The Stone Warriors: Damian (12 page)

“No, no, no,” she groaned as his fingers teased over her clit once more, bringing her to the edge of climax before slipping away again.

Leaning over, he kissed the back of her neck gently, softly. And then, without warning, he pinched her clit. She screamed into an orgasm and he began fucking her hard, slamming his cock in and out as she thrashed in climax, her pussy clenching around him while his shaft scraped against the sensitized walls of her sheath, driving his length in and out until a second orgasm ripped through her body, her channel closing around him so tight and hot that he could barely move. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. He’d dreamt of this for centuries, the fervent clasp of a woman’s sex, the volcanic heat of her arousal, the pulsing need of her climax.

But his body had needs of its own that his mind couldn’t fight, couldn’t slow down. Driven by the need to fuck her, he pounded his cock into her until the slick friction of her passage threatened to burn him, until the boiling demand of his own release shot down his cock in a rush of liquid heat. He threw his head back and roared, his thrusts becoming almost frantic as the climax overtook his senses.

Time seemed to stop for a moment. His mind shut down as he became nothing but sensation. The soft skin of her hip beneath his fingers, the fevered wetness surrounding his cock, dripping down her thighs—her climax and his, her soft cries fading into panted breaths that matched the beat of her heart, as his own heartbeat slowed from a gallop to its usual pounding rhythm. He soothed his fingers over her hip, knowing he’d gripped her too hard, that there would be bruises.

It was almost painful when he finally pulled out his cock, her inner muscles grasping at him, as if still unwilling to let go. His shaft was still half-rigid, his balls still tight, when he slid an arm around her waist and eased her to the bed, then stretched out beside her. He went to throw a leg over hers, and laughed.

“What?” she asked, sounding pissed and worried in equal measure.

“My boots are still on,” he told her, nuzzling into her neck in apology. “I can’t get my pants off.”

She started laughing, reaching back to stroke a hand over his cheek. “You should probably do something about that before . . .” She broke off whatever she’d been about to say.

“Before?” he prodded. “Before what?”

“Before the next time.” She pushed her ass against his cock, which was already growing harder by the minute. “I don’t think we’re finished here, do you?”

He grinned, then leaned in to close his teeth over her jaw. “Naughty girl. I like that.”

“Damian.” She whispered the objection, and he could feel the heat of her blush.

“And yet so sweet,” he murmured.

She slapped his hip. He laughed and sat up, reaching down to untie his boots and kick them off, shoving his jeans to the floor after them. When he lay back down, he rolled to his back, taking her with him, so that she was stretched out on top of him.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked, touching the injured arm lightly and then smoothing his hands down her back to rest on her tight ass.

“It’s fine,” she said, but then gave a soft grunt of discomfort. “But it’s better if I sit up.” She put action to words and rolled into a sitting position, straddling his thighs. “Oh, look what I found!” She wrapped her hand around his dick and squeezed.

Damian groaned. He’d already been half-hard. One climax didn’t come close to relieving the sexual hunger of centuries. But with her strong fingers now pumping up and down, squeezing and releasing in a sensual massage, his cock was swelling larger with every stroke. He slid his hands over her knees and gripped her thighs, spreading her legs until her pussy was wide open and on display. She tried to close them, to snug her knees against his hips, but he only chuckled, spreading her thighs even wider.

“Uh, uh, sweet naughty girl. You play with my cock, I get to play with your pussy.”

“Not if I—” She started to slide down even farther, lowering her head to take him in her mouth. But as much as Damian would have welcomed her lips wrapped around his cock, he wanted to fuck her even more.

“That’s not what we’re doing, sweetheart,” he said, sinking his fingers into her hips and lifting her easily until he could feel her heat above him. “Put me inside that tight little pussy of yours.”

A hint of stubbornness flashed briefly in her dark eyes, but then he lowered her enough to slide his cock through her wetness, scraping his full length against her clit. She threw her head back in a moan, but when he lifted her up again, she took his cock and positioned it at the entrance to her sex, and then immediately tried to sit, to take him fully into her body, protesting angrily when she discovered she couldn’t move.

Damian grinned. “I didn’t tell you to sit on me. If I had, you’d be sitting a lot farther up,” he added, licking his lips lewdly.

