Stone Angel (11 page)

“Hmmm…” he said.

“What?” She was breathing hard. “What’s the
matter?”

“Not a thing, darlin’, I was just wondering
how I could get better access to your pussy. Do you know how many
ways there are for a man and woman to have sex?”

She shook her head.

“Leave it to me. I’ll show you.”

“Tonight?” Her voice squeaked.

He laughed warmly. “No rush, my darlin’.
We’ve got our whole lives.”

“We do?” He sounded so confident.

Nodding his head, he said, “Indeed, we
do.”

“So you think” — she pulled in a long,
tremulous breath — “that tomorrow we’ll save Sophia and vanquish
the Sculptor?”

“For the chance to make love to you every
night, I could win a battle against all the Others and take down
Osgood's building with my own bare hands.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed.

Gently he reached up to touch her cheek. “I
can see Sophia, running barefoot through a vineyard in Italy, the
sun on her cheeks, her dark hair streaming out behind her, while
you watch her and laugh for joy. Yes, we’re going to save Sophia.
Never doubt that for a minute. We will succeed.”

He sounded so sure of himself that she
believed him. Her last doubts fell away. And when he seated himself
on the sturdy wooden desk chair and patted the arms, she put first
one foot, then the other, up as he instructed. “Lean back,” he
whispered.

Slowly she lowered herself until her spine
pressed against the cool wood.

She was so vulnerable.

And yet she trusted him. She believed in
him.

He took his time, tasting her deeply and more
deeply. He lingered, sucked, kissed.

She put her hands over her head, clutched the
edge of the desk, stretched and moaned. She kneaded the wooden arms
of the chair with her toes. She was ready. So ready. She moved her
hips in rhythm, pressing her lips against his mouth and tongue.

“Liam, please. Please.” Amanda wasn’t above
pleading for release. Stars began to explode behind her eyes.

Liam slid a finger into her slickness,
pressing upward to find her g-spot, lightly grazing her clit with
his thumb.

Amanda climaxed once. Twice. She cried out as
he slid his finger in and out, using his thumb all the while,
extending her pleasure.

Now Liam kissed his way slowly up her body,
stopping to gently graze her hip with his teeth.

She jumped slightly, her need igniting
again.

“
Liam, I
want you inside of me.” Immediately, Amanda was embarrassed.
Where did that come
from
? But it was true.
She wanted to feel him filling her, she wanted to bring him
pleasure.

Liam grinned wolfishly against her skin. “As
you wish, darlin’.”

Leaning down, he fished a condom out of his
jeans pocket. He tore the foil and rolled the condom onto his cock.
Supporting her head and back, he helped her sit up on the edge of
the desk, and readjusted her shaky legs farther toward the ends of
the chair handles.

She started too withdraw. She felt too …
exposed.

But he knew. Somehow he knew, for he wrapped
one of his strong arms around Amanda’s shoulders, pressed his palm
against her shoulder blades, and brought her breasts forward and up
into his mouth.

“That’s … so good,” she whispered. Stupid
thing to say. But she meant it.

He massaged her back, suckled warmly, pressed
inside her.

She grew damper, more slick.

Her slickness seemed to increase as he
pressed inward, her knees compulsively grasped his hips, and the
pressure inside grew intense, almost painful.

He lifted his head. “A little more.” He moved
in such a leisurely manner, as if he didn’t care. Yet his skin
flushed with heat and his eyes burned. “Let me in a little
farther.”

She couldn’t stop him. She didn’t want to
stop him.

Months ago she had dreamed about this and
longed for him. Weeks ago she had dreamed about this and hated
herself. Now the dream was reality … and it was better than any
fantasy her mind could have concocted.

He reached his furthest point, his cock
completely sheathed by her wet, warm pussy.

She gasped.

He paused, his chest heaving as if he’d run a
great distance. “I’ve dreamed of this. It feels even better than I
ever imagined.”

Amanda smiled. So she wasn’t the only one
with a fantasy.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she lifted
her hips from the desk, rotating herself away from and toward him,
circling around his penis. She was rewarded by a hiss from Liam as
he tried to maintain control.

