Hard as a Rock (2 page)

“Come in, sit down. Did our little friend wake up at all?”

I kept my voice level and calm. The last thing anyone wants is a skittish gargoyle in their

apartment. Especially when they have a tendency to hulk out and stampede to the nearest exit,

regardless of any furniture in their way. One early job I’d arranged was for an eminent businessman’s

daughter. With previous death threats and kidnap attempts, we’d pulled out all the stops. The family

dog was a were, the butler a vamp and we’d put our newest gargoyle recruit on watch outside the girl’s

bedroom window. The place was locked up six ways to Sunday.

What we hadn’t accounted for was the fact the kid was fascinated by the “stone man”. From

what we gathered after the event, she’d invited (read, ordered, in that way only five-year-old girls can)

him in for a tea party. Unfortunately, the TV had been on in the background and our gargoyle had been

subjected to an episode of Barney the Dinosaur without any of the necessary training. We found him

three  blocks away with the kids pink bed frame around his neck. Poor thing is a prison guard now and

won’t go near children.

Cal shook his head and gingerly sat on the edge of the sofa. When it didn’t collapse under him,

he sighed in relief and looked all around the room before finally meeting my gaze. His look was wary, as

though he’d done something wrong.

“Cal. Why were you outside my flat?”

His gaze sidled away as a stripe of red decorated his cheeks. Suspicion welled up inside me. “This

isn’t the first time, either, is it, Cal?”

I took a sip of my drink and let it burn all the way down as I waited for his answer. He studied his

fingernails for a long moment, no doubt worried there was some nasty Kenneth residue left under

there. Gargoyles are cute like that.  If they’re unused to the modern world, they’ll believe anything you

tell them. I just waited and sipped my drink. If you have anything to do with paranormals, you soon

learn patience. And to spot when you’re going to need that stake.

He looked up, his gaze meeting mine again. This time he didn’t look away, his expression bolder,

as though he was filled with a new confidence.

“No, not the first time. Been guarding.” He practically puffed up with pride. “Others said not to,

but you needed me.”

I blinked in surprise. Normally, I don’t give much away, but the last thing I expected was to have

acquired a gargoyle guard, especially as he wasn’t being paid for his time guarding me. I narrowed my

eyes as another thought occurred to me.

“On the ledge?”

I jerked my  thumb toward the window in question. There was only one ledge which ran around

my building big enough to house a gargoyle. The one outside my bedroom. Since I was eight flights up in

a neighborhood of two storey buildings, I had a habit of not wearing very much between bedroom and

bathroom. Color hit my cheeks as if someone had thrown a can of paint over me.

“Pretty. Very pretty,” he rasped, the edge of stone back in his voice as he watched me.

Gargoyles are very good at watching. Obviously, better than I’d thought. The idea should have

freaked me out, but instead, a lazy heat suffused through my body. He’d watched me, and from the

bright look in his eye as he perched on the edge of the sofa, he’d liked what he’d seen.

I put my empty glass on the side table and uncrossed then re-crossed my legs.  I wasn’t going for

a Basic Instinct moment, but from the way his gaze tracked me, he must have seen the film.

“You just like watching?”

My voice had dropped to husky, and instead of the good girl image I worked so hard at

maintaining, I was obviously channeling my inner slut. All I could think about was the fit, ripped body

under that t-shirt, and the whispers from the other girls in the office about how well-
equipped
 
gargoyles

were. A rumor I wanted to check out for myself.

He shook his head, gaze riveted on my feet as I unhooked one sling-back before dangling it on

the end of my toe provocatively. I had no clue why, any other time I’ve tried it, said sling-back usually

lives up to the first part of its name and ends up on the other side of the room.

“What else do you like doing, Cal?”

I’d barely finished the sentence before he moved. Most people think gargoyles are clumsy, slow

creatures. They’d be wrong. Whatever form they’re in, those suckers are
 
fast.
 
Cal was  on me before I

could utter a squeak. One hand on the arm of the chair, the other on the back, he loomed over me.

“Everything.”

His voice was barely human, but that didn’t scare me. In fact, nothing about him did. If he’d

gone to the trouble of guarding me, then the chances of Cal hurting me were that of a snowball in hell.

“Soft smooth skin, silky hair…want to touch it. Want to taste it. Want to taste you.”

Yeah, so his vocabulary tended to disappear under stress, but who cared? I certainly didn’t. Not

when the erotic promise in his eyes had me squirming against the leather and ready to come there and

then.

Boldly I reached out and cupped him. Oh boy, when the girls had said “hard as a rock” they

hadn’t been kidding.

“Show me.”

Cal didn’t need telling twice. At my touch, his eyes darkened from blue to the color of a

midnight sky. He grabbed the back of his shirt between his shoulder blades and yanked the garment off

in a very male way. Then it was my turn to suck in a breath.

He was cut, ripped…whatever you wanted to call it. Cal had some serious muscle definition

going on. Forget the six-pack, he was at least an eight. Hard muscle covered in satin skin I wanted to kiss

and lick all over. Like a cat.