She gasped at the crude comment, and lowered her head so he wouldn’t see her blush.

He really did love the way she reacted to him. He rewarded her, and himself, by lowering her a couple of inches, letting his cock sink into her slick and welcoming heat. But only briefly.

Wiggling her hips against his grip, she scowled in protest. “Damian!” It was a demand, rather than a plea, so he flexed his muscles and thrust upward, letting her feel his thickness once more.

“Ask nicely, Cassandra.”

She slapped at his arms, but he only smiled. “Your ass is going to feel every one of those slaps before the night is over,” he warned her. “I do love a nicely pinked ass.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she sputtered, glaring at him.

“Wouldn’t I? Do I strike you as a man who makes idle threats?”

She wiggled again, trying to break free, but he only tightened his hold. “Ask nicely,” he repeated in a singsong voice.

She narrowed her gaze at him, but finally said, “Damian, you insufferable ass, would you mind terribly putting your oh-so-big cock into my delicious little pussy?”

He grinned, and, without warning, dropped her onto his cock as he flexed upward, burying himself balls-deep in her admittedly delicious pussy. He groaned as her heat surrounded him, her sheath pulsing as it struggled to accommodate his intrusion, her inner walls already shivering with an arousal that had her growing even more slick and creamy wet.

“Damian,” she breathed, her chest heaving, nipples flushed and swollen. She wrapped her fingers around his wrists, her head thrown back and eyes closed as she struggled visibly to deal with the overload of sensation.

He lifted her slightly and fucked her, thrusting into her sweet body, filling her completely as she hung helplessly in his grip.

“Oh God, I can’t do this again,” she whispered as her stomach clenched tightly and her pussy trembled around him.

“Come for me, Cassandra,” he crooned, and she moaned.

“Please,” she said on a sob, and he didn’t know if she was begging for the climax that was about to wash over her, or pleading for him to free her from its grip.

It didn’t matter in the end, because he had no intention of letting her go. He wanted to see her writhing above him, wanted to feel her pussy clamp down around him until he could barely move to fuck her.

She came without warning, her eyes opening wide in surprise as the orgasm roared through her body, bowing her back as she struggled to escape it, her fingers gripping her hair as she cried out over and over, her screams following the waves of climax that rippled over his cock until he joined her, crashing over the edge into carnal ecstasy.

Damian lowered her slowly, his cock still twitching inside her shuddering pussy as she collapsed against his chest. Her hair was silky and fragrant against his neck and he dipped his chin enough to kiss her forehead.

“I can’t move,” she muttered. “I know I should, but I can’t.”

He stroked a hand down her back, lifting her slightly as his cock slid out of her. Her cunt was hot and creamy against his thigh as she settled to her good side, one leg slung over his hip, one arm draped across his chest.

“You don’t need to move. Just sleep.”

He closed his eyes, but he could feel her chest move as her breathing deepened and her racing heartbeat slowed. Reaching down, he pulled the blanket over both of them, and then he slept.

CASEY WOKE SLOWLY, her body protesting the need to open her eyes. She was warm and cozy. She smiled as the word occurred to her. Cozy was not exactly something anyone would associate with Damian. But that was okay. She didn’t want anyone to know him the way she did. He made her feel sexy and safe, treasured and protected. She’d lived most of her life being the one in charge, the one making the decisions and taking the risks. It was lovely to let go of that for a few hours, to let him be in charge. And the exquisite sexual pleasure that he delivered didn’t hurt either. She’d never come more than once in a single night. Hell, there were plenty of nights when she’d faked even that one orgasm, just to get some sleep. But not with Damian. Her pussy clenched in reaction, just remembering the things he done to her. It was more than just his physical prowess—it was the enjoyment he took in fucking, the satisfaction he got from feeling her climax all around his cock. A cock that was thick and long and . . . Jesus! She needed to stop thinking about that, or she was going to climax all over again, just lying there.

She worked to regulate her breathing, to keep it even and relaxed. She didn’t want to wake him, not yet. She wanted just to lie there for a few private moments. The day would begin soon enough, and work would claim them all over again. But for now, for a little bit longer, they were only Cassandra and Damian, two people who’d met on a rooftop and fucked themselves into oblivion.

