ShiftingHeat (12 page)

“Oh so beautiful.” He encouraged her, his fingers exerting
more pressure, his own arousal growing almost unbearable as she twisted her
nipples, squeezed her breasts until the flesh escaped her fingers.

He worked her, brought her up to screaming point—nearly.
Until he leaned forward and lifted her. His cock needed no help finding its way
to her pussy, sliding home without him trying, knowing where it belonged. As
did he. Hot silky flesh enveloped him, surrounded him, made him want more and
still more.

With his arms around her waist, he guided her, not wanting
any sudden movements. Not yet. “Just enjoy, sweetness. Let it happen. Don’t
force it.” Spreading one hand, he caressed the curve from her waist to her hip,
then encompassed the slight swell of her stomach, feeling her tighten her
muscles. He slid his thumb down, just touched her clit. She jumped but he held
her steady so she didn’t go far. She gazed down at him, her expression softer
than he’d seen before. Again, he rejoiced that she’d trusted him and let him
in. He read suffering, though she kept some doors in her mind closed so he
couldn’t see exactly what that suffering entailed. She’d come through it all. He
had one hell of a woman here. He let himself relax into the pattern of her
mind, learning its nuances and rhythms, opening his so she could do the same,
if she wanted to.

Together they moved. She kneeled on the floor of the tub and
used her thigh muscles, lifting as he withdrew, bearing down as he thrust.
Every time his cock sank into her soft depths it was like entering heaven all
over again. Her juices flowed over him and they moved, easy as a dance they’d
performed many times before, new as the dawn.

Their minds met, blended and joined in bliss, their delight
mutual. Andros couldn’t have separated their experiences or the visions that
floated across their combined consciousness even if he’d wanted to. Her firm,
delicious flesh, her taste when he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked in
time to their dance.

“So good, you feel so good,” he murmured to her, touching
his tongue to her shoulder, just to touch her, to taste her.

“
We
feel so good.” She rested her head on his. “Your
hair is so soft. And so pale.”

“Polish.” He grinned, tipping his head back to stare into
her eyes. “Though I’m American, born and bred.”

He felt the question in her mind and answered it before she
articulated it. “Twenty-six, I’m twenty-six. Are you cradle-robbing?” Talents
appeared young until shortly before their death, so he couldn’t tell by looking
at her.

“Something like that.” She sank down on him. “Though right
now that’s not what I’m feeling.”

Increasing their movements incrementally, they worked toward
their climax. Waves of sensation prickled his skin, rising now and he gave way,
let them take over.

Her muscles stiffened, tightened and his balls drew in close
to his body. Pleasure-pain racked his body and like a burst of lightning in a
cloudy sky, it came. He came. She came, the involuntary clenching of her pussy
driving him higher. Semen surged up his cock. He felt its progress, a searing
tidal wave consuming him until he gave himself completely to it.

Their cries mingled, each other’s names and screams of
wordless, mindless joy.

And it was over. Except that it wasn’t. As sure as he knew
his name, he knew they’d experience it again.

Their minds remained open to each other and he rejoiced. She
trusted him enough to let him in real deep, although not yet all the way. His
mother had once told him that every woman deserved to keep a few secrets, and
he guessed that went for shape-shifters too.

Then he tensed. His love of music, linked to his facility at
math, had improved his ability to notice patterns, rhythms, shapes, and
something here wasn’t right. Something here didn’t belong to her or to him.

Her eyes snapped open. “What is it?”

“Wait, hold still.” The next moment he was sure of it. “I
think someone planted a compulsion in your mind.”

She jerked off him, sending the water splashing over the
edge of the tub. “What do you mean? Serena said she couldn’t find anything
initially.”

“Maybe she didn’t look close enough. Maybe she didn’t look
in the right place. But it’s here.”

She reacted badly, drawing her knees up to her chest and
bending over in a gesture of protection. “Can you get it out? Where is it? Show
me?”

