Rock Hard And Wet (BBW Paranormal Romance) (Nymphs Of New York) (7 page)

He slid the head in, and then held still
while he studied her face. “You have freckles.”

“Yep.” She wrapped her legs around his
hips and tried to pull him further inside.

“Slow down. I want to take my time.” He
slid one arm under her back and traced her cheekbones and nose, then her lips
with his free hand. She bit him, licked his finger, and kissed it. Their mouths
met, and he took control of the kiss, slowing her down to a gentle exploration
instead of the greedy hunger she tried to consume him with.

His tongue slipped into her mouth, and
with each plunge, he rocked his hips forward, easing his thick length in a
little further. When Callie attempted to take him deeper, he held her hips firm
to the bed, not willing to let her rush their lovemaking.

It seemed like forever, but finally his
cock filled and stretched her pussy with its full length. A shudder ran through
him from the crown of his head to his feet, and he released her hip. Her muscles
clenched around him and she struggled to remain still. Theo retreated and
thrust forward with a precise steady rhythm, his pelvic bone colliding with her
clit at the height of each movement. She planted her feet to the bed, clasped
her hands on his ass, and dug her nails in, the torture of the slow build up
almost too much. He pinched and rolled her nipples. Kissed her until she lost
all breath.

“Fuck, female.” His pace faltered and he
slammed into her, increased his speed until the sound of flesh hitting flesh
filled the room.

“Yes, Theo, hard.” She cupped his cheek,
sorrow for the pain haunting his eyes welling inside her. “Let go, whatever it
is. Let go.”

He buried his face in the crook of her
neck and jerked as his orgasm spilled his cum into her. She stroked his hair
and wrapped her arms and legs around him as his erection softened inside her.
The sticky wetness of blood clung to her forearms, the wounds in his back
weeping.

He shifted to the side, took his weight
off her torso, and covered his eyes with his arm. “I don’t want to hurt you,
Callie.”

“You didn’t.” She touched his bicep, but
he flinched away. “Come shower with me.”

“No, you go ahead. I’ll get one after
you.”

Confusion swamped her, followed closely
by hurt. “Okay, well, how about after we both shower, we get something to eat.
I’m starved.”

When he didn’t respond, she scooted off
the bed and stood on wobbly legs. “The invitation’s still open, if you change
your mind.”

A shred of the blanket from the bed
rested on the floor near her foot. She gathered it up, draping it around her
body toga style. The rejection hurt more than her pride. The muscles in her
chest over her solar plexus ached, tight with misery and a choking ball of
sadness. She’d taken everything he’d given, but he didn’t want to accept what
she offered in return.

Booker’s words played over and over in his head, an endless loop
he couldn’t turn off. They drowned out the shower running in the bathroom. His
thoughts turned briefly to her naked, water sluicing over her large, full
breasts and the dips and curves of her soft belly. Blood rushed to his groin
and his dick stirred despite the sorrow and guilt plaguing him.

You cannot protect
anyone.

He rolled onto his back, the
reverberation of the peasant girl Sonja’s screams playing though his head. The
events happened so long ago across the ocean. The memories had become faded,
and he’d managed to push them largely from his mind. Until last night. Booker’s
words overshadowed the beating.

If Callie stayed with him, she might
die. Without his wings and the constant problem his wounds represented, he
wasn’t at his peak physically—outcast from his aerie, half crippled, and easy
pickings for any number of other supernatural beings. The grotesques tended to
make enemies, and when your foes possessed friends and relatives who lived for
hundreds or even thousands of years, the danger could come from any direction.

Instead of the fury Booker had probably
meant to incite with the news Logan witnessed Sonja’s death, Theo felt only
grief for his brother. For the grotesques, losing an innocent under their guard
was one of the worst things imaginable. And Logan had been ordered to sit by
and watch as she’d been attacked and killed.

He couldn’t find any room in his heart
for anger with Logan. If his brother had disobeyed Booker—and thereby the rest
of the Elders—his punishment would have been even worse than Theo’s. Expulsion
from the aerie, not even allowed to exist on the fringes of the grotesque’s
society. It also would have left Theo without the protection he needed while
his Censure kept him trapped in his hunting form as little more than a piece of
statuary. Logan transported him from place to place, spoke to him every day—the
sound of his twin’s voice pulled him back from the brink of madness many times.

