Stone Passions Trilogy (67 page)

His fingers curled into the lacy straps of her panties and as he pulled the flimsy material down her legs, he ran his tongue along her skin, kissing and nipping as he went. Pulling against the restraints, feeling the stretch of her shoulders and arms, she wanted to pull the blindfold off and see what he was doing. She wanted to see the lost in sensuality expression that darkened his eyes when he was making love with her and she almost begged him to remove the blindfold.

He pushed her legs apart and when he kissed his way back up her legs he was between them, the rasp of his blue jeans rough against her sensitized skin. The heat of his breath along her inner thigh was the only warning she had before he gently spread the lips of her sex apart and delicately ran his tongue along her clit. Her body ached off the bed, pushing her harder against his mouth.

His hand pressed down on her stomach, holding her in place as he suckled and ravaged her with his tongue and teeth. She struggled against the bonds, her body trying to twist against his unrelenting sexual mastery. Gasping for breath, straining to get closer or maybe to get away, she almost screamed in frustration when he stopped the torment and placed a gentle kiss on her inner thigh.

The bed shifted as he slid off. With her body strung to the point of shattering, she was shaking and confused. “Rhys?”

She could hear movement: the slide of a drawer, rummaging, the drawer closing. There were footsteps and then the bed shifting once again as Rhys sat down next to her hip. Grabbing her around the waist, he flipped her onto her back. A moment later warm liquid dribbled between her shoulder blades and she tensed, “What are you doing?”

“Shh,” he murmured, pouring more of the liquid onto her flesh. There was a soft sound as he put the bottle down and then his warm, broad palms were gliding across her skin, massaging her muscles in a slow, sensuous caress. With her body still vibrating from her near-orgasm, the slide of his hands over her skin was divine. He didn’t dig into her muscles, just gently caressed them, sliding his hands down her spine to her ass.

A little squeak escaped as he kneaded her bottom and she jumped, making the infuriating man chuckle. His thumbs pressed against the curve of her rear and then slid lower, to the swollen folds of her vagina. Her rear tilted higher, allowing him greater access to her sex and he gave a hum of approval from the back of his throat.

He massaged down her legs, lavishing attention on every inch of her skin until she was a puddle of goo held together by pliant skin. With the blindfold covering her eyes every touch was amplified and as he slowly worked his way over her calves, her knees, her thighs, she thought she may have died for a moment. His chest covered her back as his lips teased the sensitive skin by her ear, “Lift your hips, sweetheart.”

Somehow, she managed to get her liquid muscles to obey, lifting her butt back into the air. The head of his cock nudged her opening, sliding easily in to the wet depths. Lifting off her body, he grabbed her hips and buried himself deep inside of her. He thrust a few times and her butt arched higher, wanting him deeper. Her fingers curled into the silk ties, holding on as his body slid against hers, as he rode her hard.

And just as she was about to come, he pulled out, denying her again. This time, she did scream, “Rhys! Please!”

Still holding her hips, he flipped her back over, maneuvering her legs so they were on either side of his hard body, so she was spread open to his gaze. The quick change in position jostled every cell in her body, taking the pleasure once again to the verge of pain. Her body was vibrating with need and she thought she was going to die if he didn’t let her come. He shifted and then warm liquid splashed onto her naked midriff.

Rhys started in with the slow, sensual assault again, massaging her stomach, her ribs, cupping her breasts in his hands and thrumming her nipples. Arching her back, thrusting her breasts against his hands, she begged, “Please, Rhys, I want to come. I need to come.”

“Do you want me to bring you to orgasm with my cock or my tongue?” he asked, his voice rasping against her flesh. When her brain short circuited and no words managed to come out, he whispered, “You better decide soon, the sun is almost up.”

