Eidolon (4 page)

“I’ll make it up to you,” I said frantically. “I—”

“It’s perfect.” The smile, the one he only ever seemed to
have for me, spread over his features, lighting up his eyes and transforming
his face. “I love the card. No one’s ever…well, no one’s ever done anything
like this for me before. Thank you. And oh! I have something for you!”

He fumbled for a moment in the front pocket of his coat…then
his face fell. “Drat. I must have crushed it when I was flailing about for the
matches.”

The box he pulled out did indeed look rather squashed. The
lid advertised “Fancy French Creams,” which explained the gooey mess of
chocolate and cream oozing out.

He’d gotten me something? I’d not expected it. He had
nothing to prove to me, after all, and I had everything to prove to him.

Perhaps…I couldn’t imagine we had a chance, and yet I wanted
to believe it, more than I’d ever wanted to believe anything in my life.

“I’m sorry,” he said, staring morosely at the box.

“Don’t be.” I took it from him and set it aside. My heart
beat oddly, and I had to speak past an obstruction in my throat. “Thank you. No
one’s ever given me a Valentine’s Day present before.”

“Really? I mean, er, I’m glad to be the first.” He blushed
lightly and dropped his gaze, fingers still clutching the card. “I know you
wanted to give me a perfect evening, and you have. Because, well. We’re here.
Together.”

The smile his words summoned felt too big for my mouth. I
stepped closer to him, wrapping my fingers over his and looking up. The fire
had warmed the room, but I didn’t think the heat brought the fresh flush of
pink to his cheeks. “We are,” I agreed, pitching my voice low. “Alone here
together. And as the theater is a loss, perhaps we can find another way to pass
the time.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, and the tip of
his tongue touched his lower lip in an unconscious little gesture, which sent blood
rushing to fill my cock. “Y-Yes. I think we might.”

I plucked the card from his fingers and put it by the box,
before leaning to press my thighs against his. “I suppose we could play cards,”
I teased.

He bent his head, not quite close enough to kiss me. “No
cards.”

“Chess? Or perhaps clean the kitchen—”

His mouth cut off my words: hungry and insistent. I kissed
him back with equal fervor, running my tongue along the seam of his lips, until
they parted for me. He tasted faintly of mint, and more of warmth and need.

I pulled back long enough to unbutton his coat and shove it
off his shoulders. He let it fall then hurriedly worked to unfasten collars,
cuffs, and vest. I followed suit, before dropping to my knees on the carpet in
front of him and reaching for his trousers.

He gasped when I undid the buttons. I made sure I stroked
and teased the rigid shaft underneath. Yanking his trousers down to his ankles,
I leaned forward and mouthed his cock through the soft cotton of his drawers.
God, he smelled good: a hint of salt and ambergris, like a fresh wind off the
ocean.

His hand closed on my shoulder. “Let me…before I fall,” he
said, trying to stand on one foot and kick his pants off. Unfortunately, he still
wore his shoes.

I helped him with the shoes and trousers—then drew him
down to straddle my lap on the floor. His shirt hung open, and I pushed the
fabric aside as I kissed and nibbled his neck. He arched against me with a
whimper, grinding his cock against mine through layers of fabric.

When my mouth closed on one pink nipple, he groaned and
cupped the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair and urging me on.
I did as he wanted, tasting his skin as I teased and sucked first one nipple,
then the next. Eventually, he pulled back, shucking off his shirt and reaching
to undo his drawers.

“Let me,” I said.

“Yes,” he whispered, the husky note in his voice sending
another surge of lust into my aching prick. While I removed the last of my
clothing, he grabbed the throw from the couch and flung it in front of the
fire, before lying down upon it.

I joined him, but paused for a moment, just to look. His
eyes, dark with lust, his lips swollen from my kisses, nipples hard nubs
flushed red amidst the pale skin of his almost hairless chest. No one who saw
him on the street, so very proper and contained, would imagine him a sheer
wanton in bed. Seeing this side of him—knowing only I was allowed to see
it—was its own special thrill.

Then he laid his hand on my prick, and I found myself
distracted from simply admiring.

“Mmm.” I wanted to pump into his fingers, but there were
other things I’d prefer to do first. I reached down and slowly undid his
drawers, pulling his length free at last. “Let me taste you.”

“P-please, Griffin.”

I slid down until I was even with his hip. I’d been with a
great many men, from ugly to stunningly handsome, and fancied I’d fucked just
about every type of body possible. But something about his long limbs and
ridiculous hair, his dark eyes, and boyish smile made me desire him from the
first moment I’d glimpsed him.

And it certainly didn’t hurt when he proved to have one of
the most gorgeous cocks I’d had the pleasure to look upon, taste, or be
buggered with.

Three years ago, I would have thought limiting myself to a
single bed too boring a proposition to even consider, and yet I couldn’t seem
to get enough of Whyborne. He was an ever-unfolding mystery to me, and I longed
to know him as I’d never known anyone before.

One year ago, after the asylum, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever go
to bed with anyone again. If my cock would ever harden with desire…but those
memories had no place here.