“How does that feel?” she asked.

Liam hardly recognized this brazen woman, her
golden hair cascading around her flushed breasts. She was a
goddess, sent to torture him with pleasure.

Sliding his hands down her back, he cupped
her buttocks in his palms and lifted her off the desk
completely.

Amanda wrapped her legs around him, holding
on as he carried her to the wall. He leaned her against the
old-fashioned flowered wallpaper. Burying his face in her hair, he
thrust into her.

Her inner muscles tightened around his
dick.

His breathing became ragged, almost painful
in its intensity.

They moved together as if they knew this
dance, yet for him, everything was new, different, fierce and
devastating in its power. With Amanda in his arms, he was strong,
confident … with Amanda in his arms, he was fearless, courageous,
noble. With Amanda in his arms, he was the man he was born to
be.

Climax drove him faster and faster.

He couldn’t hold out much longer.

But he would not leave her unsatisfied.

Reaching down between their bodies, he
lightly flicked her clit.

She spasmed, cried out, gave him her all.

He braced his feet. His thigh muscles
clenched. Every nerve came alive, and he came inside of her,
shuddering as her muscles gripped him, extending his orgasm,
feeding hers until they both forgot everything but here and now,
until they were each irrevocably and forever part of each
other.

AMANDA AWOKE, turning to Liam’s side of the
bed only to find an empty, cool space. She hadn’t heard him leave,
hadn’t felt the movement of the mattress.

Last night, they had moved from the wall back
to the desk and then to the bed. Finally they ended in the shower
where he rubbed lemon verbena soap all … over … her. After he
helped her towel dry, he had tenderly dressed her once again in her
boxers and t-shirt, covered her with a fleece blanket, and held her
while she slept.

For the first time in two months, she had
slept, without dreams, without nightmares. She felt refreshed. A
few nights of that kind of sleep could really put her back on the
right track.

But today was all about business: the
business of rescuing Sophia.

Slowly, Amanda got out of bed. Sure, she was
a little sore, but other than that, she felt great, renewed.

Now … where had Liam got to?

Although,
truth to tell, she was secretly relieved to not have to discuss
last night’s amazing tryst. What did you say to a man when you’d
been that … unrestrained … with him?
Gee, thanks, that was great, we’ll have to
do it again sometime
?

No. This was just easier.

She donned her private nursing uniform: khaki
pants, a crisp, blue, button-down shirt, and her sensible, soft
leather loafers. She tied her hair up into her usual prim bun and
smoothed lotion onto her hands and face, then checked her
reflection in the bathroom mirror. She wouldn’t be winning any
beauty awards today, but her under-eye circles had faded a bit and
her shoulders had relaxed since last night’s dinner.

“Okay, Amanda, you’re going to get your
sister back today. Be strong. Focus!” In recent months, Amanda had
acquired the embarrassing habit of giving herself pep talks aloud.
It seemed to help her more than simply saying it in her head, and
she figured today of all days, she could use the extra
encouragement … even if it was only from herself.

She was not like the homeless lady on the
street.

Or perhaps she was, and the homeless lady was
wiser than Amanda realized.

Gathering her nurse’s bag of prescriptions
and basic medical supplies, Amanda headed out into the corridor and
down the stairs. It was early yet, only seven-thirty according to
the mahogany grandfather clock in the entryway, but she could hear
voices coming from the library. She entered, barely making a noise
on the Aubusson rugs.

Liam and Irving sat close to the fire, deep
in their velvety blue armchairs, having tea and coffee with ginger
scones. The two men in front of the enormous, Medieval-style
fireplace were deep in conversation and didn’t notice her
entrance.

McKenna stood in the corner (did the man ever
sleep?) and nodded slightly at Amanda.

Only when Amanda placed her nursing bag on
the floor did Irving and Liam look up.

“Good morning, my dear,” Irving said
congenially.

“Morning, darlin’,” Liam added with a warm
and wicked grin.

Amanda
could feel a blush creeping up her neck, but she remembered her pep
talk.
Focus
!

“Good morning, all,” she said, using her most
professional nursing voice. “Irving, I trust you slept well.”

