Syphon's Song (20 page)

He lifted her, holding her close for a moment, only to pull his heat away as he laid her on the bed, the cool blankets a sharp contrast to her hot skin.

He braced one knee on the soft surface next to her hip and slid her bra straps down her shoulders to reveal tight nipples that craved his attention.

She curved up to him with impatience, but he was not to be hurried. She went breathless under his gaze, anticipating his touch. “Vincent…” The single word held her complaint.

“I want to look.”

A soft laugh escaped in a huff. “It’s too dark to see.” But she realized the truth even as she spoke.

“Not for me. You’ve never been with a mage, have you? I’m your first.” He bent his head and brushed his lips against the top of her breast. “And your last. You are all mine.” He closed his mouth over her nipple.

A broken hum vibrated from her lips.

 
She was his.

 
But this is all they would have.

 
She thrust the thought away as his tongue played over her hard tip again and again until it was so sensitive she was ready to beg for something more. He drew her into his mouth. The sound of her cry snapped through the air. He moved to her other side and repeated the process, taking his sweet time yet again.

She tingled beneath his touch, needing more everywhere.

“I can taste your power.” His words vibrated through her nipple sending delicate heat dancing down her skin to her center.

“Not possible,” she denied with a shiver.

He drew back and moved onto the bed, his knees between her thighs. He hovered over her, balanced on his hands and knees, touching her exactly nowhere.

“Quite possible. And true.” He hovered over her. “You are beautiful. I never thought I’d have a chance at anything like this.” He bent down and kissed the fullest part of one breast, and then the other. “You are a gift.”

With her bra pulled down to expose her nipples and lacy stockings framing the tops of her legs, she must look like a nymph. She certainly felt like one. And she liked it. She slipped her fingers beneath the hem of his shirt.

 
He shuddered at the contact and reached for her hands, preventing her exploration. Instead, he laced his fingers through hers, connecting them. He leaned forward and kissed her stomach, so sensitive she jerked in response. He worked his way down, softly. Light brushes of his lips fired every nerve he touched and left them awake and yearning for more. He laved care to her hips, one side and then the other. He drifted down to her inner thighs, skipping past her most needy parts.

“Colonel, you’re a tease. I never suspected.” It bordered on a complaint.

“I believe in doing a thorough job.” His lips trailed over her skin with his words. “I carry out every mission with total attention to detail. It takes time to do things right.”

“Surely some missions require speed.” She shook her head back and forth on the pillow as he pressed a kiss on top of her mound…inches shy of where she wanted him, and blocked from her skin by her panties.

“This isn’t one of them.” But finally, he pulled off her panties.

She sighed with a touch of desperate gratitude and lifted her hips to assist.

He dipped back down to kiss the sharp edges of her hip bones, now exposed without the stretch of lace.

She arched up again, wanting to move him, to make him touch where she burned the most.

He dodged her, fanning his hands along the tops of her thighs, creeping in toward her feminine core. “This is meant to be savored.” He ran one finger right down her center, pressing over that most sensitive of places and entered her, once, twice.

Every nerve point inside her fired. She dug her heels into the bed.

He passed his tongue over her clitoris, once and then again in rhythm with his finger.

She shattered wide open.

His vibes poured into her in places she hadn’t known existed. A cry echoed. She reached for him as sensations drowned her. She grasped blindly but failed to connect from her lack of focus on anything but the waves of pleasure swelling through her. He found her though, grabbed her empty hand, and grounded her as the spasms of heat and energy rocketed through her.

He caressed his way back up her stomach, bestowing gentle kisses on each nipple and then reached her lips, caressing them with his.

She panted beneath his attention and, after a long moment, looked up at him with a slow blink. She smiled. “Well, colonel, I’d say that was a successful mission.” She’d never heard her voice sound so sultry. He was powerful enough to turn her into a siren mage, after all. She poked a finger into his chest. “Now. You take off that shirt. It’s my turn.”

* * * *

Vincent obeyed. Anything to please her, to keep her right where she was meant to be. In his bed.

His shirt shot to the floor like a bullet. He froze, surprised. His power had crept beyond the boundaries of his control while he’d devoured the taste of her, and he hadn’t even realized it.

She giggled.

His cheeks burned. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost control. And it had never happened in bed.

“I felt your power,” She touched herself low on her belly. “Right here. Do that again. This time with your pants.”

“Bronte.” A growl. “You’re playing with vibes so hot they’re gonna burn us both.” His gaze caught on her perfect breasts, framed by her pulled-down bra. He reached beneath her and flicked the clasp. He cupped her softness with both hands and passed his thumbs over the tight pink nipples as the bra whipped to the floor with his power.

She arched into his touch, her head pressing against his pillow. “Not my bra. I said your pants.” The airy words weren’t much of a command, especially considering the smile that graced her lips. Her body was replete with a pleasure he would build for her again.

She skidded her fingers along his shoulders and chest. Her touch left a blaze in its wake as she made her way to his waist. But like his coat, she wouldn’t be able to remove his pants, not with the mage fastenings.

Despite the years he’d worked to earn this uniform, he suddenly resented it. If she wore clothes he didn’t have the power to remove, he’d be really pissed off.

