Dreamer (18 page)

She felt like a coward for beating a hasty retreat, but
discussing Devon's possible feelings with his mother was so not going to
happen.

The lines around Nuri's mouth deepened as she smiled and
gave Shan another hug. “Be careful, little one. You have attracted the attention
of some dark gods. I—” Nuri hesitated and glanced at Johnathan. “I wish I could
help you more.”

Devon's voice rumbled on the other side of the door, and
Shan turned to it instinctively.

Johnathan said from the bed, “Better join my son before
Aliya decides to chew him out again.”

Shan gave them a final wave before going out into the
hallway where Devon stood talking to someone. His broad shoulders blocked who
it was, but the scent of Malik’s psychic scent identified him before she saw
him.

Malik sidestepped Devon and took Shan's hand, holding it out
and admiring her. The dark blue button-down shirt he wore brought out the amber
flecks in his eyes and clung to his broad shoulders. He was undeniably
handsome, but he didn't stir the same rush of sensations and emotions that
Devon did. “Shan, you look good enough to eat.”

The low and suggestive timbre of his voice, combined with
the memory of the women in the locker room talking about his pussy-eating
talents, had her blushing scarlet. “Thanks.”

“I picked out her clothes,” Devon said in a smug voice and
edged closer to Shan.

Giving the palm of her hand a caress with his thumb, Malik
dropped her hand and studied them. “Yours?” he asked in a grumpy voice.

“Mine,” Devon said and slipped his arm around her waist.

Trying to push Devon's arm away, she scowled up at him.
“Easy there, caveman. The only person I belong to is myself.” Both men laughed
at this, and she scowled at them. “What are you doing here, Malik?”

The smile faded from his face, and Malik gazed out the
window. “My mentor is in a room down the hall.” He looked back at her, and a
ghost of his ever-present grin returned. “I felt all the power Devon and his
mother were throwing off as they argued. I came to investigate, but the wicked
nurse of the west wing beat me to it.”

Snickering, Devon placed his hand on her lower back. His
warmth seemed to melt right through the cloth of her dress, and her body heated
beneath his touch. His pupils dilated with desire, and he murmured, “Shields.”

Blushing furiously, she strengthened her shields and avoided
their knowing gazes. It really irritated her how easily Devon turned her into a
puddle of goo. Well, irritated and aroused her. Gods, she was messed up. She
took a step away from Devon and mourned the loss of his touch at the same time
that she felt a flash of satisfaction at the tightening around his eyes.

Devon glanced at his watch. “Will you be at the Hunt?”

“Yep. I wish the world would stop going to shit so I can go
pick out my mount. What about you?”

“I'll be there, and so will Shan.”

“What?” Malik's eyes grew wide.

“Yeah, my mom has her riding for Isis.”

“Whoa. Do you think Isis wants her?”

Shan gave them both a glare. “Hey, I'm right here, ya know.”

Malik's mouth grew tight. “Here comes the wicked witch,” he
muttered, and his broad shoulders grew tight.

They all turned and watched Aliya stalk down the hallway
toward them. Her hazel eyes flitted over them and settled on Malik. “Mister
Malik, do I have to kick you off my floor again?” she said, a growl rumbling in
her voice.

Shan and Devon exchanged an amused glance as Malik lifted
his chin and said in a low voice, “I wasn't doing anything.”

Aliya sniffed and turned to Shan and Devon.

“We were just going,” Shan said and tugged Devon toward the
elevators. Aliya nodded, but her gaze kept darting back to Malik.

Once they were down the hall, Shan turned to Devon and found
him staring at her. “It’s not polite to stare.”

“You're right, Kitten. It is impolite to stare.” His thumb
stroked her lower back beneath the sash around her waist. “I think we'll have
to work on your manners.”

“But—” Her protest was silenced by a kiss. Hard, demanding,
his full lips captured hers as his tongue traced over her lips. Groaning, she
opened for him and sagged in his arms as his cock grew hard against her.
Fierce, skilled, he kissed her until her blood pounded in her ears.

“For God’s sake, get a room,” Malik yelled down the hallway,
and Aliya shushed him with a growl.

The elevator dinged, and Devon pulled away slowly, dragging
his lips across hers. Shan drew in a ragged breath and stepped back on unsteady
feet. Her whole body sang with pleasure, and the look in Devon's eyes made her
wish with all her heart that they were alone right now.

The sound of arguing echoed down the hallway, and Shan looked
beyond Devon. Malik and Aliya were almost nose-to-nose, yelling at each other.
Devon started toward them, but Shan dragged him into the elevator and slammed
the button for their floor. A muffled shriek of feminine rage, followed by
Malik's laughter, came from behind the elevator doors as they closed.

They stared at each other for a moment before Devon said, “I
wonder what kind of flowers Malik wants at his funeral.”

As she hurried keep up with Devon Shan's boots clicked on
the dark marble floors of the Temple Guards’ Headquarters. They were the focus
of many curious looks, but Devon's ground-eating stride kept the rest of the
guards at bay.

“So, what are we doing here?” One of the female guards she
recognized from the soaking pool raised her hand in greeting and gave Shan an
amused grin. She really hated being short and taking two steps for every one of
Devon's.

“I have some business to attend to in my office, and we have
to pick up your cloak.”

A passing guard gave her an appreciative glance, and Devon
slowed down enough to slip his hand around hers. She bit back a smile and
glanced at their fingers intertwined. A giddy feeling at his public display of
affection bubbled in her heart, and she tried to keep it under control. Sure, he’d
taken her to meet his parents, but that didn't mean anything. He had to take
her everywhere with him. And this wasn't junior high. Holding hands didn't mean
they were serious.

That didn’t stop the butterflies in her belly.