She tried, but reality kept rearing its ugly head. The problem was the Talisman.
Well, duh.
More specifically, it was the fact that she was stymied in her attempts to follow its trail. Sometimes when she slept, or when her mind was turned to something else, solutions to whatever problem she was working on would float to the surface. But while Damian had sure as hell distracted her from her current problem, she’d had no brain cells left to think about anything else. Not with his cock slamming in and out, and. . . . Fuck! She was doing it again!

She forced herself to concentrate on emptying her mind. Now there was a fine conundrum. The whole idea was
not
to concentrate on anything, to let her thoughts float freely. Over the years she’d been working for Nick, some of her best leads had developed from exactly that strategy. It was as if her conscious mind inhibited whatever the part of her was that could detect magic, and by turning it off, the magic had a chance to do its thing. Whatever its thing was.

She still didn’t quite understand it, but then she’d never met anyone who did. Even Nick couldn’t provide rational explanations for most of it, which made sense now that she knew what he really was. If he’d been born with the kind of power that Damian attributed to him, he’d never had to think about why magic worked. It was a part of his blood and bone, hardwired into his nervous system. It simply
was.
There was a certain arrogance in that, and it showed in Nick’s personality even now. To be sure, time and experience had probably worn the sharpest edges off, but Nick was always the guy in charge. And as generous as he could be, he never let you forget it.

Speaking of which, she wondered how he’d gotten along in Kansas with the vampires. If it had been your ordinary run-of-the-mill vampire, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But Nick’s mystery mission had something to do with Raphael, who was the Vampire Lord of the West and rumored to be the most powerful vampire not only in North America, but in the world. Some people still believed the old myths about vampires being risen from the dead and so on. The only part those myths had right was the blood drinking, and maybe the aversion to sunlight. Though it was unclear to her whether a vampire would actually crisp up like an overcooked piece of bacon, or if it was simply a sensitivity born of the vampire symbiote found in their blood.

Now
there
was a piece of magic. No one knew where the symbiote came from or how it did what it did, but there was no question in her mind that it was magic. The few times she’d gotten close to a vampire, the magic had flowed over her skin like warm silk. She could only imagine what it was like to stand next to someone like Raphael.

But that wouldn’t be the challenge for Nick. No, she wondered how he’d respond to
not
being the guy in charge for a change. Because no matter how much sorcerous power he possessed, where vampires were concerned, the power only flowed one way. And that was in the direction of their Sire. It might be quite entertaining to watch Nick and Raphael spar, but only from a distance. She wouldn’t want to be caught too close if they blew up at each other.

She closed her eyes, but a meditative state didn’t come and neither did any bright ideas about the Talisman. There was only one thing to do. She’d have to go back to that house, the one she’d stolen the thing from in the first place, and dig around. Maybe there’d be some leftover piece of evidence that would steer her in the right direction. Or there was always the possibility that she’d pick up a magic trail that she could follow, if not to the Talisman itself, then at least to someone who could lead her to the next step and the one after that. This was what her work usually entailed—a series of small steps that eventually led to the prize. That was how she’d located the Talisman in the first place, and why it was so infuriating that she’d lost it. Months of research had been wasted. Unless the location turned up something useful tomorrow.

“You’re thinking too loudly, Cassandra. I can’t sleep.”

She jerked at the sound of Damian’s voice, wondering how long he’d been awake. “I barely moved,” she protested.

“But your breathing changed, and so did your heartbeat.” He stroked a big hand over her hip in a blatantly possessive move. “What are you thinking about?”

“The Talisman,” she admitted, with a shrug that rubbed against his chest. “They were never supposed to get it back, and now I don’t have a clue about where they’ll take it next.”

“You’ll figure something out.”

Her heart warmed at his confidence, even as a small voice warned her to be careful. This was sex, not a relationship. Damian was a natural leader; he was hard-wired to make the people around him feel strong and capable.

“We need to go back to that house, the one I stole it from. Or rather, I need to go back there. You can—”

“Cassandra,” he chided, shaking his head on the pillow. “Do you really think I’d let you go after that thing without me? Even if Nico hadn’t decided I should go with you, I’d have gone.”

“Why?” she asked, wanting to know, but hating herself for asking. It made her seem so fucking needy.