The memory of how he tasted as a gargoyle, how powerfully she responded to the magical fluid, had her lifting her hips in silent entreaty, her lips parting in invitation. She didn’t care how he brought her to orgasm because as that point a light breeze would do the trick. The bed shifted and his thighs were pressed against her armpits and she felt the head of his erection against her lips. Without needing him to say anything, she opened her mouth wider and swallowed him whole, tasting herself on his pulsing cock.

He brushed her hair from her face and slid the hand behind her neck, holding her as he fucked her throat. “My gods, your mouth on my cock is the most erotic sight.”

Swirling her tongue around the flange, she lapped up the fluid, feeling it burn through her body. Though it wasn’t as powerful as it was when he was in his gargoyle form it was still potent. As it made its way deeper into her system, little explosions started bursting and she was humping the air, desperate for that one little touch that would push her over the edge.

Her body was slick with oil and perspiration and she was so close. Rhys’s cock filled her mouth but it wasn’t enough. She jerked at the bindings, her muscles straining against the hold, desperate to touch Rhys, to touch herself and assuage the ache burning between her thighs. His body jerked and a rush of fluid filled her mouth, hitting the back of her throat as she swallowed, desperate for every drop.

He pulled his cock out with an audible pop, his fluid splashing against her breasts, her stomach as he moved down her body and pushed his pulsating erection into her, setting off the detonation that exploded every cell in her body. Her back arched as she strained against her bondage, as Rhys held himself deep, deep inside of her body, and she screamed as pleasure boiled her blood and set her on fire.

Chapter 13

After an early dinner with the London gargoyles the next evening, Rhys and Jenna flew down to Athens, this time as the only passengers since Kiltes had stayed in London and Rahan and Maury took a different flight to Crete. With two hours and a plane to themselves Jenna became a member of the mile high club, several times over and in some very creative ways. After all, seduction was the best way she could imagine to keep Rhys’s mind off of the fact that he was in an airplane to begin with. He seemed to like her methods.

As they hurried across the tarmac, Rhys holding her hand, he shouted out to be heard over the engines of the planes, “We should call home from the airport. My brothers here disdain modern communication – they prefer the old ways.”

“What are the old ways?” she asked, clutching onto Rhys’s arm just so she could caress his powerful muscles. Besides, her legs were still a little shaky from Rhys’s treatment.

He flashed a smile, his teeth very white in his face, “The usual: summoning spells, spirit walking, begging a dryad for a little magic. They’re also powerful enough to use telepathy, which is freaky as hell when you’re woken up in the middle of the day with your brother’s voice talking in your head asking how your night is going.”

Leaning her head against his shoulder, she called out, “I wish we could use cell phones. They have some that even make international calls.”

He grimaced, “Magic and technology aren’t always compatible and unfortunately that incompatibility extends to cell phones and satellite phones.”

She was sure Omari must have mentioned it before they had left but all of those conversations were a little fuzzy. As nice as it had been to not be tethered by a piece of plastic and it hadn’t been so long since she last called home she missed her daughter like mad. Though she tried not to worry, she wondered how Ferris was doing even though she knew her daughter was in excellent hands.

She hoped Ferris wasn’t too much for Melanie to deal with. Of course, knowing Melanie, she was probably spoiling Ferris just to take her mind off Vaughn. She hoped her sister was doing all right, knowing that Lenni was tougher than she thought. And if all worked out as they fervently hoped, Rhys and Jenna would be bringing back a cure, or whatever it was, to restore Vaughn.

Jenna was giddy just thinking about it. She knew better than to get her hopes up but the pessimist had taken a definite backseat and now she was cautiously optimistic. And she felt as if a massive load that she hadn’t even realized she was carrying around had been lifted. It was hard work being negative all of the time. It fed upon itself until it consumed one’s soul.

Rhys held out the phone towards her, “Would you like to call Ferris first?”

