Immediately, the angel’s hand lifted. “Shh.” She felt him move from where he sat at the foot of the bed. The pain that his touch had abated flooded back in, and with it, panic.
“No!” she begged. “I’m sorry. Don’t leave.” She felt tears course down her cheeks. “Don’t leave.” She opened her eyes to find him beside the bed.
His eyes flooded with agony. “Oh, Temptation.” He moved slowly, sitting by her hip and then laying down next to her. Looking at her carefully, he placed a splayed hand across her stomach. Instantly the pain fled. “I was not going to leave you,” he whispered, his breath caressing her cheek.
The pressure of his hand changed. She followed the urging and turned to her side, facing away from him. She felt him slide in behind her back, not quite touching her, but the heat of his body poured over her. The hand on her stomach brushed a small, soft circle from her rib cage to the cradle of her hips.
“You are not trapped,” he said quietly, right behind her ear. “Your body is your own. We are only giving it back to you.”
Grace realized with a start that he assumed a position that did not have her pinned down. She was on her side. He was barely touching her. Every movement he made was soft and hesitant. His hold light. If she wanted to get away, she could easily slip from beneath his arm, jump over the side of the bed, and run out of the room.
His hand continued that light, circular caress, and Grace felt her fear vanish. He knew of her past, and his actions were the greatest gift he could have given her, speaking of both understanding and a desire to help her through.
Grace felt the tension drain from her body. And the second the last of her fear disappeared, the lust rushed back in. Suddenly, that light, innocent caress over her stomach was anything but light and innocent. It made her
burn
.
All of her longing for the angel on her shoulder, all of the passion she felt for him over the last few days, all of the times she gazed upon his body — it all rushed in at once.
With courage Grace did not know she possessed, her left hand fell from its protective spot over her sex. Her right arm uncoiled from around her breasts and moved downward, coming to rest over the angel’s where it snaked over her side. She placed her hand on top of his, and her body took over. She began to drag the angel’s hand down her stomach and toward the apex of her thighs, her heart thundering in her chest. “T-touch … me?”
She felt his body jolt behind hers. Heard him suck in a breath, the air stirring over her cheek. And then he groaned from deep within his chest, the sound causing the bed beneath them to rumble. He stirred, moving into her back until his chest rested against her shoulder blades. The contact of his smooth, cool robe and the heated muscle it encased against the skin of her back nearly did away with all of her inhibitions.
Him too, apparently, because his hand quickly moved the rest of the distance. The moment his fingertips encountered her curls, his body began to shake.
“Soft,” he whispered into her hair. “So warm.” His fingers moved again, and Grace’s hips flexed on their own, canting forward and causing his middle finger to slip between the folds of her sex.
Her nails dug into the skin of his arm. “
Angel
,” she moaned.
His body went rigid at her back. The small tremble of before grew until he was shaking so hard, the bed began to creak. “Temptation … I want to hold you.” His right arm tightened where it fell over her hip. “May I hold you?”
She felt her head nod frantically.
He sighed with what sounded like relief, and then his left arm gently worked its way under her body until both of his arms were around her. He pulled her back against him, her body lying flush against his. His left arm curled up and around until his hand brushed against her breast. He palmed the aching flesh and squeezed gently. She felt his breath brush against her neck, and then his face buried in the space between her neck and shoulder.
He embraced her, his arms tightening. His lips parting against her skin. “My Temptation,” he breathed. He then held still for a few moments.
Grace realized he was giving her the opportunity to adjust to his new hold on her body. She still did not feel trapped. There was no fear, but there was distress of a different kind. Again, her hips jerked, and again, his finger slid against her slick flesh. “
Yes,
” she moaned as his finger caressed the bud at the top of her sex. She moved her hips again, needed the movement to be repeated. When she moved them the third time, his finger moved as well, sweeping down to meet her frantic thrust.
With a cry, she arched her body against him. Her ass came into contact with his firm, hard shaft, and for a moment she froze. She felt the angel hold his breath, and then she ground her ass against him, wrenching a sudden, shocked noise from the angel.
