Demon Bound (41 page)

Her flavor was sweet, subtle. He wanted to search it out, drink in more. Wanted to push his tongue inside her instead of his fingers.

A groan rose through him when he found her drenched. She tensed, but it was anticipation. No fear. No discomfort. With two fingers, he fucked her slowly, drawing out each easy thrust of his hand, timing it against his tongue.

Within minutes, the familiar trembling began. This time, he didn't change speed or depth.

Her fingernails clawed the sheet, her silk-clad feet slid together frantically. Her knees snapped closed, her thighs clamping his wrist.

He rode with her as she arched and cried out, the sound too guttural to be a scream. Slick muscle clenched around his fingers. She came down, and he licked harder, pushed her up again.

Her breaths were little sobs when she finally lowered her hips. Jake rose up on his knees and lifted her, arranging her skirts as he sat back on his heels. Soft blue light brushed her closed eyelids, sparkled against her lashes. His eyes must be glowing. They flared brightly when he let go, and her weight carried her down over his rigid cock, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his legs.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. Though it almost killed him, he waited, studying the crease in her brow. Was he big enough? She felt so snug, but maybe she needed more. He shifted, just a little, until she was uncomfortably tight around him.

Her eyes opened, shining icy light that stole his breath. A shake of her head and her sound of distress had him quickly shifting back.

He went smaller, and her mouth flattened, her eyes narrowing to frozen slits. Her Gift suddenly crept over him, threatening, hinting at the consequences of remaining that size.

From somewhere downstairs, Nefertari purred.

He laughed silently and regained his shape.

Her lips curved. Her fingers explored his chest, pushed until he had to brace his hands on the mattress behind him. She lowered her head, flicked her tongue over his nipple.

Oh, Jesus. No fucking fair. He hadn't even gotten his mouth on her elbows, let alone her nipples. He bucked beneath her, but instead of glancing up at him so he could give her a warning look, she gasped and closed her eyes. Then rocked, driving him deeper.

Okay, he could live with that response.

He remained still as she rocked, then rolled her hips, then lifted herself up and down. Testing each motion, as if deciding what she liked best.

Jake loved every damn one.

When she began to shake, he only moved to help her keep the same rhythm. Her legs hugged his tighter and tighter, and she rocked fast and hard.

And still lost it.

Her disappointment was not as severe as the first time, but the glow in her eyes faded. Jake levered himself up, held her against him, looking blankly over her shoulder. What was going on? He had no clue.

Except maybe even his hot ass couldn't immediately override one hundred years of conditioning.

He remained inside her as he maneuvered a pillow behind her hips and laid her on her back. She kissed him softly, and only frowned a little in confusion when he withdrew halfway, pushed her legs together.

And with his knees outside hers, he thrust back in.

Her eyes widened, and she choked out his name. Jake froze. Hot damn and holy hell, he hadn't been prepared for that. His body shook with the need to come. Tighter, not because he was stretching her too much but because she was squeezing his length, and so wet and hot that his blood was boiling.

Alice twisted beneath him, her fingers clenching on his ass. Urging him deeper.

He couldn't go as deep as he wanted. But her thighs were together, which was apparently what she needed to come. And they were slick and caressing the base of his shaft with every deliberate stroke; he was rubbing past her clit and still sinking most of the way inside her.

And oh Jesus,
Alice writhed
. Made strange, incoherent chittering noises in her throat that drove him insane. Pain streaked across his back as her nails raked him, breaking his control. He planted his hands next to her shoulders and plunged, fucking her off the pillow, fucking her across smooth blue silk.

He fisted his hands in her hair to anchor her in place, then used his tongue to fuck her mouth, deep strokes that matched the rapid thrust of his cock, that weren't deep enough until she tensed and trembled, screamed into his mouth, her body jerking and twisting.

It still wasn't enough. Jake slowed, and Alice wrapped her arms and legs around him. He pushed in to the hilt, watched her eyes close in almost sleepy pleasure.