Theo realized that for all his hundreds
of years of punishment, what Logan had endured was much, much worse. And all
because Theo’d followed his heart and fallen in love with a human. Of course
his youth and inexperience had been part of the problem. He’d been new to the
patrolling arm of his aerie and arrogant. The surge in his powers that
accompanied his transition to adulthood left him with a false sense of
confidence. He’d been so sure if a problem arose, he’d be able to return to his
perch and stop it.

Relationships with humans weren’t
absolutely forbidden, but they were frowned upon. And yet he’d insisted on
keeping her. Sonja. He’d failed the people under his protection. A small band
of outlaws swept into his section of the city, pillaging and setting fire to
the buildings. So many injured and left homeless.

The shower turned off, and he rolled
into a sitting position. Sorrow threatened to swallow him. Succumbing to
Callie’s charms had been a mistake, but the real problem lay in his actions
following their tryst in the alley. She should never have accompanied him to
his home. The nymph’s presence should have been reported to the aerie as a
potential cause for concern. He should have kept up his vigil on the edges of
Logan’s watch territory. Even as he was without his wings, humans stood little
chance against him in a physical confrontation.

But other supernaturals posed a problem.
Once again, he considered Callie and the danger she was in just by being around
him. Booker was right, if she stayed with him, she would die. He’d never hurt
her on purpose, but he didn’t have to. Enemies of the aerie waited for a
weakness to exploit. And Callie would make the perfect hostage.

He had to get rid of her before things
became worse.

He surged to his feet, shrugged into his
jeans, and padded into the living room. The skin on his back itched from dried
blood and the as yet uncured cement on his wounds. Gods, what kind of impulsive
idiot was he, making love to the female with bleeding gouges on his back. Why
she hadn’t left in disgust, he’d never understand.

Making love? Shit, he had it bad. She’d
wormed her way into his heart in less than twenty-four hours and carved out a
corner for herself.

The door to the bathroom opened, and she
emerged in a swirling cloud of steam. Drops of water spun and danced through
the air in front of her, coiled up her legs and over her bare arms. She carried
the scarf she’d worn yesterday in one hand and clutched a towel to her chest
with the other. The magnificent waves of her hair hung down her back in a blue
curtain.

When they made eye contact, his resolve
wavered. The brilliant gold of her irises were dulled to a tarnished copper.
They stared at each other for moments that stretched on until he turned away.

He caught her posture changing out of
the corner of his eye, saw her shoulders slump and the steam around her
disperse into nothing. A few short steps took him to the couch, and he
retrieved the bag of clothing he’d purchased for her that morning to replace her
ruined skirt and top.

“Here. I bought these for you.” He
thrust the package at her and retreated to the windows on the far side of the
room. She accepted the bag, confusion clear in her features.

The rustle of the plastic and her
surprised gasp reached his sensitive ears. The part of him she’d managed to
invade smiled despite the tumult bombarding him. He had to end this, now,
before it got any worse.

“Theo, thank you. This dress is
beautiful.”

A shadowy reflection in the glass
revealed Callie dropping her towel and shimmying into the long cotton garment.
The simple lines complimented her height. He’d chosen a blue-green color on
impulse with a halter top that tied around the nape of the neck. Unable to
control himself, he pivoted and looked his fill, memorizing the way the fabric
clung to her hips and hugged her breasts. The tone of the dress matched some of
the streaks in her hair.

She tugged her heavy tresses over one
shoulder and wrapped the simple ties at the waist around her back, and then
made a bow with them in the front.

“What do you think?” Callie twirled in a
quick circle and the garment flared out to expose her calves and knees.

“I think you’re lovely.” The gravel in
his voice almost swallowed the words. He cleared his throat. “There’s something
else in the bag as well.”

She opened the handles wider, peering
into the bag and gasping before extracting the small gift he’d bought her. Callie
slid the sterling silver and gold bracelet around her bicep and turned to
present her profile to him. The oval shaped turquoise stone in the center of
the simple design matched yet another tone in her hair.

He’d never see blue again, anywhere,
without comparing it to her.