A compulsion was a block someone planted in another’s mind.
Talented society considered them illegal, as was any form of deliberate
manipulation by one person on another. Not that it stopped people doing it.
Persuasion was one thing, something not approved of, but context mattered. Not
compulsion, the intrusion, the
rape
of one mind by another. He hid the
word quickly, although that was how he felt about that ugly block he could see
clearly now. He outlined it, concentrated, turned his outline to a glowing
shape. “Can you see it now?”

He felt her consciousness join him.
Yes.
Her voice
held a sob. “Get rid of it, Andros.”

He swallowed. “I don’t know if I can. Can you help?”

I think so.

There it was, the barrier. Like a hypnotist crooning
“believe me”, Nordheim had done this to her. The area breathed his name. Andros
read his identity as easily as if the professor had signed it. “Together. Work
at it like you’d chip at a block of stone. Eventually it should crumble and dissolve.”

He started at one end and she took the other. It was an
ugly, knotted shape he wanted gone, but not as much as she did. The shape
changed, lost its solidity as they attacked it, bore into it. Exhaustion
gripped him but he wouldn’t give up until it was all gone.

They met in the middle. Nothing remained of the obstacle
blocking some impulses, and now they had destroyed it, they could both see what
he’d blocked. Her ability to question Nordheim, and a strong compulsion to
believe him without question.

“The fucking bastard.” Andros wasn’t aware he’d spoken aloud
until she agreed with him, also verbally.

He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “All gone.”

“Yes. Hold me, Andros.” She shivered and only then did he
realize the water had gone cold. He had no idea how long they’d taken until
then. An hour. Jesus, he hadn’t realized. But she needed caring for now, so he
climbed out and went to the shower stall, flicked on the water.

He took her into the shower and held her until they both
warmed up, and then dried her with one of his thick, fluffy white towels. By
then the color had returned to her skin and although she didn’t speak much, she
responded to his gentle questions. He kept to their current state. Was she warm
enough, did she want a drink, did she want a separate bed?

Yes, no and no.

He took her to bed and watched her sleep, content just
having her here.

Chapter
Five

Faye didn’t forget his cradle-robbing crack, although she
made no reference to it afterward. Twenty-six. He was twenty-six. And yet with
his mastery in bed, she had taken the passive role and loved every minute of
it. Not that she didn’t take control. After waking and using the bathroom, she
returned to bed to find he’d thrown off most of the covers, exposing his
delectable body.

She took a moment to admire him. Not a muscular bodybuilder
type, but with a strong, well-developed body that showed his determination to
recover after the disease that could have killed him. She wanted to run her
tongue over every strong curve, feel him flex his body as he woke.

Then there was that other item that had given her so much pleasure
earlier that night. Lying against his thigh now, as dormant as its owner, she
thought she knew what to do about that. It’d had enough time to recuperate.

Smiling devilishly, she climbed back on to the bed and
straddled him, careful not to touch him just yet. Pausing, she watched him to
ensure he slept on. His deep breathing continued unabated. She bent over him,
let her breath bathe him, and examined his cock. She approved, enjoying the
sight of his cock head in repose, a part of him the protective foreskin would
cover, if he had one. Its warmth called to her, the soft, smooth skin tempted
her to taste, and the scent of their lovemaking made her pussy wet. Moisture
trickled down one thigh and she moved it slightly so it wouldn’t touch him and
wake him. She knew exactly when she wanted him awake.

This was fun.

He stirred and she held her breath. He reached out an arm,
swept it down the sheet and sighed when he couldn’t find her. Time to act. Faye
pushed her hair behind her shoulders, bent and licked the very tip of his cock,
taking his unique, delicious flavor as her own.

His musky scent enveloped her and she breathed deep,
inhaling what she was about to taste. Planting her hands on either side of his
thighs for balance, she took him into her mouth and sucked.

Then she licked, savoring the flavor of what she’d just
drawn from him. Only a tiny bit, but his cock stirred and she felt it come to
life against her tongue as he awoke, hardening, thickening and lengthening.

