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BRIAN
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I STOOD AT THE DOOR frame between the two rooms, a strange emotion swelling inside my chest at the sight of Elizabeth lying on her side, still dressed, her arm protectively wrapped across the little boy tucked close to her.
A wishful thought flashed through my mind, startling me with its intensity.
I can easily give her what she wants. I just need to pop a certain question.
Only I couldn’t do it because I was married. Sort of.
She stirred, as if sensing me, opened her eyes and blinked a few times. “I fell asleep. Is it time for you to change?”
Did she have any idea how sexy her slow and husky voice was?
I closed the distance between us and took her in my arms. Her scent, her warm body, her heavy breathing sent all my blood to my cock. My chest tightened with unbearable longing. At that precise moment, I knew I must not lose her. And if the only way to keep her was to marry her, so be it.
As soon as I was free to propose.
“Not yet, sweeting,” I said. “Come, I’ll take you to bed.”
“Leave the door ajar, Brian. I want to hear if Jacob wakes up.”
“Okay, but we have to be quiet, then.”
I started undressing her, kissing her temples, her eyelids, her jawline, but Elizabeth wasn’t in for slow seduction at two a.m. She tugged her sweater over her head and wiggled herself out of her clothes before she attacked mine.
Her urgency was as arousing as her slow seduction. Everything about Elizabeth Chatwin was sexy, I thought in a haze before we both got caught up in a white-hot frenzy of almost silent, passionate lovemaking. From her body to her incredible intellect, to her laugh and her smiles.
Later, as she nestled in my arms, all soft and sated, she placed her hand on my flaccid shaft. She would check the status of my post-coital penis every time after we made love, sometimes discreetly, sometimes less so. Regular sex had dealt with my prolonged erection, but she was still worried.
The strange, achy longing returned. I had to find a way to keep her. She was my light and my anchor.
“Azem’s concerned about the custody hearing, isn’t he?” she said in a low voice. “That’s why Jacob is staying here.”
“He isn’t concerned about the hearing. He and Gottfried will win.”
“How you can be so sure?”
“They didn’t leave anything to chance. They did a background check on Jacob’s mother. There are many reasons why a woman decides to leave her baby. Maybe Jacob’s mother suffered from post-partum depression; who knows. Maybe she isn’t the motherly type. Some women simply aren’t. No one’s judging her. But she is now associated with the wrong people. The man she intends to marry, ‘a respectable businessman’ as she stated in her appeal, is a criminal who’s been, so far, able to avoid justice.”
“Oh, that’s not good.”
“No, it isn’t. He’s involved in arms dealings, drugs and possibly human trafficking. She perhaps loves her son, but her future husband couldn’t care less about the boy. He doesn’t want him. This isn’t a world a child should live in. There are rumors that she and her boyfriend plan to move to somewhere in Central America. Gottfried and Azem fear she might try to get the boy before the hearing and take him out of the country.”
“He’s safe here, but what about after the hearing? Sam can get custody, but she might get supervised or unsupervised visitation rights. She’ll have access to him, one way or another.”
“Once he’s back in Rosenthal, we’ll find a way to keep Jacob safe, if necessary. We’ll keep tabs on his mother and her fiancé, but I don’t doubt Sam can protect him. Right now, Sam’s stretched thin. He’s working long hours and night shifts because they’re understaffed. Molly’s gone to Australia for two weeks, to her sister’s wedding.”
“Right, I remember Molly mentioning her sister’s getting married.” She paused. “Does Sam know about our world?”
I liked that she’d said our. “Not explicitly. He’s a man of great perceptiveness, though, and he trusts his gut. He knows Jacob will be safe here.”
Elizabeth braced herself on her elbow and looked up at me. The sharp sight that allowed me to see in darkness wasn’t something I often dwelled upon, but right now I was grateful for it. I was able to drown in those exquisite, silver and gold eyes, which shone in the darkness of the room like two little beacons.
“Yes, he’s intuitive,” she carried on. “He’s noticed Lottie’s youthful look. And he told me that during the year Astrid was in Rosenthal, not a single resident died. He found it in some demographic stats.”
“Oh-ho! These are human statistics, but we should fix them, nonetheless. Hey, don’t look at me like that!” I said at the sight of her eyebrows drawing closer. “We’ll just change a few dates here and there.”
“I’m not looking at you at all.”
“And now you’re rolling your eyes.”