“
Human
,” he groaned. And then he seemed to snap.
His arms, though still gentle, tightened. He pulled her hips firmly into his erection, and his fingers slid deeper into the space between her thighs. She moaned as he circled the area over and over that he had already discovered was her most sensitive, but she wished for more. She flexed her hips forward, desperately hoping he would take the hint and trail that talented finger lower. He only held her tighter; moved the finger faster. Before madness could take her over, she covered his hand with hers once again, and moved it slightly to the place where she ached for him the most.
His powerful body, already strung so tightly behind her, stiffened even more. She could feel his heartbeat pounding between her shoulder blades. And then, after only a slight hesitation, he slid his middle finger inside of her body.
A sound close to a sob tore up through Grace’s chest, and the angel made a noise halfway between despair and paradise. He cupped her fully, his thick finger filling her, and she tried to cry out from the pleasure before she burst, but it was so intense she couldn’t gain her breath. He ground the heel of his hand against the spot he could no longer stroke and began to thrust his finger in and out of her body as he began to rock his hips into her, his shaft grinding into the small of her back.
He began to mumble a stream of incoherent words into the moist flesh between her neck and shoulder, and Grace caught random words here and there:
beautiful, Temptation, control, need.
The desire in his voice drove Grace to the edge. A tight spring was wound within her belly and getting tighter with each one of the movements his hand made. His hand squeezed her breast again, and then she felt his teeth scrape her shoulder. “Angel!” she cried as the tension within her snapped. Her body bowed and shook as her passion overtook her. She felt her sheath clamp down on his finger over and over again. His groan was one of utter pain as he froze and pulled her in tightly.
The waves of her orgasm began to abate, and Grace could breathe again. The angel still had not moved. His hand remained frozen between her legs. In fact, the only indication that he was alive was his harried breathing, and the small, distressed moan he gave at the end of every exhalation.
For the first time in days, Grace’s body was at peace. No — it was better. She had no idea her body could feel those things.
Do
those things. She turned her head to look at him. He withdrew his face from the crook of her neck and met her eyes.
Grace gasped. His honey-green eyes were …
glowing
. That was the only way she could think to describe them. And abject misery covered his face.
Those eyes traveled down from hers to her lips. He stared hard, and then he licked his bottom lip and began to lower his head.
Grace sighed and licked her own lips as she began to close her eyes. Anticipation boiled through her. She could swear his lips would be the most wonderful she ever touched —
He jerked.
Grace’s eyes popped open when, with a violent growl, the angel whipped his hand away from her sex and leapt from the bed.
He stood a few feet from her, his chest billowing, and stared in disbelief at his glistening fingers. His eyes flew to hers once again, and she read such need, such emotion. And then, without another word, the angel turned from her and sprinted toward the door, flinging it open and disappearing into the hall.
The Compulsion hammered within Jayden’s brain. It was hungry — so hungry — for completion.
But, a different hunger, a different longing for completion, overshadowed even that. A hunger so powerful, Jayden almost lost himself.
Every fiber of his being yelled at him to turn around. To return to her. To rejoin her in the bed. To plunge within that sheath that had clamped around his finger, milking him.
He stumbled down the hallway, his hand, covered with her desire, held aloft. His arousal bobbed painfully. He lurched into his room, throwing himself inside and slamming the door behind him.
He fell to his knees. With a roar, he grabbed his robe with his left fist and tore it up and over his head, flinging it aside. He looked down at his naked body. His knees were spread wide apart. Every muscle in his thighs was bunched and angry. His arousal sprang from between them, jutting heavenward. The muscles in his abdomen quivered.
He looked again at his right hand. It was still covered with
her
. Her essence glistened in the dim light. With a cry, his hand flew to his arousal, wrapping around it. It was still warm and slick from her sex, and he tightened his grip with a groan.