“This is gorgeous.” The force of her hug
nearly knocked him over. He patted her lower back, afraid to return the embrace
fully. If he took her in his arms, he’d never be able to let her go.

“It’s nothing. I ruined your clothes.” A
small step back detached her grip. “I’m going to shower. You can help yourself
to anything you find in the fridge.”

She frowned and picked at her skirt,
then twisted her hair around her fist. “Okay.”

He cussed himself out the entire ten
minutes he spent in the shower. The water beat on his back and stung like a son
of a bitch, but he figured he deserved it for what he was about to do.

The expression on Callie’s face over her
dress, and the way the flow of fabric highlighted her body enticed him, draping
over her but giving hints at the gorgeous body beneath almost catapulted him
over the edge. Purchasing the jewelry had been a mistake. He’d never learn, but
her joy over such a simple gift made the lapse in judgment worthwhile. When
he’d spotted it in the store, all he’d been able to think was how it would
complement her beauty.

He wrapped a towel around his hips and
avoided his reflection in the mirror.

He listened at the door for a moment and
picked up the distinct sound of pencil on paper. She must be drawing again. He
sucked in a deep breath to steel his nerves and strode into his bedroom. The
whisper of her charcoal paused then resumed out in the living room. The pull
handle on the dresser drawer where he kept his socks broke off in his hand. It
took far less time to clothe himself than he would have liked.

A second of concentration connected him
to his brother on their private telepathic link.

“Brother, I did not
know the aerie forced you to witness Sonja’s death. I am sorry. I hope you can
forgive me.”

“Theo? What are you
about to do?”

“What I must.”

He cut off the link before his brother
could argue with him and worked to keep their link closed.

When he entered the living room, Callie was
perched cross-legged on the couch with her sketch book in her lap. A bright
grin lit her face when she spotted him.

“You have to leave, Callie.”

Her grin faltered and died. She closed her
fist around her drawing implement. “Why? I thought you wanted—”

“What I want is for you to leave.” He
crossed his arms and tucked his hands beneath his elbows. The wounds on his
shoulders broke open and began to weep blood from the harsh movement. “Now.”

“But—”

Her eyes grew wide and a sheen of tears
appeared in them. Pain speared his chest, but he forced his face into an
expression of contempt and sneered at her. “This is my home. And you’re
unwelcome. Leave, now.”

She untucked her legs and stood with one
hand still curled around her sketchbook and charcoal. “Why did you buy me this
dress? This bracelet? If you didn’t want me around?”

“I told you, I ruined your clothes, so I
replaced them. As for the jewelry, well, I thought it would be gauche to leave money
on the bedside table for you.”

She gasped and dropped the notebook. “I
cannot believe you just said that to me.”

He widened his stance, hating himself
for every second of this, and yet he knew it was necessary. If he loved her, he
had to let her go. “Why not? Nymphs are nothing more than the biggest whores in
the supernatural community. Everyone knows it.”

“Theo.” Tears tracked over her cheeks.
“This isn’t you.”

“How would you know? You’ve known me for
less than a day.” Holding her gaze almost killed him. She had to believe him,
had to leave before he got her killed.

"For a thousand years, I was one
among many. A jewel that sparkled only because of the light reflected from the
diamonds around it. But when you look at me, I feel like the brightest star in
the heavens." She blinked to clear the tears filling her eyes and swiped at
her face. Black smears coated her cheeks, transferred by the dust coating
her hands.

He strode to the door and opened it
without speaking, anguish threatening to drown him.

"Theo?"

If he didn't get rid of her now, she'd
suffer the consequences. Callie needed someone who could keep her safe.
Protected. Adored. The dual wounds on his back flared in pain, white hot as the
roots of his wings tried to burst through the cement that encased them. Even
his body fought him, trying to regrow wings despite the impossibility of the
task. If he had his wings, he’d be able to protect her.

Grotesques watched over the weak. Kept
them from harm. Fought evil. He'd failed at the only thing his species valued,
and this was the continuing punishment he had to endure—an empty, lonely
existence where he was only half the male he should be.

Arm extended fully, teeth ground together against the whipping
lash of pain in his back, he pointed to the hallway. "Get out."