Genie Knows Best (14 page)

Her wetness slicked his fingers, and he used it to ease them inside her, entering her to the upward movement of his tongue, withdrawing on the down stroke, playing her like a one-woman orchestra. And, ah, the music to his ears when he pulled back a bit, gently blowing over the wet curls and aching center of her, and she begged him with a pleading, “Kal, please…”

She was pink and wet and throbbing for him, and Kal didn’t know how much longer he could last.

“
Do
I please you?” He kissed her, his tongue making a quick foray into her sweet center.

“Yes. But I…” She writhed, lifting her hips to his mouth.

But
? There was a but?

There certainly was. Hers. He slid his hands beneath her, cupping the butt that was every bit as perfect as the rest of her.

“Kal, please. I wish you’d make me come.”

Now that was a wish he needed no magic to fulfill. Tasting her, running his tongue around the swollen nub, his fingers working their own magic, he felt every tremor wrack her. Felt every beat of her pulse and the rising waves of sensation fill her.

She arched into his mouth, her hands fisting in his hair, then the sheets, then back to his hair, holding him in place, then trying to move him away when the sensations got to be too much. But he wasn’t going anywhere. After all, this was what she’d wished for.

His tongue delved into her passage, and then he drew it up under the tight bunch of nerves, drawing a long, shuddering breath from her. She wrapped her legs shoulders, her heels driving into his back as she offered herself for his pleasure. And hers. Most definitely hers.

Kal tongued her again, this time not withdrawing his fingers when he felt her muscles clench around them. He worked them in and out of her, drawing her release upon her.

She panted. She flung her head from side to side and tossed her arms over her head, grabbing the sheets and pulling them down, only to toss them off and grip his hair, one mass of feeling, panting, yearning, sensual woman, and gods, what her sounds—her need—did to him.

And then, with one last hitch to her breath, a moment suspended in time as she waited to exhale, Samantha came, pulsing against his mouth, his name on her lips a long, drawn-out, reverential litany. He stayed there, tonguing her, making her pleasure last as long as possible.

When she finally relaxed her legs enough that he could crawl up her body, Kal placed one last kiss on her curls, smiling as her body jerked in reaction, her nerve endings frayed enough that every little movement set them off.

So he kissed his way up her body, taking special care with her breasts, drawing the tightened mounds into his mouth—first one then the other then back again—as he positioned himself where he wanted to be, his aching cock brushing her moist entrance.

“Sam?” His voice hoarse with the strain of restraint, Kal had to make sure this was what she wanted. A genie—even one who was a lover—couldn’t take such liberties without permission. “Is this what you wish?”

A satisfied smile curled her lips as her eyes opened slowly. Sexy. “Oh, yes, Kal. This—you—are most definitely what I wish. But—”

But
? Dear gods, please don’t have her ask him to stop.

“What, Sam?”

“What about… you know. Protection?”

Kal smiled, thanking the cosmos, Karma, the High Master, and whoever else was responsible for genie magic being all the prevention they’d need.

Earning her smile with his explanation, Kal sank into the hot, wet center of her in one long, gods-given stroke, and this—Samantha—was more a paradise than the Garden of Eden.

She lifted her arms to his back, her nails lightly brushing his sweat-slicked skin, and she smiled a sated, lazy smile as she opened her eyes. “God, that feels so good.”

“Like it, do you?”

“You have no idea.”

His cock twitched inside her, earning a gasp. “Trust me, Sam. I do.”

She nibbled his shoulder, earning a grunt from him. “I like that, too, Kal. Very much.”

He kissed her nose. “And I like
you
very much.”

Her smile grew and her eyes sparkled with starlight. “I like you, too.”

“I certainly hope so, considering where I am at this moment.” He jerked his cock in case she didn’t notice.

Sam gasped, then smiled again. “I like where you are, too.”

“Good, because I don’t think I could move if you wished me to.”

“Oh, yes, you could.” She arched her back. “Move, Kal. You’ll enjoy every minute of it. Trust me.”

She arched again, and, damn, if she wasn’t right. She was
too
right, actually.

The blood rushed through him, his come roiling in his balls, threatening to end this moment before they’d really even begun.

He pulled out.

