One Handsome Devil (5 page)

Cute wasn't a word she would normally have associated with a six-foot plus demon with a build that a human would spend years in the gym trying to cultivate. If she stretched it, his little horns might be classified as cute. If he combed his hair right, they probably wouldn't be visible at all. Folded down or not, his bat wings weren't cute. What they were was interesting. Were they fully functional, she wondered? Could he pick her up in those strong arms and fly across Dallas like Superman with Lois Lane in the old movies? That would be sexy, not cute.

What made Jack really attractive, she realized, went beyond the physical. Demon or not, he was the only male she'd ever known who would really listen when she talked, who acted like she mattered not because she was a potential sex partner, but because she had something special to say. He might sulk a little, but Jack didn't seem to think it was his god-given right to have her fall at his feet. Tempting though that might be.

Jack stared at the hardwood floor for a moment, a faint gleam in his eye. His hand blurred as he raised it over his head, then plunged it into the floor.

The oak planks shattered at his touch, but his hand splashed back, burning with more of the blue sparks. “Damn."

"It isn't that easy to escape your fate,” Sara told him. “I'm resolved to bear up to mine. Maybe you should do the same."

"Don't get philosophical on me. Just let me go."

"I've heard that demons make great lovers. Why don't you show me."

Jack shook his head. Could his sapphire-blue eyes actually hold regret? “Demons do
not
make good lovers."

"How come?” With a body like his and the male equipment barely hidden under his leather pants, Jack would turn female heads in a convent.

"We make lousy lovers because we hurt our partners. Not just emotionally. Physically."

A little physical pain went a long way for Sara. “Are you just saying that?"

"I told you I couldn't lie."

"But why?"

"We lose control.” He cast his eyes around the room, searching for something. Finally he spotted a quartz crystal she had picked up during a visit to Arkansas. “Is that rock important to you?"

"Not particularly."

"May I have it?"

She picked it up and started to hand it to him, then stopped. “You want me to reach inside the wards, don't you?"

"Let's just say I have mixed feelings."

She tossed him the crystal. It passed through the glowing ward without slowing.

Jack caught the stone, stared at it, then squeezed his hand together.

Powdered crystal sifted through his fingers, the dust sprinkling onto the floor.

"That was not difficult,” he explained. “Imagine what would happen to your body if I lost control, even for a moment. Do you dare trust me to stay in control of myself?"

"Hum?” Sara stared at the small mound of sand on the floor of Jack's star-shaped cage. Even if she wasn't looking for forever, could a demon who couldn't be sexual without ripping her to shreds really be her perfect mate? But was Jack right about his control? Could he be exaggerating the danger?

"I'm not exaggerating,” he told her.

She started, then glared at him. She'd have to get used to the mind-reading thing.

"I have a low tolerance for emotion,” he continued. “I get drunk on it."

Sara wanted to run but the smallest sag in Jack's shoulders stopped her. He looked like he hated this part of himself as much as she did. She wracked her brain, hoping for a storm. “Maybe you need to build up your resistance. How long has it been between lovers?"

"Hundreds of years,” Jack admitted. “I didn't like the cleanup afterwards. Even if you're right though, how many women would you want to sacrifice until I have built up enough resistance to control my urges? Do you have any friends you want to volunteer?"

The wards glowed a brighter, paler blue as he leaned toward her. His eyes pierced into her soul, daring her to answer the question he must be thinking was as difficult as the riddle of the sphinx.

"Hum?” The seeds of a terribly enticing idea started percolating through Sara's brain. “Perhaps you need
assistance
in keeping your control."

"I'm not—” Jack broke off when he caught her eyes. “No. That's impossible."

"It really isn't that different from where you are now."

"Tying me down to your bed and having your way with my body is a very bad idea."

The wards pinned Jack's arms and legs to the four corners of the bed, their strength holding the bed together, preventing him from using his strength to simply rip the iron headboard into scrap metal.

"Are you comfortable?” Sara's voice was soft and throaty.

"Demons are never comfortable."