A vicious scar cut across one heavy pectoral muscle. Wincing in sympathy, I reached out to trace

it, but stopped at the last minute. It looked healed to me, but I wasn’t a gargoyle expert. For all I knew

they might not heal and I could be shoving my grubby little fingers into an open wound.

“That looks painful.”

I flicked a glance up to him for permission. Instead, he simply covered my hand with his,

pressing it against his chest. He was warm, like sun-kissed marble, and his skin was softer than I

expected. Actually, I don’t know what I expected. This was all  uncharted territory for me.

“Old hurt. Gone now. That feels good,” he murmured as my hand spread out under his to

explore. Our gazes locked as I traced the heavy muscles with my fingertips, then flicked one flat male

nipple. He bit his lip and shuddered. A shudder of pleasure, if the heat in his eyes were anything to go

by. I flicked it again, then caught it between my fingertips to pinch lightly.

A short gasp escaped his lips and then it was as if the floodgates had been opened. His lips

sought mine, clashing and claiming them with a hard kiss that had me gasping in turn. He didn’t waste

the opportunity, his tongue sliding past my lips to tangle with mine in an erotic dance that had my heart

skittering, then racing to catch up.

God, the man could kiss. With a groan of my own, I wrapped my arms around his neck and

kissed him back. I’d thought gargoyles would be cold, but he wasn’t. His lips were as warm as any human

man’s, the scent and taste of warm musk and pure Cal driving me crazy.

Wriggling closer, I  used my grip around his shoulders to lift myself and press my breasts against

the hard expanse of his chest. Hidden under the prim work shirt and sensible underwear, my nipples

ached. Needing to be touched, kissed, nibbled on. The heat arrowed through my body, straight down to

my pussy. It clenched tightly around nothingness, making me squirm as I thrust my tongue against his,

daring and enticing him in turns.

Cal growled in the back of his throat, sliding his arms under me and lifting me as easily as if I

were a doll. Before I realized what he’d done, he’d turned me sideways on the sofa and settled over me.

“Pretty shirt.” He fingered the buttons over my bust, regret mingled with hot lust on his face.

“Rip it off,” I offered, arching my back. I wanted hi m to tear my clothes off. Liked that animalistic

side of a man…err gargoyle. Gargoyle-man. Whatever. I liked the fact a guy couldn’t wait to get at the

goodies within that he’d destroy the flimsy cloth barrier keeping him from what he wanted. What I

wanted.

His hand clenched and the sound of tearing cloth filled the room. Buttons pinged as they

scattered over the wooden floor. Cool air washed over my breasts as the shirt fell open. His face was

tight as he looked at my tits. My breath came in short pants,  and the full mounds threatened to

overflow their satin confinement.

I’d been meaning to buy new underwear, but I bought expensive lingerie and this was a newish

set. Besides, the illicit little thrill when the upper part of my nipples escaped and rubbed a gainst the

starched cotton of my shirt had sparked many a long lunch. Namely a quick dash home for some

“personal” time with the thick vibrator in my underwear drawer.

“Fuck.”

He was as eloquent as many a man who’d been faced with my ample cleavage. More

rubenesque than a stick insect, I was proud of my curves despite Kenneth’s none too subtle suggestion

about a “reduction”. I’d replied by offering to return the favor. South of the belt.

Feeling bolder than I had for years, I smoothed my hands up the sides of my ribcage, molding my

shape until I reached my breasts. I pushed them together, created a deep cleavage he couldn’t seem to

drag his gaze from and gave him a hot look.

“Like what you see?”

He nodded. Once, twice. Grinning, I hooked a finger under and between my rounded globes.

The clasp gave with a little click. The satin fell away, my breasts unfettered and open to his gaze. The

heat in his eyes intensified as I touched myself, cupping, flicking a finger over my stiff nipples.

“How about you try?”

I hadn’t finished the sentence when he had an arm around and under my waist. Easily

supporting my weight, he pulled me up, my back bowed as he dropped his head. I gasped as he flicked a

tongue over my nipple. Where it had been soft a moment ago as he kissed me, his tongue was harder

and…ridged?

Oh. My. God.

My pussy clenched, heat slipping from it to dampen my panties. He could alter the composition

of his body. Alter his tongue from human to
 
ohmygodI’mgonnacome-tastic.
 
Holy hell, what would that

feel like  when he ate my pussy?

He didn’t give me any quarter. As he nibbled and licked at my nipples, widening his attention to

the soft flesh around them, his other hand got busy at the waistband of my pants. His dexterous fingers

worked at the stubborn bastard of a fastener, but the damn thing wouldn’t give.

“Fuck it, just rip them off. Please.”

I barely recognized my own voice. Breathy, feminine and needy. As if I should have been a

phone sex operator. Hell, I’d do anything if it eased the ache deep down inside. The need to be filled, to

be fucked, overrode all else. Which wasn’t surprising. Kenneth and I had stopped doing the dirty months

before we’d actually split, which meant I hadn’t had a real cock in months and Mr.Buzzy in my drawer