If Irving noted his prim nurse’s heightened
color, he gave no indication except to say, “You don’t seem nearly
as sad this morning. But of course, today you’re going to free your
sister.”

“Yes. Today Sophia will be freed.” Saying the
words made Amanda believe they could do it, and that made her feel
lighter, more confident.

“Good. Mr. Gallagher and I were discussing
the details of your final plan. I’ve had McKenna gather up my extra
wheelchair, as well as one of my finest convalescent outfits.”
Irving gestured at the sideboard where dark sweatpants and a dark
green sweater were stacked, with a folded wheelchair leaning
against it. “So, if you’re ready, my dear, we’ll begin.”

“Begin?” Amanda asked.

Liam looked very serious. “It will take me a
while to change into Irving’s form. His body is very different from
mine.”

“Old. Feeble,” Irving said. “Crippled.”

“I have to change my bones,” Liam said
gently. “It’s … tricky.”

“Oh. Right. Well, I guess there’s no time to
lose.” Amanda moved to unfold the extra wheelchair.

Liam stood up and approached Irving. “Thank
you for doing this, sir. I promise you won’t feel a thing.”

Irving was alert and bright-eyed. “Anything
for Miss Reed.”

Amanda's eyes filled. She had been betraying
Irving every step of the way, and yet he forgave her, encouraged
her. He was so good to her.

Liam held his strong hands out, and Irving
placed his deeply veined, shaking ones into them.

McKenna stepped forward.

He and Amanda watched with fascination as
Liam began to transform.

Liam’s shoulders slumped. His stature shrank
until he had reached Irving’s height. His skin became paper-thin,
darkening to Irving’s skin tone, stretching over brittle bones.
Amanda noted that Liam’s eye color changed quickly, but the change
from his natural, thick, black hair to Irving’s wispy, white hair
took longer. Amanda didn’t know how long it took — a minute, maybe
more — but now Liam looked precisely like the older man.

Irving looked Liam over. “I can see why I no
longer enjoy looking in a mirror,” he said, drily.

Amanda was amazed. If she didn’t know it was
Liam, she would have no idea.

Then he
spoke and she recognized the gruff and gravelly voice he used to
hide his Irish lilt. He
always
used that same fake voice. She shuddered to think what
voice he would use to imitate a woman.

“Amanda, I’m going to need a bit of help
here. I’m not the man I used to be.” Liam and Irving laughed softly
at his little joke.

Amanda jumped. She’d been so enthralled with
the transformation, she hadn’t thought that Liam would now be as
helpless as Irving.

McKenna wheeled the chair over with the
clothing stacked on the seat.

Amanda helped Liam change from his now baggy
jeans to the comfortable, fleecy pants, pulling the elastic
waistband over his over-sized four-leaf clover print boxers.

“A bit o’ luck,” Liam joked.

Smiling faintly, Amanda assisted him as he
raised his emaciated arms. The green sweater went over his head,
and she tugged it snugly around his black t-shirt.

“I wish,” Irving said crankily, and for the
hundredth time, “you would carry a weapon.”

“It would do no good. They’ll search us,”
Liam answered.

McKenna stepped forward. “I had a thought
about that.”

Everyone looked at the phlegmatic butler.

“When Mr. Shea came home from the hospital,
he had been so injured by his fall down the stairs, he wore a brace
on his right leg to keep the knee in place.” McKenna picked up the
nylon and stainless steel contraption off the table. “In a pinch,
it would work as a weapon.”

“And no one would ever think anything of it.”
Irving smiled.

“McKenna, you’re a genius!” Amanda said.

“For a Scotsman,” Liam said.

McKenna scowled and slapped the brace into
Liam’s outstretched palm.

Liam winced. He handed Amanda the brace and
painfully worked his hand.

“Serves you right,” Amanda told him, and
knelt to loosely buckle his leg into the brace.

A pair of black orthopedic shoes rounded out
his transformation.

“How do I look?” Liam slowly shuffled in a
circle, wincing and tilting as if every joint and every bone
ached.

“Dreadful!” Irving seemed to really be
enjoying himself.