He swung his feet to the floor and complied with her order before she realized the situation. He didn’t want anything to make her feel inadequate. Because she wasn’t. She was the most miraculous being who’d ever graced this land, and he would prove it to everyone. Including her.

Her gaze followed him as he surpassed her command, taking his underwear and socks with the pants. His hard erection bounded free. He sucked in a breath and gritted his teeth as she reached for him, closing around him.

She closed around him, running her touch along the length of him.

He squeezed her wrist and pulled her hand away. A pretty pout took form on her lips.

“Next time, beauty. I want this to last.” He leaned his hands on either side of her head and bent to kiss the pout away.

She anchored him by his shoulders to hold him in place and opened her mouth beneath his, humming beneath his kiss. It rocked him clear to the tip of his cock.

She lifted her legs and caught him by his hips, locking her ankles behind his back. The mischievous minx smiled.

He braced himself. He hadn’t deterred her a bit.

She reached between their bodies and stroked his cock in her hand. “Let me, please.” Her husky whisper blew along his neck, her soft hand making him harder than ever. Pressure built and demanded an answer.

He closed his eyes.

“Take off my stockings.”

He felt his way around along the lacy tops with shaky hands and traced a path around her thighs. “I like them.”

She moaned. “But I want to feel your skin on mine.”

Leverage. Somewhere in that statement was leverage. Eyes still closed, he fought for the power to think up a bargain. He was too close to the edge. “If you want me to move, you have to let go.”

“Oh.” Disappointment clouded her voice, but her legs fell from his back, and with one last stroke, she released his cock.

He opened his eyes to see her very core spread beneath him. He held on to control by the last thread of a frayed rope. He rolled one stocking down and then the other, letting his power toss them to the floor.

She gasped.

With his lips over her clit, he licked and teased until she was as high on that wave of need as he. High on pleasure, desire…love.

“Oh please, Vincent, come inside me. Let me feel all of you.” She pulled at his shoulders, trying to make him comply. “Now.” A breathy, begging word.

“Impatient, are you?” But so was he. His energy broke the remainder of the dams he always kept tight around his sixth sense. It overflowed and crashed onto her, into her. His vibes worshipped at her banks like waves lapping at the land, offering its very self to the shore. Never had anyone accepted him like this. Never had it occurred to him that it was even possible.

He swept his lips over her taut belly, working back up.

She arched under his caresses, tilting her chin and exposing the graceful curve of her neck. She draped over his bed like a goddess to be adored and treasured. “Please hurry.”

“Such manners,” he gasped. The head of his cock had already found her. “But happy to help.” He entered her slowly. She stretched around him, her walls quivering as he slipped inside. Liquid heat surrounded him.

“Oh, thank you.” Her eyes fluttered shut.

It had been so long…so long since he could tolerate being this close to a woman. And it had never been like this. He moved inside her, deep and tight. Bronte’s legs came around his waist and urged him faster. He thrust with more force, careful to not hurt her, but she wasn’t having it. And he couldn’t hold on.

He reached between her legs to caress her clit. He was taking her with him. He jetted into her. His mage energy flowed. His essence poured straight into the heart of her syphon power. She spasmed around him, on and on, until his body and his power were drenched in this ultimate pleasure.

He was slow to recover. Panting for air, he went down on one elbow. He wrapped one arm around her, twisted around and lowered himself to the bed. He pulled her with him until she lay draped over his chest.

Bronte hadn’t caught her breath either. Mission accomplished.

She traced the line of his jaw.

He reached up, brought her hand to his lips and then tucked it against his chest. Tossing the quilt over them, he held her tight, catching his syphon close enough to pull her into his dreams before a deep sleep closed in on him.

11

Bronte opened her eyes to darkness. Her restful sleep faded in an instant. Vincent lay next to her, flat on his back, motionless except for the rise and fall of his chest. He slept like he did everything else, intense and focused. Even in his dreams he had straight, smooth posture. His leg pressed against hers. She didn’t mind.

But it was time to go.

Instinct told her to say a silent goodbye or risk a pointless argument. The time allotted to her faded away, almost gone. There was nothing Vincent could do about it. Her parents held her strings.

A bittersweet ache built in her heart, a storm cloud of tears and loss ready to rage. She shoved it aside. It would have to wait. It could have its reign when she was far away, when she could afford to remember what had been.

She sat up and crawled over him one limb at a time and stepped to the cold floor. She gazed down at him, waited, but he didn’t wake up. Vincent was sound asleep. It seemed out of character for him to be so blind to his surroundings. The aftereffects of the sex, she thought. She almost smiled.

She padded to the bathroom and groped around in the dark for her bag she’d left on the floor. She pulled out the jeans she’d saved for the ride home. Though she patted around the sparse contents of the cheap duffel, nothing felt like a shirt. Tiptoeing back to the bedroom, she spotted a lump of shadows on the floor. Clothes of some kind. She felt around. Her hand met her bra, stringy and wiry, and the thin cloth of Vincent’s t-shirt. Their pale colors almost glowed in the dark. She slipped them on.