Hurricane (Last Call #2) (2 page)

Another trembling ripple of power from
downstairs made the choice for him. He strode to the office door,
determined to save his club from absolute destruction.

Fiona groaned as the fourth wizard shot off
the dance floor, driven away by the strength of the curse that
bound her.  “God damn it all, anyway.”

A soft hiss behind her drew her attention,
and she spun to find a handsome blond man watching her.  A
smile curled the corners of his mouth, and his eyes flashed red for
a split second.

An incubus.  Jesus
Christ.
  His kind fed on sexual
energy, and God knew she had it to spare.  Fiona trembled as
she considered it.  A demon might be able to slip past the
curse, might be able to make her come without blowing Manhattan off
the map. 
And if he gets
greedy…

He could kill her.  But she was getting
desperate.

Fiona took a step toward him, still swaying
to the pounding beat of the music.  Then a strong, tattooed
hand curled around her arm, stopping her, and she found herself
looking up into a pair of dark, intense eyes.

He looked exotic, but the words he spoke
were clipped, unaccented English. “A demon is not a good cure for a
curse.”

“
Oh yeah?”  The power
coursing off of the man intoxicated her even more than the
expensive rum singing through her veins.  Fiona stepped closer
and stroked his chest through the thin cotton of his T-shirt. 
“The last time I tried to get myself off, it rained toads in my
apartment.”  She laughed and pressed her body to his. 
“That makes it one hell of a curse, baby.”

Strong hands skated down her back to cup her
ass, and he dragged her up his body until her eyes were level with
his.  “You wanted my attention, sweetheart.  Now you have
it.  What are you going to do with it?”

It took a moment for his words to penetrate
the fog in her brain.  “Uh-uh. No way are you D’Cruze.”

“
Really?”  The rest of
the bar faded away as power wrapped around her, making her entire
body tingle.  She felt his lips against her ear as his fingers
tightened on her ass.  “Then why can I do this without your
curse blowing the hell out of my bar?”  His teeth closed on
her earlobe.

The knot of heat inside her burst into
raging flame.  Fiona couldn’t stop the low cry that slipped
out of her, or the plea that followed it.  “I need it,” she
rasped.  “Can you get past it without getting hurt?  Can
you fuck me?”

“
Oh, yes. I can get past
your curse.”  He lowered her again, setting her down on
unsteady feet. “Maybe, given time, I could even break it.” 
She caught a glimpse of a wicked smile before his fingers curled
around her arms and tugged her away from the dance floor. 
“But first, we’re getting you away from my very, very expensive
bar.”

She caught sight of Jenn at the edge of the
floor and waved as they headed toward the back of the bar. 
“I’m Fiona.”

“
Mmm.”  A gigantic
bouncer moved aside as they approached, opening a small door she
hadn’t even realized was there.  On the other side lay a short
service hallway with a single elevator at the end.  His hand
dropped to her lower back in a possessive gesture as he urged her
forward.  “You can call me Ben.”

His warm fingers brushed the strip of
exposed skin above her jeans, and she shivered.  The
fluorescent lighting in the hallway flickered.  “Ben.” 
It was equally easy to imagine whispering it in his ear or
screaming it into a pillow.  “Nice to meet you, Ben.”

The elevator had no buttons, just a flat
screen next to it.  Ben laid his hand on it, and a moment
later the doors slid open with a soft chime. “Who did you piss off,
Fiona?  Who did you make furious enough to curse you so
viciously?”

“
My ex-boyfriend,” she
answered lightly as she stepped into the elevator and leaned
against one wall.  “Five years ago. I call him Robbie the
Jackass.  He thought he owned me, and I thought he was
wrong.  He took it badly.”

“
So it seems.”  The
doors shut silently as he pressed his hand to a second screen on
the inside.  A tiny jolt was the only indication they’d
started moving.  “Robert Carmichael, was it?”

“
That’s him.” 
Thinking about her ex squashed her buzz like a bug.  “It was
all very romantic, I suppose.  Two artists in a Tribeca
loft.  Turns out, twenty-seven was a little long in the tooth
for his tastes. I was supposed to look the other way while he
explored greener, more supple pastures.”  She looked away with
a snort.  “No, thanks.”

He studied her with a slightly amused
look.  “Five years without satisfaction, and before that you
were wasting yourself on an old man.  No wonder the curse took
hold so strongly.  It feeds on sexual frustration, you know…
and I imagine he provided you with plenty of that.”

“
So, if I hadn’t been so
averse to stepping out on my boyfriend, I might not be in this
mess?”  Fiona laughed and stepped closer, eyeing him through
the fringe of her expertly curled lashes.  “I guess nice women
really do finish last.”

“
If you hadn’t stayed with
an asshole who couldn’t begin to satisfy you, you might not be in
this mess.”  He lifted a finger to trace along her jaw, then
down the vulnerable line of her throat.  “I don’t usually fuck
the people who come to my bar, you know.  Not even the ones
who are so obviously in need of it.”

The slight but deliberate caress of his
fingertip over her skin kick started her libido again, and she let
her head fall back with a quiet moan.  “So why didn’t you tell
me to get lost?”

“
You were tearing my bar
apart.”  The touch moved lower, skating over her
collarbone.  “And none of those wizards were going to stop
you.”

He’d been watching her.  She rose up on
the toes of her boots and brushed her lips across his throat. 
“But you are.”  It wasn’t a question.

He chuckled, a low sound that shot straight
through her.  “Five.”

Fiona leaned back and arched an
eyebrow.  “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“
Five,” he repeated. 
His hand snuck around the back of her neck and curled in her
hair.  “That’s how many times I’ll have to make you come
before the curse is weak enough to break, I think.”

