Thief Of Light Part 29

The brush clattered to the floor and Prue's world swung. "I've got you," he said. And he had, sprawled across his lap, her head in the crook of his arm. Without a word, he bent his head and engulfed a nipple in the hot, wet cavern of his mouth, suckling strongly, no mercy.

Prue shrieked, but the sound stuttered in her throat when he reached between her legs and pressed the flat of his thumb directly over her quivering c.l.i.t.

Her world disappeared in a luscious, all-encompa.s.sing explosion of soft red sensation. There was no room left inside her for breath, or thought, or awareness of anything save the whirlwind of heat that roared up and down her spine, pooling low in her belly, in her s.e.x. A hurricane of release tore through her, winds that blew her conscious self away, leaving only Erik's big hands and deep voice to tether her to earth.

It took forever and it took no time at all.

The aftershocks were still washing through her when she cranked her eyelids open. Oh Sister, she'd forgotten she wasn't supposed to close them!

But it seemed to have slipped Erik's mind. His palm moved in warm, gentle circles on her stomach. "That was, was . . ." He shook his head, his eyes wide and very blue. "I had no idea. This is actually working, isn't it?"

Prue smiled, tears stinging her eyes. "Oh yes." On impulse, she locked her arms around his neck, dragged his head down and nuzzled his stubbled jaw. "What about you?"

"It's . . . like flying. Knowing I have you, that for tonight you're mine and only mine. You make such gorgeous little noises, Prue, like music. I . . . Ah well." He blinked, shrugging.

Prue slid a hand down over his chest, toward his stomach. "Doesn't it hurt, that thing?"

Erik caught her fingers in a hard grip. His cheek moved against hers as he smiled, but there was little humor in his voice. "I'll survive." Gently, he drew back. "Roll over on your front, sweetheart, and stretch out."

With a deep sigh, Prue did so, every muscle, nerve and tendon languid with the release of tension. When he returned to the shelf holding the devices, she was so lost in studying the hard, high curve of his a.s.s, she forgot to worry. The light picked up the golden glow of skin and body hair, a downy fuzz like that on some delectable fruit. Her mouth watered. On the way back, she was so focused on the astonishing rigidity and girth of his bound c.o.c.k, she barely noticed what he had in his hands. A small bottle and something else.

Didn't matter, she trusted him. She was wet and soft and open, she'd be able to accommodate him, whatever he wanted. It would be her pleasure. Or she could take him in her mouth, taste him, lick and suck and drive him wild. Now that would be something. Her lips curved in a sated smile, but Erik looked stern, even forbidding.

He sat at her hip. "Hold on to the headboard."

When she did so, he untangled two of the silken ropes draped over the latticed canopy above the bed. "Prue, do you remember the things I said to you earlier?" As he spoke, he looped a rope over her wrist and tied it to the fretwork of the headboard.

The knot was a token effort, so simple she'd be able to release herself with ease. Prue smiled. "Which one? You said an awful lot, you know."

"I have a point to prove." Erik secured the other wrist. "I said I could make you do things, feel things, you've never wanted before."

A chill slithered on little cat feet down her spine. Prue moistened her lips. "Like what? It's only a different angle. Fine, I've done it this way before."

"Lift up." Erik grabbed the other pillow and shoved it beneath her hips, cupping the generous curves of her bottom in his palms. It must be her imagination, but she could have sworn his hands shook. "Lord's b.a.l.l.s, I'm going to f.u.c.k you into the mattress."

She must be presented to him like a meal on a plate and it seemed he was hungry. Prue purred. "Good."

"But first . . ."

Picking up the bottle, he uncorked it and dribbled a trail of something cold and wet over her tailbone and into the cleft between her b.u.t.tocks.

"What the-?" Prue tried to rear up, only to have Erik press her down with a firm hand in the small of her back.

"Sshh. It's a lubricant." He pushed her legs farther apart, following the liquid with a thick forefinger, swirling around the shrinking pucker of her a.n.u.s.

Prue could barely speak. "You w-wouldn't!"

"You have a truly fabulous a.s.s, sweetheart. Don't move." He smacked her bottom, enough to sting but not to really hurt. As he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, one fingertip penetrated, very gently. "No more than you can take, I promise. You're doing wonderfully. Here, look."

He placed an object on the table beside the bed. Prue stared. It was made of a dark gray, flexible substance, reminiscent of Technomage transplas, in a series of graduated bulges, fine at the tip, thickest near the base, where there was a broader, flatter piece.

