Wild Hyacinthe (Crimson Romance) (19 page)

“Asher!” she whispered. “This isn’t a damn cabin. This is a fortress.”

I followed her eyes to the peaked roof of the cabin and flashed her a grin. She was right. “I call it a cabin because it is one compared to the home we grew up in.”

“Did you come here often as a kid?”

I gulped and hid my cringe. “No, this was my first purchase of real estate as an adult. Bought it when I was seventeen. I thought I would live here full-time but found it was too far away from town and I was bored out of my skull, so I bought the gym and the apartment next.”

Aria sighed, overwhelmed, as she drank in the slow drive up the laneway.

My answer about real estate was truthful but only by half. Gypsy and I selected this place with security and ambiance in mind. We hired a designer to optimize the experience for my specific purposes. I intended to live here exclusively, but at that stage, my rate of abstinence was low and I found myself wallowing in lonesome self-hatred between kills, wandering from room to room with nothing else to do. I ultimately decided I might find more self-control if I were not basking in the sensual atmosphere of the cabin all the time, and then I realized I wanted nothing to do with the place outside of its necessity for my survival. Gypsy called my vacancy a form of denial, escaping from the reality of my existence. I didn’t bother arguing with her.

I hated sex enough to hate the place, regardless of the conclusions Gypsy could draw about my mental state. I furrowed my eyebrows. I hated sex. Totally. Putting words to that feeling set even more of a delicious spin on the conundrum that was Aria: I could grow to love sex with a woman like her, someone unique, someone unlike anyone else. Her orgasm around my finger was tantalizing enough. What would she feel like, coming around my cock?

What would it feel like to come
in
her? To fill her with myself, to shoot heat into her over and over again . . .

I could grow to love it so much I might want it every day.

Fuck me.

Those fantasies were dangerous, so I shoved them out of my head. She already wanted me too badly, just because of the magnetic draw of the incubus. The incubus craved her life, therefore, she wanted me. It was just too easy, and too hard to swallow, all at once.

And yet I knew keeping her around, drawing her in with the pull of the incubus, was damaging her more every day. How long could she endure it: being lured in by the incubus, and pushed away by me? It was the worst form of rejection I could imagine—teasing and irresistible all at once.

I parked in the circle of the driveway that surrounded an elaborate, perfectly landscaped fountain. The trickling water smelled fresh and light, and Aria climbed out of the Sissy, stood in front of it and stared up at the cabin. The spotlights made her skin glow and her hair flash brilliant blue and black. A gentle wind rushed up and swept her skirt tighter against her legs as she basked in the nighttime air. She looked small and intimidated as I shut my door and faced her, watching her slow paces toward the steps, her eyes huge and bright. I smiled and crossed my arms over my chest, leaning against the car and enjoying her surprise.

But when Aria turned to me, there was a glint on her cheek I didn’t expect: a tear. I dropped my arms and strode to her, sweeping my arm along her waist and drawing her against my chest, tipping her chin up with my finger.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, sudden panic rising in my chest. Could she feel, on some subtle level, the horror of the place, hear the echo of all the terrible things I’d done here?

“God, Asher, I never dreamed of such a place,” she whispered, wiping her tear away, embarrassed. She swallowed and composed herself. “I’m just in awe, that’s all. In awe of you and all that you are, of all that you share with me and all that you hide.”

I felt my face harden at her sweet words. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to hold Aria in my arms in the glinting light of the moon and the spotlights forever, to allow no harm to come to her, no matter what it took to keep her alive. I brushed her hair back from her temple and forced a smile.

“You look really good here,” I murmured.

Aria stretched up and kissed me once, long and slow. “You look haunted here.”

Her perceptive honesty cut me across the gut, and I wished I could die rather than spend another moment lying to her, hiding my danger from her.

I can do this,
I chanted in my head.
I can do this. She’s worth it. She’s worth everything.

I led her into the house and turned on the lights. The foyer was grand and led to a receiving room straight ahead. Aria pressed her palm to her heart as she took in the open space and top-of-the-line furnishings. She followed me up two floors of winding stairs, beyond the kitchen level to the loft.