She reached into a bowl and removed a large chunk of ice. “I thought you might want to cool down."

The fires that burned him came from inside rather than without, but he didn't protest when she brought the fist-sized ice crystal to his chest.

"I'm a little afraid of what we're doing,” Sara confessed.

He read her, learning that none of her three previous lovers had ever allowed her to control the pace of their lovemaking. For better or, most likely, worse, that would change tonight.

"Be afraid,” he urged. “It isn't too late to stop.” Desire racked his body and cursed him for a fool in arguing against what she wanted, what he wanted.

"Don't spoil it."

She slid the ice across his chest, down the ridges of his abdomen. Sara was breathing a little faster now and her own heat flushed her face. “It melts so fast."

"My body temperature is higher than yours.” Jack intended to speak calmly but the sensations of Sara's warm soft fingers mixed with those from the cold hard ice to create an experience he'd never felt before, never considered even possible. He ended his sentence in a gasp as she brought the ice to the line created by his pants and ran it across his lower abdomen.

"You like it,” Sara breathed. “Why not admit it?” She felt empowered, he knew. Well, she should. Her wards held him as if he was the weakest imp.

"Maybe,” he admitted.

"Do you bite?"

"Maybe,” he repeated.

"Let's find out.” She brought her lips down, brushing against his own, then passing to blow lightly into his ear.

A tremor wrenched his body as his instincts warred with his control. He could still command his body, but barely. Sara's actions, her pure appeal, endangered both of them. No one, human or demon, had ever aroused him so completely.

"Stay calm.” She breathed the words into his ear. The combination of sound and touch sharpened his need.

His erection swelled, aching to be free from the confining pants. He signaled his body to loose some of his pent-up heat to burn them off, leave him naked. No response except a brightening of the blue wards that held him to the bed. She'd warded against his magic as well.

Sara looked at him disappointed. “You are straining against the wards. Do I have to tighten them?"

"Don't toy with me,” he warned. “I won't always be tied to your bed."

Sara laughed. “Maybe you're right. I'd better take advantage of the situation while I can."

She ran her tongue down his neck. “Umm, you taste good."

She smelled good. Only it was more than just a scent. She might be playing at wickedness now, but Sara was anything but evil. Jack inhaled her goodness, at war with himself between the pain it caused and its brief reminder of long-denied heaven.

Sara cut off Jack's melancholy thoughts by kissing him.

This kiss started with a brush of lips against lips, but she didn't move on as she had before. Instead, she deepened the touch, pressing harder against his lips, nibbling at them with her teeth.

Without thought, he opened his mouth. Did he intend to speak, to protest, to bite? He wasn't even sure himself. Then it didn't matter. Sara seized her moment of advantage and plunged her tongue into his own mouth.

His own tongue met hers, thrusting against it, then yielding again. She tasted of strawberries and nature and earth.

A splash touched his face. He opened his eyes without knowing they had been shut and watched another tear fall from her eye and strike his cheek. “You kiss beautifully,” she told him.

"Did I hurt you?"

"I'm hurting myself."

He couldn't argue with that. He was the tool in her self-destruction. Now, though, he'd passed his limits. He didn't want her to stop. Instead, he wanted, needed, this sexual union. He craved her even more painfully because he knew she could never give him more than a brief respite from the agony. Human women didn't give themselves to demons. They had to be tricked. But not Sara. Sara had shed tears for him. It was clearly impossible. “I'm sorry,” he said.

"Oh don't be sappy.” She kissed him again, hard but without opening her mouth to let his tongue retrace its exploration.

She pulled away, her amber eyes stared into his own, then traced the form of his body spread-eagled on her bed.

"I'm wondering why you are still wearing your pants."

Sara's hands trembled as she slid her sewing scissors up the hem of his pants and snipped.

Jack jerked, moving so quickly she almost lost her grip on the leather fabric. Had she hurt him? A terrible though occurred to her. “These aren't part of you, are they?"

Jack laughed. She loved it when he laughed. It made him more human, somehow, and yet more perfect as well.