Her lips parted in a brilliant smile and she eagerly took the phone. Realizing how exceedingly eager she looked to call home, she tried to temper her smile but she couldn’t. So she lowered her lashes, giving him a demure look and trying to act as if she wasn’t desperately excited to talk to her daughter, especially since Ferris was going to be heading to Florida with her grandparents in a few days. “If you don’t mind.”

He chuckled as he punched in the number on the old fashioned phone. The phone rang a few times before going to her parent’s answering machine. Disappointed, Jenna left a quick message to let Ferris and her parents know that they had made it safely to Athens, that they were going to be there for a day or two before they headed for the island, and that she’d try to call again when she got a chance.

Hanging up the phone, she tried to smile as she faced Rhys but it wavered. She was bursting with excitement and no one had answered the phone. Her lips trembled as she softly admitted, “They weren’t home.”

“Come here, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms and holding her as dejection settled in her gut, the euphoria of only moments before evaporating into mist. Closing her eyes, she listened to the steady rhythm of Rhys’s heart, the thump-thump soothing her as much as the feel of his arms around her. Oh, how she loved being in his arms, in bed or out of bed, naked or clothed. She wanted forever with him.

Stepping back, she brushed the soft skin beneath her eyes, stemming whatever tears threatened to fall. This time when she smiled, it was firmer even if the feelings behind it were vacillating between longing for more and being joyful in the moment. “You should call Armand. Maybe Ferris is staying at the castle with Melanie.”

“You’ll get to talk to her, love,” he assured her, making her truly smile. She trusted Rhys. He would make sure they took the time to call home before Ferris flew off to Florida.

Rhys ran his hand along her shoulder, taking her hand in his and holding it as he picked up the phone and dialed a new number. Holding her eyes, he grinned mischievously and waggled his eyebrows, “I’m going to tell Armand that I’m going to be giving up my nights for you.”

She swatted at his arm, shaking her head, “You can’t do that to him, Rhys. It’ll give the poor man a heart attack.”

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, giving her hand a squeeze. “Gargoyles can’t have heart attacks – that’s the beauty of the plan. I’m four thousand miles away, the most he can do is yell and get riled up and riling up Armand is one of my many joys in life.”

“I am starting to feel sorry for your older brother,” she grinned.

He smiled but didn’t say anything more as the phone was answered on the other end. His eyes grew impossibly large and his lips parted on a sharp inhalation of air. The hand holding hers slackened and suddenly he was clutching the phone with both hands, turning his back away from the noise of the busy airport, away from Jenna. He croaked out a meager, “Vaughn?”

Jenna gasped, putting her hand on Rhys’s back as she struggled to remember how to breathe, knowing what it meant if Vaughn was alive. Melanie…. Omari told them the only way for Vaughn to return to them was if Melanie had… She couldn’t even think the word because it was too much. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest and her fingers curled into Rhys’s back as recriminations and self-loathing threatened to tear her apart. If it truly was Vaughn who answered the phone, then that meant her sister was... dead.

Oh, God, oh, God, she couldn’t breathe. She’d been living in a fantasy, fucking a gargoyle, imagining a future with a gargoyle, and her sister was gone. She was gone and Jenna hadn’t been there…. Her knees gave out and she crumbled to the ground, desperately trying to get oxygen into her rebelling lungs.

Rhys’s arms were around her and he was rocking her, murmuring that it was all right, that everything was all right. Pain lanced through her body at his words. How could he say everything was all right when everything was wrong? “Jenna,” he said, his voice urgent. Pushing her hair out of the way, he framed her face with his hands and tilted her head back, concern burnishing his voice. “Jenna, look at me. Melanie is alive, Jenna. She’s alive.”

Through a rushing of noise, she heard his words and willed them to be true. Blinking, she looked at him, at the joy that infused his face. Blinking again, she saw that the phone was dangling by the cord, abandoned by Rhys as he took care of her, as he brought her back to safety. Slowly, she returned her gaze back and was nearly blinded by the radiant elation brightening his eyes, his smile, his entire face. “But Vaughn….”