At the top of the stairs was a library, a guest suite and my suite, both with huge, attached bathrooms and walk-in closets. Each suite also had its own living area with loveseats and a television, stereo and bookshelf. I led Aria to my room.

She gasped as I flipped on the light.

“Asher,” she breathed, “you are a fetishist beyond what I thought.”

I followed her eyes to the great lounging chair in front of a massive wall of mirrors and then to the bed, where I dozed to sleep so many times staring at a mirror above the king-sized sleigh bed. The mirrors actually served a practical purpose: catching sight of myself in the act of sex helped to keep me grounded. During the kill, it would be so easy to detach myself from who I was and what I did, giving my monster side free access to my body, handing over my control. That fire in my limbs when the incubus threatened to control me was too synonymous with the flame of need. I had to be accountable and retain some control over my actions. Gypsy could call me a coward and accuse me of denial all she wanted, but I wasn’t an escapist. I would not escape my reality to give the incubus complete control . . . no, I couldn’t.

If I found myself killing Aria, would I be able to give up my being permanently to avoid enduring her murder? I remembered the moments on the ledge of some stranger’s window, fighting the monster as he pushed forth in my limbs with fiery urgency. No. I’d be forced to watch it all from the backseat, helpless to stop my body as it murdered her, if I let it get that close.

I watched her turn in a circle, taking in the atmosphere of the room. It blistered romance, the dark red bedding trimmed with silver and contrasted by the finest of dark hardwood floors. She caught my mood in the air and stepped toward me, taking both of my hands in hers.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m not offended. The mirrors are actually kind of a turn on. Show me why you like them.”

I couldn’t force a grin as she folded herself into my arms and kissed the hollow of my throat once, then again. Her breath . . .
her fucking breath . . .
I wanted to gasp it while she came again but while buried inside of her body. She pushed on my shoulders and I sank into the massive lounge chair in front of the full wall of mirror.

Aria knelt before me and bored her gaze into mine as she unfastened my belt and flipped open my cargos. She was so determined. I was already hard; I had not managed to be anything but hard since the day I met her. I knew I should stop her. But here, in the cabin—in my hidden fortress, the palace where I got away with anything I wanted and everything I hated—oh, God, this was dangerous.

Tugging my erection free, Aria licked her lips as she met my eyes, asking for permission. I took a deep breath and nodded once.
Control. I can do this.
She flicked out her tongue and stroked my tip tenderly, her taste buds caressing me with the perfect blend of texture and smoothness. She opened her mouth and took me inside, sucking once and then swallowing, beginning a slow rhythm of dipping up and down on my cock, torturing me.

The moisture and heat of her mouth was stunning, and the visual experience of watching her black hair bob in my lap as she sucked on her knees in the mirror doubled my pleasure. I groaned once and wrapped my fingers in her hair, pulling her deeper onto my erection. She whimpered but allowed me to press into the back of her throat for a moment, then huffed for breath when I brought her up to the tip. I hesitated, afraid I’d pressed her too far, but then her tongue swirled and lapped, and she moaned, and I was lost in her mouth. I pressed her down into my lap again, trying not to buck my hips, needing to go deeper, harder. I closed my eyes and groaned again as she gulped at me, never ceasing the tug of her tongue along my shaft and the milking motion of her lips. I opened my eyes as I let go of her hair to give her the chance to breathe again, watching her face redden with exertion.

Aria didn’t allow me a moment to prepare for her forcefulness. She shoved her face forward and gagged herself on the tip of my cock, then pressed harder as she straightened on her knees and worked her lips around my shaft. She took me deep and sucked, her arms flexing as she convulsed, drawing me beyond her gag. I panted and grabbed her hair again, securing her in place while my hips thrust against her mouth. I released her with a growl, clasped her shoulders and pushed her to the floor.

Heat spread from my core to my legs and into my biceps, spinning through my veins to my fingertips. I needed her. Or the incubus did. There wasn’t much of a difference, as my cock pulsed so hard with desire. I had to get her off, to get a wisp of her breath—something, anything to help sate this fire.