I moved to lie beside him, focusing on his face, on the
present instead of the darkness of the past. “Tell me what you want, my dear,”
I begged, running my hand over his belly.

The pink flush of his skin deepened. “I…well…”

Now this was intriguing. I loved hearing his beautiful mouth
say filthy things to me, and he’d overcome enough of his shyness to ask me to
suck him, or even fuck him.

“What?” I prompted. “You can ask for anything, Ival. I want
to do everything with you.”

He flushed crimson. “I want you.”

I caught his meaning and grinned. He’d fucked me before, of
course, but each time at my suggestion. “Do you want to bugger me?” I asked
teasingly. “Do you want to shove your wonderful big cock up my ass and make me
beg for more?”

“Oh God, yes,” and the sheer longing in his voice almost
made me come.

Which would have been a damnable waste. I nipped his
shoulder lightly with my teeth. “Go in the bedroom and fetch the petroleum
jelly.”

While he did, I took a plump pillow from the end of the
couch and stuffed it beneath my hips. My cock stood up in anticipation, and I
took a few deep breaths to relax.

Whyborne returned a few moments later, his pale skin pebbled
from the cold of the unheated bedroom. “I’ll warm the jelly first,” he
promised, which was a damn sight more courtesy than I’d gotten from some
fellows.

“Just hurry,” I growled. “I want to feel you in me.”

It drew the expected blush from him. I loved having the
power to make him blush. I loved knowing him well enough to do so.

I loved him.

His fingers invaded me, and I let the sensation distract me
from all other thoughts. This moment was urgent, and real, and I gave myself
over to it whole-heartedly. “Oh! Yes, Ival, more, please!”

“Anything. Anything you want,” he said, taking up position
between my legs. His eyes burned, the full force of his passion turned on me,
as if he meant to devour me body and soul.

And God, I’d let him. I’d let him do anything to me, as long
as it made him happy.

I was utterly lost.

He took me slow and tender at the first, because he was
always a gentleman at heart, making sure of my enjoyment before his own. I
arched my back, gasping and clutching at the throw beneath me, begging for more
even as my body stretched around the wide head of his cock. And he gave me
more, every inch, stuffing me as full as I’d ever been.

My prick ached, and I wanted to stroke myself until I came.
I held back and, instead, concentrated on him. Wanting to remember tonight, and
wanting it not to be over too quickly because I didn’t dare think we’d have a
second Valentine’s Day together. He planted his hands to either side of my
shoulders, looming over me, and I wrapped my legs around him as he thrust again
and again.

“Griffin,” he growled from above me, the firelight washing
his skin in gold, his expression one of taut pleasure. “I love this. Say you’re
mine, like the card, please!”

“Yes.” I reached for my cock, shuddering at the friction.
“I’m yours, Ival. All yours.”

A grin shaped his gorgeous mouth, and he bent down. My spine
curved, but I was flexible enough to allow the kiss, and the feel of his cock
spreading me and his lips on mine proved too much for my unraveling control.

I groaned into his mouth, hot streams of come splashing my
chest as I convulsed around his cock. My pleasure seemed to infect him, and a
moment later, his back arched as he released into me.

For a long moment, we lay in a tangle of limbs, sticky and
sweet with pleasure. Then, with a sigh, he pulled free and stretched out beside
me on the throw.

“I love you, Griffin,” he whispered into my shoulder.

He’d spoken the words before, but I’d never get tired of
hearing them. Of knowing he cared for me as no one else ever had. I closed my
eyes and savored the moment, committing it to memory, so I’d have something to
hold on to in the lonely nights to come, when he inevitably left me behind.

And for an instant, I let myself believe that maybe it
wouldn’t have to end. That maybe, despite my unworthiness, we could build
something to last.

“I love you, too, Ival,” I said. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

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Other
books from Jordan L. Hawk:

Hainted

Whyborne & Griffin
series:

Widdershins

Threshold

Stormhaven

Necropolis
(May 2014)

SPECTR

Hunter of Demons

Master of Ghouls

Reaper of Souls

Eater of Lives

Destroyer of Worlds

Summoner of Storms
(July 2014)

Short stories

“Heart of the Dragon”

“After the Fall”
(in
the
Allegories of the Tarot
anthology)

“Eidolon” (Whyborne &
Griffin 1.5)

About
The Author

Jordan L. Hawk grew up in
the wilds of North Carolina, where her bootlegging granny raised her on stories
of haints and mountain magic. She might have follow in the family business, but
found herself unable to resist the lure of forbidden knowledge, and became an
archaeologist instead. After growing tired of mummy curses and ghastly
discoveries, she used a silver knife in the light of a full moon to summon her
true love and turned to spinning tales. She weaves together couples who need to
fall in love, then throws in some evil sorcerers and undead just to make sure
they want it bad enough. In Jordan’s world, love might conquer all, but it just
as easily could end up in the grave.

If you’re interested in
receiving Jordan’s newsletter and being the first to know when new books are
released, plus getting sneak peeks at upcoming novels, please sign up at her
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http://www.jordanlhawk.com
.

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