At that point, begging started to seem like
a valid option.  She settled for melting against him with a
throaty moan.  “Why would you break it?  As a
favor?  Or something else?”

His fingers tightened painfully and he
wrenched her head back.  “Is that the sort of man you
prefer?  A man who would barter your sanity for sexual
servitude?”

She should have been alarmed.  Instead,
she licked her lips and wiggled closer.  “Nothing
personal.  I just think some questions should be asked --
and answered -- up front.  That way no one gets
confused.”

“
I’ll break the curse
because it’s wrong.”  He didn’t release her hair, but his
other hand slid down the front of her body and inched its way
beneath her pants, then into her panties.  “And I’ll make you
come because you want it.”

“
I want it.”  It was
an unbelievable understatement, but Fiona could think of nothing
else to say as his fingers slipped over her pussy, delving into the
wetness his touch had elicited from her body.  She eased her
head up until she could stare into his eyes.  “I want
you.”  The truth of the words shocked her.  She wanted to
believe he could have been anyone, and she’d have reacted the same
way in her need to have someone fuck her.  But she
wanted
him
.

His fingers slid over her clit in a slippery
circle as lust flooded his eyes.  It filled the space between
them, and she felt that familiar pressure, the one that tightened
painfully and burst just before everything went to hell. The light
overhead exploded in a shower of sparks and glass and the elevator
ground to a screeching halt.

He bent over her to shield her from the
falling shards.  They both cursed, and she rested her forehead
against his chest and laughed mirthlessly. “Welcome to the last
five years of my life, Ben.”

“
Poor thing.”  He
slipped his hand free and wrapped both arms around her. “I suppose
we’ll have to do this the other way.”

“
The… other
way?”

“
Close your
eyes.”

She smiled and did as he asked, another
shiver running through her. “Promise me you won’t let me blow up
your apartment.”

He whispered something against her hair, low
and impossible to understand. For one endless second she felt as if
she’d stuck her finger in a light socket.  Magical energy tore
through her, setting every nerve ablaze in something that could
have been pain or pleasure -- it was impossible to tell which.

Just as quickly it was over.  Ben
released her and she opened her eyes to find herself in a large,
luxuriously-appointed bedroom dominated by a king-sized bed. 
“That’s better.”

Everything had been decorated in warm, dark
colors, from the furniture to the artwork that hung on the
walls.  Fiona was surprised to recognize several of the
paintings as museum-quality pieces.  “Did you pick these out
yourself?”

“
Yes.”

“
You have a good
eye.”

He stepped behind her, pressing his chest to
her back as his hands came around to slide under her shirt and
across her stomach.  “You said you’re an artist?”

She leaned her head back on his shoulder and
covered his hands with hers.  “I’m a sculptor.”  She
urged his hands a bit higher and shuddered.  “How is this
going to work?”

He caught her hands and guided them up until
her fingers were locked around the back of his neck.  “First I
find out how strong the curse is.”  His hands tickled the
inside of her arms as he traced back down.  He cupped her
breasts and laughed low in his throat.  “I might have to…
provoke you a little.”

“
Or a lot.”  Her
nipples hardened under the lace and silk she wore.  She arched
her back, captivated by the heat of his body wrapped around hers,
by the musky, masculine scent of him.  The pressure built
along with her arousal, and Fiona groaned.  “It’s starting,
Ben --”

One hand left her body and twisted in the
air in front of her.  A moment later the walls started to
glow, as if the entire room had been painted in a thin sheen of
power.  Behind her, Ben hissed in a sharp breath and curled
his hand into a fist.  “My God, this curse is strong.”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears, and she
made a frustrated noise.  “‘Dark’ is usually what I
hear.”  Dark and unbreakable.  If the legendary Benito
D’Cruze couldn’t defeat it…  “It’s okay.  You don’t have
to do this.”

“
I know.”  His breath
tickled her neck, and he opened his hand again.  Power
gathered around them so fast she felt it against her skin, like a
soft, warm breeze.  Her hair tickled at her cheeks as the
invisible strands of magic swirled around them.  This time
when he closed his fist, the walls burst into incandescent light, a
wall of sheer magical energy.

Ben’s hand returned to her
stomach, still warm from the power he’d gathered. “There. 
Nothing that happens will leave this room, and your curse isn’t
strong enough to hurt
me
.”

He sounded so sure.  Fiona let go of
his neck and reached down to untie her wraparound shirt.  “I’m
glad.”  The scarlet-colored silk fell open, revealing the
skimpiest bra she owned.

“
Now, now.”  His hands
caught hers again.  “No distracting me, or I’m going to blow
us
both
into tiny
little pieces.”  He shifted his hands to her shoulders and
turned her slightly, until they faced a full length mirror on the
wall next to a mahogany dresser.

In the mirror, she saw the
dark glint of desire in his eyes as he pulled her shirt slowly from
her body.  “I’m going to do things to you that Robert
Carmichael couldn’t begin to imagine.  And when you can’t take
it anymore, when you’re truly satisfied for the first time in
years…”  He pinched her taut nipple through her bra and
watched her in the mirror as she gasped. “I’m going to break your
curse.  And then I’m going to let
you
fuck
me
.”

His low, confident words were as maddening
as his hands.  Her knees weakened, and she sagged into his
embrace.  “It’s a deal.  But you might have to tie me
down.”  Even now, her hands itched to stroke his skin.

“
No.  I won’t have
to.”  Her shirt hit the floor and he reached around to undo
the clasp between her breasts, freeing them without touching
them.  The cool air whispered across them, tightening her
nipples, and he laughed softly as he lifted her arms above her
head.  “Was Robert so uncreative with his power?”