She moved with him, held him when he came. Kissed him until his shakes eased.

It had to be some kind of miracle that he was still alive when they did.

He didn't roll off her, but braced himself on his elbows. His hand wasn't steady when he pushed a tangled curl from her forehead. Her stockinged feet slid up and down his thighs.

He couldn't remember when he'd vanished his jeans.

He watched her face. Her soft smile didn't fade as his fingers found the tiny buttons that ran from her shoulder up the side of her neck. Her eyes remained closed, but he could detect a faint glow through her lids.

There were twenty-four, like tiny black pearls. His heart beat a thousand times for each one. He started at her jaw, and waited until he'd unfastened every button before peeling back the triangle of silk.

He pressed his lips to her shoulder. Her collarbone. Her throat. The upper swell of her breast, where the fold of black silk barred him from her nipple.

He didn't care. God, how he loved her. He could die now, and not have a single regret.

He lifted his head. Her eyes were open, watching him.

The feeling swelled, threatened to pop. He was going to kiss her, and probably never stop.

“Jacob,” she said softly.

It exploded inside his chest.

And he jumped.

 

Alice blinked up at the ceiling for several minutes. After several more, she could finally begin to think.

Very possibly, his teleporting was for the best. Soon, he would have had to get up, and what would he have seen? She was in complete disarray. His fault, for stealing her hair ribbon and then tupping her within an inch of her life.

But perhaps her appearance wasn't so terrible. She vanished her dress and stood, dragging one of the sheets up with her. Her full-sized mirror was in her cache; she called it in at the end of the mattress.

Her mouth dropped open when she saw her reflection.

Oh, dear. She did not like using a mirror in Caelum, unless it was in a chamber full of her own things—it was too disconcerting to stand in a marble room and have nothing in the background but the blue sky.

But now, standing on the mattress, draped in sapphire silk, her hair in a wild tangle over her shoulders, she did not look as if she were floating into nothingness.

She looked like a goddess. Aphrodite, rising from the sea.

With a cackle, she vanished the mirror. How very silly she was—her smile was not serene enough for a goddess. Perhaps, though, it was just wickedly pleased enough for a witch.

And she would not have minded at all if Jake had seen her that way. No, her only worry was what he'd have heard if he had stayed.

As it was, she might have already said too much.

CHAPTER 19

His dick was freezing when Jake realized that he'd lied. If he'd died, he
would
have had one regret.

But it was too bad that when he met his daughter, she was taking out the trash, and he'd just landed naked and facedown in the snow. Snow was better than prickly grass, though—and night had fallen, so maybe she hadn't gotten an eyeful of ass.

She was still openmouthed with a trash can lid in one hand and a sack of garbage in the other when he formed jeans and a shirt. He didn't know if getting up would freak her out, so he moved his arms up and down, as if were perfectly normal for a dead man to be making a snow angel in his daughter's backyard.

The bag dropped into the can, and the lid clattered over the top. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her puffy coat, took a step toward him.

God, she was beautiful.

She had her mother's hair. Thick and red, with only a few strands of gray at her temples, and she wore it in a loose ponytail at her nape. Her rounded face was his grandma's, and her eyes were his. Laugh lines had settled around the corners, but hadn't touched her mouth yet.

He frowned and stopped moving his arms when he saw her feet, her pink-painted toenails. She'd come out here in a coat, flannel pajama pants, and
flip-flops
. Jesus Christ.

But he held his tongue.

She didn't. “Are you nuts? Lindsey's going to see you and think she can come out here in her swimsuit.”

Okay, that was fair. He stood, vanished the snow off his chest and legs. “Sorry. I didn't think about that.”

“Well, maybe you should have—” She cut herself off, pressed her fingers to her eyelids. “Oh, Lord.
I'm
sorry. I go into Overprotective Mommy mode when I'm in shock.”