Erik's finger sank in to the first joint and swirled. His other hand drifted up and down her spine, petting and soothing. Prue gurgled, her brain reeling. G.o.ds, she'd never imagined anything so naughty in her life, but neither had she known the nerves there were so sensitive.

Erik said something and she missed it. He swatted her other cheek. "I asked you a question, Prue."

"W-what?" Every square inch he'd brushed tingled, p.r.i.c.kling and burning, as if that single sharp smack had set off a chain reaction all over her body. But it was no hotter than the dark, fiery sensations in her a.s.s. When his finger advanced another inch, Prue shuddered, unable to process the competing sensations, the strangeness of it all.

"Do you know what this is?" He laid a finger on the very tip of the object. "What it's for?"

Prue groaned into the pillow. "I can guess."

"Is it thicker than me?"

Merciful Sister, was that a second second finger inside her? "N-no." finger inside her? "N-no."

"Longer?"

"No!" He was stretching her now, gentle, but implacable. She didn't not not like it, in fact-G.o.dsdammit, this was insane, like it, in fact-G.o.dsdammit, this was insane, wrong wrong. "Stop, Erik, I can't-"

A big hand came into her field of vision and scooped up the plug. "You can take it, love. I know you can."

Prue pulled back as far as her bonds would allow. "No, don't." Her voice came out deeper than she'd intended, husky. "I don't want-G.o.ds!"

He'd cupped her s.e.x, pressing the slick, cool surface of the plug the length of her slit. "You're not just wet, Prue. You're dripping." He slid the first third of it inside her sheath, setting off a series of clutching spasms she was helpless to prevent. "You see?" He gave the plug a twirl, leaving her aching for something thicker, longer. Harder Harder.

Erik's voice dropped a full octave as he withdrew the plug and trailed the flexible tip back over her perineum, making her quiver. "I'm dying for you, Prue. So tight around my c.o.c.k. Like a soft, hot fist gripping, sliding-" She heard his breath hitch. A momentary pause and the cool, silky weight of his hair swept across her thigh. Strong teeth worried delicately at the slope where b.u.t.tock curved into thigh.

He replaced the fingers in her a.s.s with the plug and began to work it in, using plenty of the lubricant. He did it one b.u.mp at a time, ignoring her incoherent protests. Prue's thoughts whirled about like small birds tossed in an updraft. She could stop him in an instant, she knew she could, knew what she had to do. But he wanted it so very badly, and she loved him so much-and besides, she'd always said she couldn't sing.

The plug wasn't especially thick, even at the base, so it didn't hurt, but it stretched her enough to be a fiery presence in her rear, invading and filling in a way it was impossible to ignore.

"There." Erik gave the diabolical thing a final twist, seating it firmly and setting off a complicated tangle of fireworks that had Prue clenching her hands around the headboard until her knuckles shone. The carved surface bit into her palms, but she had no attention to spare because Erik had grasped her hips and lifted her to her knees. The front of his thighs pressed against the back of hers.

"f.u.c.k, Prue," he muttered. "You're killing me."

Searingly hot and hammer hard, he worked the first inch into her body. His long, low groan and Prue's shocked gasp echoed off the walls together. His fingers bit into her hips as he slid back a little, only to thrust back in. She could hear the harsh rasp of his breath, feel the rock-hard tension in his thighs.

"Feel it?" He had to be speaking through clenched teeth because she could barely make out the words, but oh, G.o.ds, yes, she could feel every twitch of his c.o.c.k, every curve of the device inside her!

The difference was indescribable. The bulk of the plug narrowed her sheath, so that Erik had to move unbearably slowly, finessing and furrowing his way through slick, delicate tissues. When he was finally crammed all the way in, planted b.a.l.l.s deep, he froze, waiting for the Sister knew what.

Prue dropped her head, whimpering. All the blood and every nerve she possessed had migrated to her pelvis. Gradually, she became aware of his heartbeat, transmitted through the girth that spread her so wide. Her own marched together with his, an insistent rhythm in her s.e.x, her a.s.s, her belly, her heart, her head. Ah, G.o.ds, she was on fire-lost, so lost in him, consumed utterly. Owned.

Had he spoken? It took so much of her willpower to prevent her shaky knees from collapsing she must have missed it.

"Prue." Erik tapped the plug, which sent hot sparks streaking through her a.s.s to pool behind her c.l.i.t. Prue gritted her teeth and hung on.