“Kal—”

He kissed her. “Shhh,” he said when he could catch his breath. “I’m not going anywhere. After all, I’m here to make all your wishes come true.”

Something shifted in her gaze as she stared at him. Something… profound? He didn’t know if that was the word for it, but beside the desire, there was something else. “Sam? Are you okay?”

“I will be, Kal. Just please… I wish you’d be inside me again.”

He didn’t want her to think this had anything to do with their genie/master status. Because it didn’t. This was between a woman and a man, permission and desire implicit in every stroke of her hand on his skin. Every gasp and nuzzle and kiss she made. Every look she gave him.

He kissed her again and she rose up to meet him, sucking his tongue into her mouth and wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, the hot, wet center of her calling to him. And then she shifted so the head of his cock was right there—

“Samanth… aaaha—”

He hissed out the rest of her name when she moved enough to take just the tip of him inside her. He cradled her head with both hands, his elbows taking his weight while his thumb traced her bottom lip, flicking inside as he surged into her.

She nipped at him, her teeth sliding along his skin, then she shifted beneath him, turning her head enough to take his thumb into her mouth, drawing on it every time her thighs tightened around him, and he wanted to grant her every wish—the sun, the moon, the stars, every part of himself if she’d only do that again.

Whoa
. Kal had to put the mental brakes on. This was too much. He’d had good sex before—okay,
phenomenal
sex before—but wanting to give her the moon and stars? He was in serious danger of losing himself here.

And then she raised her head and nibbled on his neck. “Make love to me, Kal.”

Kal stiffened. Love wasn’t a word in his vocabulary—in any genie’s vocabulary.

“I—” Samantha’s gaze flew to his. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I mean—”

“I know what you meant, Samantha.” And he did, but still…
Love
.

The word was his undoing, and he couldn’t even tell her why. Couldn’t tell her that love was a luxury genies couldn’t afford. Rarely were genies in The Service ever together long enough to form a bond and saying, “I love you,” to a mortal was out of the question.

He’d seen other genies do it, though. Understood the loneliness that caused them to, but after fighting for his freedom for two thousand years, Kal couldn’t give it up.

He could, however, give them both tonight.

He kissed her again, letting his tongue mimic the movements of his body, swirling it around hers when he gyrated his hips, and capturing her moan with his mouth. He brushed kisses along her throat and nuzzled the hollow of her neck, the lilac scent there heightening his own arousal.

Her skin slid against his, and her heels dug into his back.

She lifted herself and licked his chest, her nipples stroking him, and for the longest, sweetest moment, Kal forgot how to breathe. Then Samantha clenched him inside her body and his breath rushed out.

“That feels so good, Kal,” she whispered, her fingers swirling low on his back, drawing the response from his balls, and Kal gritted his teeth. He couldn’t hold out much longer. He thrust into her again. Then again.

Samantha gripped his backside, widening her legs, taking more of him in, deeper. Tighter. Hotter. Wetter.

She flexed her hips, and he slipped in deeper. Then she clenched him tightly, kissing him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, and he felt her start to come again.

Her release fueled his own, and Kal let it rush through him. He pounded into her, again and again, striving for that pinnacle that was just out of reach. One more surge should do—

No. Another. And another.

Samantha cried out his name, and that was the key. She tightened around him as she came, drawing his own orgasm from deep inside him, a hot geyser of need and want rushing through him into her, a moment of closeness so intimate, so real, so honest it was divine, and Kal thought he truly glimpsed heaven.

Time stopped. The world stopped. He swore his heart stopped, too. And for that moment, that long, amazing moment, Kal felt as if he’d found his true purpose in life.

Then her legs fell from around him, and the world rushed back in with all its sights and sounds and scents. And its reality.

His purpose, everything he was working toward, was to repair his reputation and take his rightful place in the hierarchy. This thing with Sam, it was just that… a thing. A really great thing. A sexy, heady, incredible thing, but a thing nonetheless. Mortals and genies were not a match made in heaven.

Her shallow, quick breathing slowed, and Kal tried to lessen his weight on her, but truthfully, though he knew he should find it, he didn’t have the strength to move.

And when she wrapped her arms around him, he didn’t have to.

