“Faster healing,” she reinforces, slowly opening her eyes. “One of the perks, I guess.” She smiles faintly.
Tony narrows his glance, asking for permission. She nods, her breathing becoming more pronounced, suddenly matching his. Tony raises the blade to her shoulder, steadying his hand under the labored rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes watch his focusing on her flesh, preparing to bear down with the thin, shiny piece of metal. He readjusts it in his hands several times, attempting to find the least painful position. He looks up at her, her eyes fixed on his. She nods, holding her breath, an attempt to hold still for him. He prepares holding the skin around the scar taut with one hand, while he makes contact with the tip of the scar, the razor blade in the other. Gina closes her eyes, waiting for the sensation, only to be interrupted by a
Whisht!
“I can’t do it,” he says, the blade tucked tightly back into the armor of the utility tool. He drops it to the floor, disappointment in his expression.
“It’s okay,” Gina insists, her eyes darting back and forth between his. “I didn’t want you to do it. Must be pretty freaky, huh?” Shame replaces the wonder in her eyes.
Tony cups her face in his unsteady hands, looking at her intently. “Farthest thing from it. It’s amazing, DeLuca. Fucking beautiful.” His hand slides down to her chest, covering the scar. “Just can’t tear your flesh open. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Is that all?” she inquires coyly, placing her hand over his. “You really wanna do this?”
His forehead now resting against hers, his hand trailing from her face to the back of her neck. He gives her an affirmative squeeze, nodding his head. His eyes completely salacious, his mouth grows wet being so close to hers, just to taste her.
“You trust me?” The tide’s now turned.
“Yes,” he half whispers, half groans.
“Kiss me,” she says, somewhere between a plea and a command.
With the fervor inside him successfully knotted into a full-blown frenzy, his mouth crushes down on hers. She returns his momentum, stride for stride. Her hands wound in the collar of his shirt, his in the strands of her hair, their melding is equally craved, raw and satisfying. Breathing, sporadic and inconvenient at this point, each shows the other every trick they’ve got. Tony groans, resonant and prideful, from the depths of his chest, causing Gina to purr deep and low, in the back of her throat. His bottom lip between hers, she bears down, drawing blood, causing him to do the same to her in kind. She quickly follows up with a sweetly apologetic lick and suck.
A different kind of groan escapes Tony this time, one of both pleasure and pain. His mouth curves into a smile. “Clever, baby.”
“One of the richest blood supplies. The mouth.” She smiles back, the taste of the viscous substance finding its way to her taste buds. “Now what?”
He shrugs. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.” He inspects her, specifically her eyes, waiting for the transformation. “You feel anything?”
She ponders. “Aroused.”
He grabs her up in his arms, carrying her to the bedroom.
“What are you doing?”
“We gotta get you worked up, right? Dr. Godfrey’s orders.” He grins. “Get the blood flowing, your heart pumping.”
She giggles, throwing her head back. “If I turn into that thing and don’t remember this, I’m going to be pissed.”
“And if it results in death for me, all I have to say is, what a way to go.” He playfully throws her onto his bed, rapidly peeling his clothes off.
She meets his enthusiasm, coming up onto her knees, hastily removing her robe. “Modest much?” she inquires, looking around at the walls and the ceiling nearly covered with mirrors.
“One of the earliest sex toys known to man,” he confirms, kneeling as she is on the bed. She takes him in with open arms, he takes her mouth in his, their blood meshing and mingling with each caress of their lips. Her breathing and her heartbeat escalating, her body aches.
“Tony,” she calls his name, clutching his body next to hers. “Something’s happening here. Oh, God.” The pulse in her head starts its incessant throbbing. “Can we skip the foreplay? Just get to it,” she requests adamantly through ragged breaths, praying she can remain cognizant, and that Tony will remain intact.
“You gotta let me get you warmed up,” he contests.
She takes his hand and strokes it between her thighs. “Warm enough for ya?”
“Aw baby,” he growls with the contact of her hot, moist flesh.
Her chest heaves up and down, she closes her eyes, grabbing her head between her hands, surely to explode. “Please, please, please...Tony,” she begs.
He obliges, entering her slowly, studying her face. She moans, appeased with the release, stifling her body motionless. “Gina,” he coaxes.