"I know how strong you are, how stubborn," he said. "I want you to fight it. You're not to come until I tell you." A light smack that nearly destroyed her. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, d.a.m.n you! I-nngh-get it!"

Erik placed his lips between her shoulder blades and made a noise against her skin that went beyond words, a sort of purring growl, redolent of dark antic.i.p.ation and masculine satisfaction. Sliding his hands down the fronts of her thighs, he gripped her knees and pulled her legs back straight, lowering her flat to the surface of the bed, her hips still slightly elevated by the pillow.

Startled, Prue tried to turn her head, but he slid his arms up under her to curl strong fingers back over her shoulders. The heated width of his chest lowered slowly to rest all along her spine, his body sealed to hers so that she was pinned, utterly helpless. Erik nuzzled her neck, licking a long, sizzling line up her pulse.

"Now," he growled in his dark velvet voice, "now I'm going to f.u.c.k you, Prue, like you've never been f.u.c.ked before."

Prue had gone beyond speech, but G.o.ds, it was the oddest position. It would never work, it- Erik began to move, setting up a long, deliberate stroke, and she realized at once how little she'd understood. Each withdrawal was a dark, fiery drag past the unyielding curves of the plug, each thrust back in a thick, luscious invasion. The angle was shallow, but perfect, his c.o.c.k long as well as wide, so that as he picked up the pace, he hit her c.l.i.t from behind with each thrust. When his flesh smacked into hers, his weight jarred the plug, jostling it. Erik was everywhere-in her s.e.x, her a.s.s, his huge body blanketing hers with power, his hoa.r.s.e breath hot and moist against her throat.

She'd thought she'd had some idea of what it meant to submit, to give control to another, but even her most vivid imaginings had been nothing like this. The pleasure was so dark, so overwhelming, her vision began to haze. Panicked, she thrashed beneath him, tugging against the ropes.

Erik slowed, though he didn't entirely stop. "I've got you, love." He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "You're safe."

The darkness receded somewhat. Beyond pride, stripped bare, Prue slipped one hand free of the bonds and reached back to bury it in his hair. She turned her head to meet his eyes. "Promise?"

"On my honor." The smile that curved his lips was suffused with a bittersweet tenderness. "You're strong and beautiful, and I love you." He kissed the inside of her forearm. "Ready for more?" His hips moved in an instinctive shimmy he seemed unable to prevent.

Prue hissed at the lightning whips of sensation. "I feel like I might pa.s.s out."

"No, you won't. I'll catch you." Another heart-wrenching smile. "I'll never let you fall."

Prue wriggled her hips, clenching on his hardness. "Please."

His eyes darkened. "Wait, let me . . ." She felt his knuckles brush her b.u.t.tocks, a snap and a small noise as he threw the c.o.c.k ring aside. "Oh, f.u.c.k-" A tide of red ran up from his throat to his cheeks. "Remember," he rasped. "Not 'til I say."

With that, he was surging into her, deep, hard strokes with his full, fat length, giving her no quarter.

Not that she wanted any, because she was flying on the relentless physical stimulation, as high as if she rode a gathering storm front of purple-dark clouds. The fierce pressure in her a.s.s and her s.e.x merged into an imperative she could no longer deny, swelling behind her quivering c.l.i.t. The pleasure had become so acute, it approached exquisite agony.

Inexorably, the storm swept closer, no matter how she struggled to hold it back.

Her head thrashed on the pillow. "Erik!"

The rhythm paused for a second, then resumed. "Ten seconds," he growled. "Count with me. Ten, nine, eight-"

In sheer desperation, Prue grabbed his hand and sucked an index finger deep into her mouth, lashing at it with her tongue.

Erik made a guttural noise, a cross between a sob, a groan and a laugh. "f.u.c.k it! Now, love. Now! Now!"

The snap and recoil of the releasing tension made her buck and writhe. Keening around the hard finger in her mouth, Prue let herself tumble toward the dark. Flashing sparks of light darted across the inside of her eyelids, stars and comets and haloes of lightning. She was dissolving, spinning, losing her grip on consciousness. G.o.ds, this degree of intensity wasn't possible, she'd never, never- Erik caught her, as he'd promised he would, his cheek pressed to hers, his deep voice calling her name, pulling her back into his heat, his solidity and strength. Prue gasped and shook with reaction, tears streaking her cheeks.

He stiffened, his hips jerking as he poured his life, his essence, into her body. "Love you," he groaned into her neck. "Love, love you."