She smirked. “And you should be keeping your eyes closed. I can’t see in the dark, so you shouldn’t be able to either. Now, what happened? Why did nobody die?”
“Wizards have strong healing energy, so living things tend to last more in their presence. Humans among us live longer, but wizards affect anyone and anywhere, although on a subtler level. People would have died if she stayed longer in Rosenthal—no one can stop that—but I’m not surprised by these statistics.”
“Tell me something. Now that I know you exist, will I be able to spot you outside your territory, blended into human society?”
“Do we look different to you?”
“You do, especially en masse,” she said without hesitation. “It likely wouldn’t have caught my attention on an individual basis, but here I can see common denominators.”
“Such as?”
Her observations were impressive. Our movements were different, she said. Our height, the eyes, vitality, energy, intense sexuality.
She kissed my shoulder. “Your men don’t lose hair, but they also don’t have much chest hair.”
I lifted myself on my elbow. “And how do you know that, Madam? How many chest-naked blaidds, or asyrs or Tel-Urughs have you seen?”
“Only one, but I’m a good observer, am I not? I saw Jason once when he came out of the shower. He had pants on if you’re wondering. I noticed none of you have chest hair sticking out of your shirt hems and collars. And I asked Harriet and Lily.”
“And what are your preferences regarding male torsos?”
The little tip of her pink tongue peeked out and licked over her upper lip. “Some serious muscles.” Her finger traced a thin silvery line that diagonally ran from my rib cage to my hip bone. “A scar here and there, and definitely no hair, except, of course ...” Her finger did a little dance along the vertical hairline that ran from my belly button to my groin, “the happy line, or, more poetically, the tiger trail.”
Her sultry voice and hot finger play instantly woke up the “tiger” at the end of the trail. I lazily ran my hand up her leg to her silky mound, returning the favor. She closed her eyes and breathed out a sharp, sexy sigh. “You don’t have body hair either.”
“Only eyebrows, eyelashes and, well, my pubic hair,” she murmured, eyes still closed. “It’s a harmless genetic mutation.”
“I know you don’t, but I’d call it a genetic improvement. And you have it in all the important places.”
Her eyes shot open, zeroing in on me. “Hey, how do you know?”
Another lapse. Shit. “What, baby?”
“That I don’t have body hair.”
Darn. I’d set a nice trap for myself. I tended to mix up things that I’d read in Lily’s background check with the things Elizabeth had told me about herself. Careful now.
“I’m a good observer, too,” I said. “First, your skin is soft and smooth. There isn’t a single visible hair on your arms or legs.” My fingers traveled over her forearms to her stomach and further down. “You’re dark haired, you’re supposed to have some body hair. Your legs don’t show signs of hair removal. You know how sharp my vision is. Also, I haven’t seen any razor in the bathroom, nor have I heard the sound of this little torture machine women use for depilation.”
She was either satisfied with my explanation or distracted by my caress, but it worked. Elizabeth’s hand enclosed around my penis and moved up and down. “Back to the differences I noticed,” she said in a low, sexy voice, “there’s this intriguing extra feature of yours. It would be hard not to notice it, of course. This is what I call a genetic improvement. And no need for that cocky grin. It’s not due to your personal merit that you have the knot. You’re quite a decent lover, though, in case your male pride needs a boost, which I doubt.”
“Decent, huh?”
She rolled her eyes once more. “Okay, you’re a great lover. Happy now?”
“And you’re a sexy little wench, Elizabeth Chatwin,” I said and closed my lips over hers. She let out a tiny squeak and opened her sweet mouth, letting me in. At the same time, her hand gave me a gentle squeeze.
“I barely can close my fingers around you, let alone,” she murmured into my mouth, her heart pounding, her breathing quickening. “Let alone ...”
“Either you have small hands, or I have a thick cock.”
“My hands are not that small. It must be your cock.”
I suppressed a smile. My never-predictable Elizabeth. A minute ago, she’d been hesitant to say “pubic hair” but now she didn’t have any problem talking about my cock. “Would you mind finishing your sentence, Miss Chatwin? What did you mean by ‘let alone’?”
A mischievous smile flickered briefly on her face. “Ah, I didn’t think you’d miss it. I’ll show you in a bit, Mr. Canagan.”
Oh, I really liked the direction our conversation was heading. Maybe I could push it a bit further. I caught her earlobe between my teeth and sucked it gently. “Do dirty little talks turn you on, Miss Chatwin?”