“I’m afraid to move,” she whispers.
He grins, understanding her apprehension. “Open your eyes.”
He strokes her deeper this time, causing her to gasp, flitting her eyes open. In between the fear and doubt, a dim sparkling emerald green cast exudes from her stare. Tony smiles, triumphantly. She darts her eyes away from him, the luminous green glow ricochets from mirror to mirror. She squeezes her eyes shut, hiding her head in his chest.
“What the hell was that?” she pants.
Tony chuckles, coaxing her head up. “Amazing, huh?”
“Alarming,” she corrects, her eyes remain closed.
“Gina, baby...you gotta see yourself.” He trails kisses up her neck. She nuzzles into him, moving against him rhythmically. “Relax, baby. I gotcha.” She meets his lips with her own, a little more powerful than she realizes, drawing blood again. Tony groans, pulling away slightly.
“Shit!” she scolds. “Sorry. Let me see.” She inspects with her eyes, finally unaware of their appearance. Every action she makes is efficient and fast with great fluidity and finesse. Tony watches her, intrigued. “This isn’t going to work,” she sighs, wiping the blood from his lip, running her tongue across the metallic-tasting substance on her own. “I’m too scared of what I might do to enjoy it.”
“Nothing bad is going to happen,” he pacifies, laying her down flat on the bed.
Her body grows uncomfortable, her mind working through snapshots, visions. She closes her eyes, shaking her head, attempting to drive them out. Tony bends down to her, his voice soothing, coaxing her to open her eyes. As she does, her central focus is his neck, displaying a spider web tattoo.
“Gina,” he says her name, only a distant murmur to her as the intense ringing inside her head fills her auditory sensors.
Ga-gung...ga-gung...ga-gung
, her heart surges. She breathes deeply, forcefully, providing every nerve and muscle fiber within her body with adequate oxygenation. She snarls, grabbing Tony by the neck with one hand, wrapping the other around his back.
“Oh shit!” he stammers, knowing he has no defense, only to hold on.
Her eyes dart to the mirror above, the concentrated power they exude to the reflective surface causes it to shatter all over them and the bed below.
“Close your eyes!” Tony advises.
With great momentum, she swings up from her supine position, taking Tony with her, directing her body forward. Tony pushes against her, causing her to release even more exertion. She lurches from the bed to the back wall, completely airborne. His back crushes against the mirror lining the wall, crumbling it into sharp, jagged pieces.
“Ugh!” he gasps, the air knocked from his lungs with the impact. He does what comes naturally to him, sweeping her leg and taking the tussle to the ground. The sparkling emerald green light fills the room, as they spin body over body, end over end, across the floor, grappling. “Goddammit, DeLuca, snap out of it, would ya? You’re giving me a hell of a rug burn,” he grunts between hold maneuvers.
“Quit fighting me,” she says, annoyed, as if he should know that.
“You’re in there? Gina?” he pants.
“I think. Somewhere.” She finally gets him pinned onto his back, sitting upright astraddle of him.
He puts his arms over his head, a gesture of defeat. His chest moves up and down erratically, his body glistening with moisture from exertion, certain his heart will leap out of his chest at any moment. She sits atop him, firm and calm, as if she exerted the bare minimum.
“I have an overwhelming urge to choke you right now,” she says, looking down at him, her head cocked to the side curiously, her eyes studying him with intent.
He grins. “How come you’re so calm?” he puffs between breaths.
“I was just getting warmed up,” she says matter-of-factly with a straight face. Her hands remain at her side as she scans him egregiously. “I feel like I’m supposed to do something to you. But what?”
He sits up underneath her. She leans back, defensively. He puts his hands up, palms out, shoulder level.
“Maybe I should close my eyes,” she suggests.
“Unh-uh,” he quickly nixes that idea, shaking his head. “We’re getting somewhere, De Luca...Gina...Vigilare.” He smiles, shrugging his shoulders. “Keep ’em open. God, your beautiful,” he exclaims, studying her, his hand aching for contact with her flesh. “Can I touch you?”
“I might touch you back,” she warns, miming his hand positioning as if she is prepared to deliver whatever he does.
He steadily moves his hand in her direction, letting it contact her skin. At first, only the fingertips, then the fingers, and finally the palm. He firmly but gently strokes her neck, her shoulders, her arms.