She pressed back against him, clenching her internal muscles, making it as good for him as she could. For endless, precious seconds, he froze, buried deep, his pulse marching with hers. At last, he relaxed with a shuddering sigh. "Ah, Prue."

In the silence, she could hear their breaths rasping together. After a moment, he braced himself on his elbows. "You all right?"

Prue swallowed. "Not sure."

Gently, Erik withdrew and rolled aside. He gazed deep into her eyes, his own shining a deep and vivid blue. Whatever he saw, he seemed to be rea.s.sured, because he leaned forward to press his lips against hers. "Back in a minute." He loosed the last of the silken ropes. "Close your eyes. Rest."

Prue did as she was bid, rousing only to murmur a sleepy protest when he removed the plug and made her comfortable with a warm, wet cloth. She sensed movement, water running in the bath chamber. Returning, he patted her dry, then settled beside her, arranging her body to his satisfaction, her head tucked into his shoulder, her palm resting over his heart.

He curled a lock of her hair around one finger. "You're a wicked woman, Prue McGuire."

"Mmm?"

"You tipped me over before I was ready. I should beat you."

Prue dragged the scent of his skin into her lungs, nuzzling her nose into the pit of his throat. "Not now. In the morning."

His fingertips skated over her hip in slow, wobbly circles. "I proved my point," he said at last, not sounding any too pleased.

Prue yawned. "Uh-huh."

"You did something for me you've never done before. Because of the Voice."

But she hadn't. She'd done it because she was a grown woman who knew her own mind. Her decision had already been made when he'd spoken to her in that extraordinary way. Merciful Sister, she had to admit it had been everything she'd dreamed of-a life-altering experience. She hadn't had the slightest desire to resist, Voice or no Voice, though she could have, she was sure. She should let him know that, stop him taking it all so seriously.

Prue opened her mouth to tell him, but exhaustion tugged at her in great dark waves, so that all she could manage was, "N-nonsense."

The last thing she heard was Erik's sigh as he stroked her hair.

31.

A light breeze drifted in through the open window, bringing with it the scent of a world newly washed and the singing cla.s.s working its way through a series of arpeggios. How lovely, thought Prue, settling her cheek on the pile of papers on her desk. Ah, that was better. Her body felt like well-worked putty, every muscle humming and utterly content. She purred, wriggling a little in the chair, relishing the frisson that ran down her spine to spread over the cheeks of her bottom. Sweet Sister, she still couldn't quite credit what she'd done-what she'd allowed, trusted Erik to do to her. There was nothing left of Prue McGuire that wasn't his.

How had he known? Just enough and no more. Even the tenderness deep within was welcome, her internal tissues still tingling with the memory of ecstasy.

Erik's voice rose on the air, his deep bell tones flirting with the silvery timbre of the flute. Prue's yawn finished with a smile. A love song, and it felt as if he sang it for her alone. It sounded ancient, the words exquisitely simple, describing the singer's first sight of his beloved's face. He'd thought the sun rose in her eyes. A tear trickled down and plopped onto a column of figures. Hastily, she sat up to deal with the blot.

With the movement, a tendril of unease unfurled in the pit of her stomach. Prue banished it, but it sneaked back, bringing a host of whispering brethren. A chill spread over her, until even her fingertips were cold.

Someone wished him ill. Behind her eyelids, she saw Dai's lithe body bent up like a bow in his agony. Oh G.o.ds, prettydeath prettydeath! Her skin crawled with the presentiment of evil. Erik was a singer, a performer performer, for the Sister's sake. Yes, there was power in that tall, athletic physique, but what would he know of violence? Her fingers went white on the ink brush.

Last night, or rather early this morning, she'd collapsed, asleep the moment he settled beside her. Dimly, she'd been aware of the big body spooned around hers, the heavy arm he threw around her waist. Murmuring her content, she'd snuggled. It seemed only a moment before he was nuzzling her cheek, stroking her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her belly, her b.u.t.tocks.

"Sweetheart," he'd whispered. "It's dawn. I have to get something from the boarding house and be back before singing cla.s.s. Kiss me."

Without opening her eyes, she rolled over and offered her mouth. He'd taken it as if he owned it. Long, languorous kisses, her hands smoothing over his beautiful shoulders and strong spine, then clinging hard, fingers gripping.

Panting, he'd forced himself away and she blinked up at him, standing naked and magnificently aroused by the bed. "f.u.c.k, woman, don't look at me like that."