assume that the others are capable of such self-infliction."
He knew that, of course. He knew everything stored in her wily brain because he was inside it and because they had colluded for centuries. But he let her talk it out. She hated having him in her mind, so she preferred to act as if he wasn't.
"Leave the completely feral ones to Captains Cross and Bruce," he murmured. "It will keep them busy and you have more important matters to attend to. We need the trinity. You should not have entrusted its retrieval to a minion."
"I had no choice. I had to return to the Twilight for your audience with the Elders. Now that I have
'volunteered' to travel to the mortal plane, we have much greater freedom of movement. I no longer have to pretend to be here when I am actually there."
She spun about, causing her long dark tresses to whip over her shoulder. Michael admired her even as he despised her.
"I cannot trust half the men I took with me," she complained, "because their loyalty is not with you and me, but with the Elder Collective. The minions are wild, but the chip keeps them loyal…
at least until the Nightmares completely destroy their minds."
Michael brushed a stray leaf off the cuff of his wide sleeve and looked around them, studying Rachel's dream version of the Elite Academy. It had not aged in her mind, retaining the appearance it once possessed when she was a student there. The center courtyard where they met was circular, lined with gravel, and shaded by immense trees. Surrounding the hub were various open-air amphitheatres where combat training took place and in the large building to the south, classrooms were in session.
"It is time to move to the next stage," he said finally.