Following an instinct he had only recently discovered he possessed, his hand began to move, pumping up and down, his grip tightening, his fingers passing over the sensitive nerve endings. Every time his fist passed over the aching head, he cried out. His seed began to rise, filling his shaft even more.
He closed his eyes and threw his head back. He pictured his woman. His Temptation. The way her skin glowed. Her perfect, rose-colored nipples as they pebbled for him. The way her body flooded with moisture when he touched her entrance. The way she sighed and moved against him.
Her eyes.
With a guttural yell, Jayden climaxed. Stars flew behind his closed eyes as he felt his seed shoot over his hand and splash his chest and abdomen. “
Grace
!” Her name flew from his lips as pleasure unlike any he had ever known wracked his body.
The pleasure faded, and Jayden was able to take a deep, healing breath for the first time since entering her room a lifetime ago.
Clarity.
He looked down at his body. Evidence of his folly covered his torso. With a sigh, he grabbed the sheet from the nearby bed, dragging it toward him and cleaning the spent passion from his chest.
And as he slipped his robe over his head once more, Jayden realized the most disturbing part of this incident: Though he felt a measure of regret, he wasn’t sorry. And he would do it again.
With a grimace, Jayden slowly stood, a heavy weight about his shoulders keeping him from moving quickly. Every bone in his body hovered between the utter relaxation his first orgasm had given him, and the kind of tension that foreshadowed unwelcome change.
He bent over to pick up the blanket he had used as a towel. He crumpled it into a tight ball and clutched it to his belly with a convulsive swallow. What was he to do with it? He could not leave it here where any of the humans could find it and learn of his unforgiveable weakness.
Something within his chest lurched in protest. To call this act an unforgiveable weakness was accurate, and yet did not feel right. It cheapened it somehow, this handful of moments that Jayden would never forget.
He plodded to the door, his wings drooping behind him, and opened it to stick his head out into the hallway. A quick look right and left, and then Jayden forced himself to move with some measure of speed toward the supply closet. He exhaled in a whoosh when he made it to the closet without any encounters, and was even more relieved when he discovered a laundry bin beneath a shelf of extra linens. He could put the blanket there, shove it down to the very bottom where no one would ever —
“Jayden.”
Jayden spun around with a very un-warrior-like intake of air, twisting his arms to hide the blanket behind his back.
He felt the blood drain from his face and fought for calm. “Anahita,” he managed hoarsely.
She stood close enough for him to see the shocked flare of her eyes at his uncharacteristically distant greeting. She was as beautiful as all of his brethren: robed in white, flowing hair, perfect features, breathtaking wings, and a purity that Jayden himself no longer possessed.
Shame poured hotly down Jayden’s throat, and he fumbled for the laundry bin without sight, dropping the blanket and slamming the door of the closet before leaning against it and praying that she would not ask —
“What are you doing?”
His first thought was of utter thankfulness that Anahita’s gift from the Most High was teleportation, not telepathy. Long moments passed as Jayden mentally scrambled for something to say that would be plausible. He arrived at nothing, and then realized that her presence here did not bode well. “What are
you
doing here?” he asked more defensively than he wished.
Her face remained emotionless.
Because she knows her duty
, Jayden mentally chastised himself. It had been mere days ago that Jayden possessed that same distance, that same blessed lack of emotion.
Her voice was soft and free of the censure Jayden deserved. “I was sent to check on the status of your mission, brother. To see if you required help.”
“No!”
This
did
garner a reaction. Anahita took a small step back, her lips parting slightly.
“No,” Jayden said, softer this time. “I require no assistance.” And then, because he needed to be reminded as much as she needed to know, “The most grievous defiler is with child. I must wait for her to deliver. Then I can carry out my mission.”
Anahita’s face relaxed. “Of course, Jayden.” She offered a small smile. “The others will be relieved. They have been worried.”
Jayden’s stomach dropped to his sandaled feet. The others would only be worried if — “They have talked to the Most High?” Jayden had taken so long that the Most High had decided to intervene? That had not happened in centuries.