“That feels nice,” she affirms, shuddering against his hands, feeling as though her nerve endings might explode, everything amplified tenfold.
He takes her hands, laying them against his flesh, instantly jolted by the current running through her, causing his skin to tingle. “You have a motor or something?” he teases, sure she is charged somehow.
She nods, jesting. “Think I’m idling.”
“Let’s try and keep you there,” he whispers, pulling her mouth toward his, knowing full well overdrive may prove deadly.
She resists him a little in meeting his lips, the movement extremely awkward to her in this state. Her senses incredibly heightened, the softness of his mouth feels like silk, each warm bead of moisture like water on fire, her internal temperature on the rise.
She leans her head back, breaking the union of their mouths. “I feel like I’m outside my body. Just under the surface,” she whispers, disconnected. “It hurts,” she laments, letting her eyes settle onto his, mirroring his carnal expression.
“Where’s it hurt?” he asks, teasing her lips exquisitely with his tongue. Her hair disheveled and cascading around her face, Tony locks his hands into it holding it out of the way.
She runs her hand across her lower abdomen. “Here. It aches,” she replies. “The more you touch me, the harder it aches.”
Tony grins, empathizing with the same ache. “I can make it stop.”
She presses her lips to his, agonizingly, it hurts so good. “Make it stop,” she pleads, pulling her mouth away, remaining only centimeters apart. Her breathing laborious and heavy, sure to expire if there is no release.
Tony prepares her, as well as himself.
Take it easy, take it easy, take it easy
, he rehearses, a reminder to counteract the ravenous urge running through him every time he looks at her, purely intoxicating. He delivers, first just the tip, to which she tenses, gasping and holding her breath. “Easy...easy...easy,” he rehearses aloud this time, entering her further with each
easy
. He bears down with his mouth as her fingernails penetrate deeper into the flesh on his shoulders with each new depth. She does not react, fully unaware of her own strength and clueless she has drawn his blood, yet again.
Once he is fully inside her, she sighs a contented exhale, locking her body around his.
“Oh God,” he murmurs, his body quaking, her current consuming him. His thick, dark eyelashes pressed together momentarily, soaking up the sensations, the floor surely disappearing beneath. The intensity so great, he barely notices the nicks and scratches left from her exceptional roaming hands and mouth, the pleasure far exceeding any discomfort, fully aware he is as close to the supernatural as he will ever be. He slowly opens his eyes, finding hers, now bewitchingly iridescent, multicolored. He looks around the room in awe as the colors bounce and spin off the remaining mirrors lining his walls, reminiscent of a disco ball. “See what you’re doing?” he asks, searching for clarification as if his own eyes may be playing tricks on him.
“I can’t see anything,” she confesses, her voice smooth and melodic, a most pleasing sound to his ears.
He caresses her face, realizing she speaks the truth, her eyes clearly glazed, unable to track or focus.
“But I can feel every single thing. So sublime,” she moans, the corners of her mouth curving into a fully satisfied smile. “Your heart is beating one-hundred-and-fifteen times per minute. Every time you breathe, it takes my breath away. Your hands feel like silk on fire. Your scent.” She breathes him in. “Virile, but sweet. Like a cherry lollipop...sex on a stick.” She giggles. “Feels like I’m freaking floating on air.”
“I’m not so sure we aren’t,” he concurs, a smooth libidinous chuckle escaping him. He breathes in deeply, causing her to gasp, literally taking her breath away. “Gina, Gina, Gina,” he groans, fully willing himself unto her clairvoyant spell, engulfing her mouth with his own.
“You might want to get ahold of something,” she warns, her breathing tumultuous, her grip ever tightening, nearing climax.
He smiles eagerly. “Bring it, baby.”
Chapter 20
TWO DAYS LATER. Vanguard County Courthouse. The place is astir. Amidst the lore surrounding the case and the media blitz, there is no shortage of spectators. Groups rally and shout opinions at each other outside the main entrance to the courthouse. Inside, the sound of well-made shoes
clip-clop
off the tediously tended granite floors, as passersby extend quick nods and smiles, holding phones to their ears or in their hands, their thumbs tapping wildly. Vanguard PD is out in full force beefing up security.