She was? Maybe his own shock was preventing him from feeling it. He pushed his hands into his pockets. “It's fine. I'm actually surprised you aren't thinking that you've gone crazy.”

“I might have if I hadn't sat on the fifty-thousand-dollar chair you left in Lindsey's bedroom. After that, I was ready to believe her when she said you scared away the monsters under her bed. And there are . . . other reasons.” She pushed her coat closed, shivered. Her chin jerked toward the back door. “Do you want to come in? I could use a drink.”

Snow crunched beneath his toes as he followed her to the stairs. He vanished the ice from the steps so she wouldn't slip, then felt like a dick when her surprise made her trip.

He caught her arm, then immediately let her go. “You know, it's probably not a good idea to invite strangers into your house.”

Her snort of laughter was just like Barbara's. He grinned, but it faded with nervousness when she turned, her expression apologetic.

“Look, I should be up front about something. I'm not looking for another dad.”

That hurt—but he was mostly just glad that she
had
a dad. “If we're being up front, I don't think I'd make a good one.”

Not right now. If Khavi's prediction didn't come true, maybe someday—someday far in the future—he'd be ready.

She smiled and unlatched the screen door. “That's not what Mom said.”

 

Her name was Grace. She sat him down at the same table he and Billy Hopewell used to eat cookies and milk on—and when she gave him hot chocolate with marshmallows, he wondered if he should have appeared his age instead of looking like himself.

But she made the same for her own drink, left the room, and came back with a flat box. Several picture frames were piled on top. “Lindsey and Sarah—my daughter-in-law—are already in bed. This is Brandon.” She passed him one of the frames, and Jake looked down at a replica of himself the year before he'd died. The uniform was different, though—Marine Corps. “He was deployed just after Lindsey was born.”

There was a note in her voice that he couldn't ignore. “All right. I can jump over there now and then, see how he's doing.” Probably would anyway, even if he didn't introduce himself. “But I can't . . .” He gritted his teeth, forced himself to say it. “But if it's something
people
are doing to each other, I can't interfere.”

She bit her lip before nodding.

Fuck it. That was the Guardian line. But he had a personal line, too. “But if I was there and something
did
happen that I thought I could stop, I wouldn't just stand by.” Even if it meant he had to Fall for it.

This time, there was a shimmer in her eyes when she nodded. “Thank you.”

“Okay, but listen. The chances of being there at exactly the right time—”

“I know.” Grace pressed her fingers over her eyelids again. “Drink your cocoa while I pretend I'm not crying.”

Oh, man. “Is it good crying or bad crying?”

She looked up, waving her hands in front of her eyes as if to dry them. “Both. I just . . . He's my baby. He never met his dad, either. It was so stupid, a fling, the summer after I graduated, and I was feeling so old, ready for a little excitement before I hit college. And he was the type of guy . . . well, the type of older man who'd always speed up when he was changing lanes, even if no one was letting him in, instead of tapping the brakes and waiting until it was safe to merge. No surprise, he had an accident; I had Brandon. So it was just me and him for a long time, and I get weepy really fast when I realize he's not a baby anymore.”

“Ah,” Jake said. “Now I feel guilty for not being here. I think my granddad had a shotgun made especially for older men like that.”

She snorted out another laugh, and pushed a new picture in front of him. “There's Mom and Dad, on their wedding day. And Dad probably would have taken his shotgun out if he'd known.”

Barbara in white, a young Grace in pink, and—“Billy?”

“Yes. Bill, by then.”

“Hot damn.” Jake grimaced, looked up. “
Darn
.”

She shrugged, but he shook his head.

“No, I knew I'd be running into you sooner or later, so I've been trying to watch my language. I haven't been doing so well.”

Her smile was soft and pretty. “Don't worry about me. Lindsey, though, is another story. She picks up everything.”

“Okay.” Still, he'd do better. And he hoped that meant he would be seeing Lindsey again. He looked down at the picture. “So, Billy Hopewell. He's good people. How old were you, though—ten? He waited long enough.”