A tiny groan, a gasp of shock and then his fingers cupped
her skull, threaded through her hair. His grip tightened when she sucked harder
and took him deeper and his groan became a word. Her name.

His thighs tensed in an involuntary reaction to her deep
sucking. She gripped his cock, the part that wouldn’t fit into her mouth unless
she deep throated him, and worked it in time to her sucking. When she paused to
lick and taste, he moaned. “Not much more, please, sweetheart.” He twisted
under her as if to escape, but his cries and moans told her that wasn’t really
what he wanted. She slipped into his mind, into the deeper part where she could
feel his emotions, and a thrill shot through her when she realized she’d met no
resistance. A knife into butter couldn’t have gone in more smoothly. And by
reading him, she could make it better for him.

A heady feeling, to have a man totally in her power.

She drew him to the back of her throat but decided not to go
further today. She wanted this to be a smooth, joyful experience as though he
were waking up to orgasm, and gagging wouldn’t enhance that.

She didn’t speak into his mind but shared her pleasure with
him, all of it, even the feelings of control. He responded with happiness and
gratitude, a sign of a strong man. Because it took a strong man to give up
control, to give himself up to someone else.

His arousal rose, in her mind as well as his, and he grasped
her shoulder with his free hand. “No more, please. Or I’ll come.”

Her only response was to chuckle, deliberately letting the
vibrations circle his cock and ending with a hum. He tensed and bucked so that
she had to draw on the strength of her dragon to keep him steady so she could
finish her task.

His breathless laugh told her he knew what she’d done.
Besides, the communication went both ways and he’d probably sensed the rise of
the dragon in her. Starving for his taste, she concentrated on the changes. The
way his balls tightened and the salty flavor turned deeper, thicker, more musky
as his orgasm became inevitable.

With a great shout, he erupted. She felt his essence moving
up, filling him with uncontrollable pleasure.

She drank him down, every drop, every delicious part of his
climax and then rested, letting her dragon subside into sleep. She felt as
sated as if she’d come too, and she wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t. One of the
gradual climaxes that arrive in great waves and then subside like the tide
going out rather than fireworks exploding.

After making sure she had every drop of him, she let him
help her up into his arms and lay there, content. He kissed her hair, then when
she lifted her chin, her lips. She opened her mouth and he swept in to share
the taste and then she felt a little flutter in the region of her clit like an aftershock.

His incredibly tender gesture had pushed her over the edge.

She’d remember his taste for the rest of her life. Just as
she’d remember the way he cradled her in his arms afterward as they drifted off
to sleep.

* * * * *

The next day Faye had to dress in yesterday’s clothes. She
left off the panties and when Andros saw the lacy garment on the bathroom floor,
he leered and promised retribution later for her taking them off. She loved it,
but she decided to make use of the spare set of clothes she kept in the office
or her girlfriends would totally destroy her. His levity helped her to cope
with the devastating events of the day before, helped her begin the process of
putting it into place and reordering her life. She had a new boyfriend and one
ex-friend. That was all. The rest would come with time. Before she left STORM,
she was issued a blue ankle bracelet and basic instructions. To keep Andros
with her, in her mind, to contact him if she thought anything was amiss, and to
meet with him later. STORM was having Nordheim’s office searched and the
contents boxed, leaving it ready for the next incumbent, who happened to be
Serena Duval under the name of Casey Burrows.

Faye’s girlfriends were waiting avidly for her to show up,
as it happened. She walked into the main office of the department and they all
looked up. Lara was there, and she had the day off, Faye knew for sure. Three
women, eyes gleaming, in an otherwise empty office. “So tell us,” Cathy said
without preamble. “Where did you get to after yesterday’s drama? And was he
good, was he worth it?”

She tried for the dignified response. “They took me in to
STORM for questioning. I stood near the poor guy who got stabbed, so they
wanted to know what had happened.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lara waved away the response. “Not buying it. You
were holding hands with a blond guy on crutches. You telling me that was out of
terror? Don’t even go there, girl. You were with him before it all started.”