"They're just clothes, like you're wearing."

The hint was a little broad but she ignored it. Sara felt more comfortable with the idea of a naked demon in her bed than she did with her own nudity. Her previous lovers had mocked her slender figure. Would Jack be disappointed?

The swelling beneath his leather pants gave her hope that Jack would find her exciting despite her limited assets.

She eased the scissors up and snipped again.

His legs trembled against her touch as she moved the scissors up again.

"Do you need more ice?"

"No.” He almost croaked the answer.

"I think you do. But I need to finish this first.” She did need to. If she stopped, she knew she couldn't continue. She'd never been the aggressor, never demanded that a man satisfy
her
needs. Instead, men had their way, then rolled over and went to sleep. Jack wouldn't roll anywhere until she was ready.

Sara gave the scissors one more cut, then slid the sharp blades up the leg in a continuous ripping tear.

His right leg lay completely bared. It wasn't hairy, which surprised her a little, but it was fully muscled, glowing with heat. A pulse beat in an artery across the top of his thigh.

She bent and kissed the pulse where it throbbed. Did demons have blood? From the heat, Jack could have liquid fire flowing through his body.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his excitement stretching a tent of the remnants of his pants.

"You like that, don't you?” she asked.

"I am not immune to pleasure."

She reached into the ice bucket and selected another frozen block. “Let me know if this hurts."

"You can't hurt me.” Did his voice sound regretful? Surely that didn't make sense.

"Good.” She pressed the ice to the artery, then traced its path up his thigh toward Jack's still-covered hips.

"Oh, Sara.” Had he named her before? She didn't think so. She liked the way her name sounded on his lips.

She knew their's was a physical thing. Jack was right about their lack of a future together, but she was a woman. She wanted to at least pretend there was something more here.

Her hand rested on his upper thigh only inches from where his arousal beckoned. The entire cube had melted. As she watched, the water evaporated from Jack's hot skin.

With one hand, Sara reached for another cube. With the other, for his erection.

"Oh, yes.” The words seemed to drag themselves from Jack's unwilling mouth.

"Oh my.” If she'd harbored any remaining doubts about him being a man in a costume, they were gone now. If the rest of his body was warm, his erection burned. If the rest of his body was large and well formed, his penis was huge and, perfect.

"I'm not sure—"

"You can stop.” Jack's expression warred with his words. He didn't want her to stop. That was obvious. Did she dare continue? She wasn't playing with a toy. She was handling something powerful, something that could hurt her.

She brought the hand with the ice to his scrotum, then pressed her lips to the head.

Jack groaned the agony, or excitement.

Jack's hips bucked in desire and need, making her wish she could please all of him with her mouth.

"Save that for when you need it,” she urged.

"Trust me, it will be there."

She straddled his hips pressing the dampness of her jeans against his hardness and ran her hands down his chest. Her grandmother had claimed that demons were angels, banished from heaven. Jack looked like a tortured angel.

He groaned, then arched his back, pressing his hips against hers, ignoring the shower of sparks from the wards she'd set to keep him from moving. His eyes darkened, the star in its pupil elongating like that of a cat.

"Take off your clothes."

She wasn't sure if he was ordering or begging. Either way, she didn't intend to let him take command.

"You'll never learn control if you rush,” Sara reminded him.

"I'll never learn control around a woman like you. You must be part demon yourself."

"You wouldn't say that if you'd met my parents.” From what she could remember, they had been as sexually repressed a pair as possible. From what she'd seen, her birth was something of a miracle. Certainly she'd never been blessed by siblings.

"You're beautiful,” he told her.

Sara's hands trembled as she unbuttoned her blouse. Would he laugh? If he did, she was going to take her old boyfriend Ralph's advice and get her breasts operated on.

Jack's eyes darkened further until she could barely distinguish the difference between black pupil and midnight blue iris. “So beautiful,” he repeated as she slid the blouse down her arms.

He wet his lips—an instinctive gesture she could tell he hadn't intended.