Albert skulked beneath a low-hanging line of laundry in the dark alleyway, the lack of any street lighting and a low moon making skulking easy. But it also made it damn hard to figure out where that car had gone.

He flicked the crystal from one side of the street to the other, looking for traces of the genie, enjoying the unexpected, but wholly appreciated, bonus of having the crystal become a flashlight by capturing moonbeams, because his cell phone battery had died about an hour ago. He had to be careful to angle the light away from the windows since he’d inadvertently destroyed two, and only by the grace of God, or whatever passed for this world’s deity, had no one come running to investigate.

They were probably all off gambling, and what he wouldn’t do to get in on that action. But first things first. The genie, then world domination. Then he could gamble to his heart’s and wallet’s content.

But the crystal wasn’t picking up anything. Not a single trace that the genie had been here. For all he knew, the genie could have flown that car somewhere else because it was hard to see the skyline when he was working hard not to be seen.

He’d even almost run head first into a unicorn. A unicorn! If only he’d had something to capture it with and a way to transport it home… But as of now, the only transporting he was doing was a worthless crystal and dozens of objects weighing down his pants pockets. And the coin that now had about as much magic as his big toe. Which ached from all this walking.

“
Téigh i dtigh diabhail,
O’Malley! Watch yerself! Do ye think I’m made o’ gold?” The joyous sound of coins pinging on the pavement interrupted Albert’s thoughts, and he peered around the corner to see a line of glowing walking sticks illuminating a six-pack of leprechauns who were carrying slot machines and roulette wheels out of a building.

“I don’t get it, Festwick,” said the leprechaun with a buckle missing from his shoe. Must have been in the street fight.

Albert made a mental note to head back there and see how much gold he could clean up. Hedge his bets, so to speak, since he wasn’t having much luck with the genie.

He winced. Hedging hadn’t worked so well for him with Henley. But his luck had to break at some point, right?

He fingered the coin in his pants pocket. Some would say it already had; he just needed to capitalize on it.

“Why are we taking this stuff out? Aren’t we supposed t’ be spendin’ our time usin’ them instead o’ stealin’ them?”

“We’re not stealin’, O’Malley. We’re taking them to a more centrally located place. Where everra’one can use them.”

“You mean, where no one but us can make them work.”

“You takin’ issue with that?”

“No, but let’s call a spade a spade.”

“I prefer hearts, meself.”

“That’s ’cause you’re a softie. Give me a club any day.”

Albert leaned against the building. Much as he’d like to step out of the shadows and get in on whatever action those guys had going, that wouldn’t help the big picture. He’d be better served by hanging here and picking up whatever info they had on the genie.

“So what odds will ye give me on Bart gettin’ visitation rights for those dragonlets of his?”

Albert’s ears perked up. Visitation rights?

Dragonlets
?

“Well, first we gotta talk odds on them bein’ his in the first place, but six to one on visitation. Maille’s a cold-hearted witch and he did her wrong. She’ll no’ be givin’ in t’ him any time soon, I’m thinkin’. Barricaded the door t’ him—and in Dragon’s Blood Pass, that’s tough t’ do. Got the neighborhood in an uproar.”

The uproar a missing dragonlet would cause was what Albert was thinking about. Parents, no matter their species, were protective of their offspring, and
dragonlet
sounded small and manageable. Had to be, at least more than a unicorn was. If he could get one of them, the parents would do just about anything to get it back.

Including turning over the genie.

“Six to one? Yer on! That’s workin’ in my favor! Put me down for a peck o’ gold.”

“A peck? Funds a little low these days, eh, O’Malley?”

“Doona be worryin’ aboot me funds, Festwick. You’ll have yer money
if
I lose. Which I’m no’ countin’ on. Me money’s on Maille everra’time.”

“Yer
eye’s
on Maille, O’Malley. Always has been. What was it ye said aboot callin’ a spade a spade?”

“Doona start wi’ me, Festwick.”

“Jes pick up your machine, O’Malley, and let’s be done with this.”

Albert couldn’t wait for them to be done. Then he’d cross the street and head to this Dragon’s Blood Pass place, nab himself a baby dragon, and put it up for ransom.

Piece o’ cake, as his little green friends would say.