According to the beating of her heart, they did.
She cleared her throat. “Er, sometimes. Depends. Usually, yes; they do. Now back to your question. What I want to say is: how on earth am I going to give you a blow job if you are so big that I almost can’t wrap my fingers around your cock? I have regular-sized hands, but a small mouth.”
Holy hell! Now I was so turned on that I thought I would come in her hand only by imagining her little red lips around my dick. “Dare to try?” I muttered, and cupping her head, took her mouth in a long, hot kiss.
“Did you just dare me, Brian Canagan?” she murmured onto my lips. “This is the surest way to make me do something, although I probably shouldn’t have told you this. Now stay still.”
She pulled herself onto her knees and braced her palms on both sides of my body. Her lips and tongue began trailing their way down to my chest and abdomen in moist and fluttery little licks and kisses.
She stopped for a brief second when she reached my groin. She looked up and gave me a sultry smile. As if in slow motion, I saw her head dipping and lips parting, red and swollen from our kissing.
Nothing in my long life could have prepared me for this mind-blowing combination of eagerness, innocence and sensuality. Sharp, almost unbearable pleasure soared through my body as she took the tip of my cock into her mouth and started sucking it, gently and lovingly. Her tongue licked over the tiny slit on the head, once, twice and then flickered over the flared ridge. She didn’t try to take me deep—I was big, and she indeed had a small mouth—and her movements stayed slow and measured. She set a pace she was comfortable with and she apparently enjoyed every moment of her little play.
Her little sighs vibrated against my cock, making me shudder in excitement and anticipation. Her hand closed around my shaft and started stroking me following the slow, tantalizing rhythm of her mouth. Her other hand reached for my balls, squeezing them gently.
She kept her eyes closed, letting out pretty little moans here and there. I fought the urge to grab her head and thrust deeper into her mouth. Small as she was, I knew she could take me whole, but this was her game, her fun, and I didn’t want to spoil it. Instead, my hands reached out to unbraid her hair. I let it spill over her shoulders, sliding my fingers through its dark silkiness. She lifted her head, looked up at me, her eyes smiling, mouth full of my cock.
“You’re goddamn beautiful, Elizabeth.”
She gave away a breathy little sigh, and for a moment I teetered on the brink. I wanted it to last, but now she was sucking harder and deeper, her hand firmer and faster around me.
My cock stiffened, and my balls tightened to the point of pain. I held my breath, motionless, my self-control hanging by a thread. “Elizabeth, you must stop,” I groaned, trying to pull out. “I’m going to come, honey. I can’t hold it anymore.”
She shook her head and uttered a muffled cry that sounded like a “no.” Tightening her grip around me, she continued to suck and stroke with abandon.
I exploded into her mouth, spilling my seed in long spurts. She swallowed it with fevered greed, licked the last drops of semen and tenderly kissed my softening erection. And then she collapsed over me.
I held her in a firm embrace and I kissed the crown of her head, her forehead, her temples, her hot little mouth. She smelled of me, she tasted like me.
She’s taken my essence. She was mine.
“I wasn’t even sure if I liked doing it. Before, I mean,” Elizabeth said, circling her index finger around my nipple.
“And now?”
“And now,” she drawled, “I loved it.”
“I’m happy I made you change your opinion.”
“There are many things I didn’t dare to try. But I’d like to do them with you,” she said in a soft whisper.
A rush of emotion that I didn’t dare to name tightened my chest. I pulled her upward and kissed her senseless.
“Do you mind telling me a bit about the other things that you haven’t tried but always dreamt about?” I said after catching a breath.
She buried her head into my neck. “Some other time, perhaps.”
I took her head between my palms and looked into her eyes. “You’re the boss here, you know that, don’t you? You’re in control. You tell me what you like. What you want. How you want it. And if there is something that you don’t like, you tell me that too. Okay?”
She nodded, quiet and solemn. What memories had my words brought up? About that terrible attack, when Dennis Simmons had tried to rape her?
Whatever it was, it didn’t last long. She smiled. “I can tell you what I want now,” she said with a spark in her eyes. “I want you to tell me what you want.”
“With pleasure, Miss Chatwin.” My hands gave her little round, perky ass a little slap. “First go and close that door. My throat hurts from all this whispering. And then I want you to come back to bed and lay on your back. You’ll keep your hands above your head and your legs open for me. Now it’s my time for a feast.”