Aria let out a delighted squeal of surprise as I tackled her, pressing my throbbing hard-on against her panties beneath her skirt. I fumbled with her thong but lost my patience and reached between her legs with both hands, tearing the lace in half. She gasped.

“Expensive, Asher!” she protested with a giggle.

“It was in my way and paid the price.”

She let out a moan of anticipation as I stroked her smooth slit with one finger. I circled her clit once and found her soaking wet and ready for me. I knew I should keep it hands-only, but I couldn’t resist feeling the warmth of her on my aching, aching cock. I grabbed my shaft and straightened over her, then began a slow rhythm with my fist up and down, the head of me rubbing against her wet warmth.

Aria sighed and her eyes closed with pleasure as the smoothness of my head slid along her clitoris with the motion of my stroke. She reached over my arms and scratched the skin of my pectorals with her fingernails, sending the delightful thrill of sensation that teetered between pleasure and shock rippling downward from my shoulders to my balls. I slipped the head of my cock side to side and then spiraled around her clit, then repeated as I continued to jerk myself off against the entrance to her forbidden, dripping center.

Aria’s back arched and her legs stiffened as I picked up my pace, feeling the little bud of her clit swell and press back against me. God, she was hot. “Come for me, Aria,” I growled, the heat of need threatening my control over my motions. “I need you to come.”

She moaned and covered her face with one hand. I gripped myself tighter as I supported my weight over her gasping body and pleasured her with myself, leaking onto her, mixing my own moisture with hers. She let out a cry and clapped her hand over her mouth as she came, a spasm ricocheting over her body in waves from her stomach to her toes. I let go of myself, grabbed her wrist and yanked her hand away from her mouth. I kissed her and inhaled at her mouth as she came, drinking in her orgasm and feeling the bright glow of her climax charge me like the smallest electric shock: just a touch of her aura, enough to calm my frenzied need, and enough to drive me onward, too. My eyes burned with satisfaction. She watched me with intense, inspired eyes as I absorbed her climax, and I had no idea what she might think of my inhalation, which probably looked like just another fucked up fetish.

As I charged, the incubus within me demanded more. The heat in my muscles refused to recede. I pressed my cock lower, poised at her entrance.
Shit!
I couldn’t stop. The fire of need spread into my hips, and I knew it was only moments until I lost control. Was this really happening? I glanced up in the mirror.

My eyes, reflected at me with accusation, stopped my pursuit. The mirror showed the whites burning red like fiery coals behind my irises and dim, black pupils, arresting the moment.

Was this what the incubus within me truly looked like? The whites of my eyes blazed like bleeding fire as I hovered over Aria’s virginity, as her life hung in the balance between us.

“It’s okay,” Aria breathed, still panting from her climax. “It’s okay, Asher!”

I glared at her. Any normal woman would be shocked, terrified, and traumatized by my fiery eyes as I inhaled her pleasure from her mouth. But Aria was unaffected by the monster behind my eyes.

She blinked and stroked my cheek with compassion in her touch. “Asher, I want you. Do it.”

I shook my head and glanced back at the mirror: my eyes still burned like embers in my face. My own inner nature was taunting me. My needs demanded Aria, and my demand for her raged that I would even consider denying myself her life.

“Asher, come on.” Aria squirmed and lifted her hips toward me, begging me to meld our bodies together as one, begging to be filled with my cock, which throbbed and dripped between us as I hesitated. “Please,” she moaned. “Oh, please, Asher, take me.”

My cock pulsed to the point of pain at her plea and the desperation with which I wanted to satisfy her need. But I couldn’t do this. Not to her. I took a deep breath and looked back to her face, the conflict within me slicing me in half. “No,” I breathed. “No, Aria. I can’t.”

“It’s okay,” she repeated, her expression twisting as she tried to mask her offense at my rejection once more. I swallowed my urges, and with the strongest shove of willpower I could muster, I pulled my hips away from Aria, breaking the touch between us before I couldn’t control myself any longer and simply stuffed the entire length of me into her begging body.

“No.” My breath was harsh in my ears as the darker part of me lost his temper and blew into a rage, impatient. “I can’t.”