They passed a large open room full of desks separated by low
gray dividers. A pretty blonde woman in a red suit smiled at the sight of Devon
then frowned when he ignored her. Shan tried to pretend she didn't notice the
nasty look the woman gave her before turning to the brunette sitting at the
desk next to her. A flurry of whispers rose up behind them, and Shan kept her
gaze straight ahead.

Her hand felt so small in his as his thumb stroked along her
skin. They stopped at a closed wooden door with a keypad instead of a handle.
Devon punched a code into the lock and tugged her in after him as the door slid
open.

The walls were the same pale green as his apartment, and a
small window looked out over the busy street below. A few cactuses perched on
the edge of the windowsill, and a large oil painting of the ocean dominated the
far wall. His big, polished mahogany desk faced the window and stacks of paper
and files covered its surface and overflowed onto the floor.

Releasing her hand, he gestured to the small and worn
leather sofa pressed between a pair of old metal filing cabinets. “Have a seat,
Shan. I need to check my email.”

After tossing her purse on one of the cabinets next to the
couch, she walked around the small room while he studied his computer screen. A
glint of metal caught her eye in the corner of the room. It took her a moment
of staring at the round object to realize what it was—an umbrella stand filled
with swords instead of umbrellas.

“This isn't a good way to store blades, you know.” She
pulled one out by its worn grip and studied the edge. Dull, it showed the signs
of much wear and abuse.

“My students' practice swords,” he said in a rumbling voice
from his desk. “When they graduate from apprentice to full guard, I give them
their first sword, and they give me their practice blade.”

“Neat.” Shan counted the hilts. There had to be at least two
dozen. “Wow, you've had a lot of students.”

A grunt met this response. After sliding the nicked blade
back into the umbrella holder, she resumed her wandering. Keys clicked as he
typed on the computer, and she allowed herself the opportunity to study him
while he worked. Even sitting behind a desk, he projected danger. There was the
potential for action, for violence in his every move and she looked down at his
hands, noting the scars across them and wondering where they all came from. The
memory of those strong and scarred fingers brushing over her skin brought a
flush of heat.

He glanced up at her, and she quickly looked away. The room
grew warm as his psychic scent brushed against her, soft as the stroke of silk.
While he might be sitting on the other side of the room, his aura was running
over her skin almost like his hand. Putting an extra sway into her hips, she
sauntered over to the window, pretending to look down at the street. In reality,
her world had begun to narrow to him. She felt another brush of his energy, and
this time it saturated the air with his scent.

She stole a peek at him through her lashes and found him
still staring at his computer screen. The afternoon light highlighted his sharp
bone structure and the blade of his nose over his full and delicious lips. A
wave of heat moved through her pussy as she imagined those lips working her
nipples.

Moving the mouse, Devon said, “Kitten, take your panties
off.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and considered telling him no.
He glanced up at her and raised his eyebrows. Desire coiled in her stomach, and
she reached beneath her skirt, sliding the pink panties down her legs and over
her boots. Unsure what to do next, she balled her damp underwear in her fist
and set them on the windowsill next to a small potted cactus.

“Good girl. Now, turn around and bend over, clutching your
ankles.”

“Wha—” His expression grew dark, and she swallowed back her
question. A tremble moved through her body as she slowly turned and tried to
think beyond her body’s hunger. She instinctively wanted to please him, and
that scared her. A war raged between what she needed and what society said was
wrong and degrading. Just because she wanted to submit to a man in the privacy
of her bedroom…or in this case his office didn’t mean she needed psychological
help.

“Kitten, what are you thinking?”

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “Nothing.”

His sigh washed over her. The squeak of his chair sliding
across the carpet was the only indication of his movement. “We need to get one
thing clear, right now.” His aura wrapped around her, gentle but strong.

Clasping her hands together, she struggled to remain still
as his big hands skimmed over the sides of her waist. “If this is going to
work, we need to be totally honest with each other.” His hands settled over
hers and gently pulled them apart. “I won't do anything you don't want, ever.
You are in control of this situation. What is your safe word?”

The rushing of her blood filled her ears. “Ice.” Relaxing
minutely, she leaned back into his arms. So big, so dangerous, yet he made her
feel safe. Cherished. “I'm scared.”

The warmth of his skin against her back sank into her body
and rekindled her desire. Still stroking her hands, he moved them up her body
until they both clasped her breasts. “What are you scared of?”

“You.” That wasn't entirely the truth, but she was feeling
vulnerable as it was. Vulnerable and incredibly turned on.

He released her hands and unzipped the back of her dress.
Pulling it down her shoulders and over her arms, it pooled around her waist.
“Do you think I would hurt you?”

Not wanting to offend him, she hesitated. His lips moved
over her shoulder, and the tip of his nose rubbed against the bruise there. He
began to softly lick and kiss her tender flesh, soothing her with his mouth in
the most decadent manner possible.

“Was this too much for you?”

“No,” she gasped out.

Teeth grazed the bruise and set it to a throb that traveled
straight to her clit. That little nub of flesh grew hard and sensitive. Using
one big hand, he pinned her wrists together behind her back. Unable to help
herself, she struggled against him even as the realization that she couldn't
move made her pussy clench with need.

“Does that feel good?” Using his free hand, he teased her
left nipple from the lace cup of her bra.

“Yes.” She practically purred as he clasped the dusky tip
and gave it a firm tug.

“Yes, what?” Thick and firm, his erection pressed against
her back.

It took a moment for her mind to rise above the primal state
he was putting her in. “Yes, Master.”

A startled squeak worked out of her throat as he picked her
up and carried her over to his desk. Sliding over a stack of papers, he put her
down so she faced him.

“I love your nipples,” he said and slipped his hands into
her bra, pulling her breasts out of the cups. “Your safe word is ice. Use it
only if you have to. I trust you to be honest with me and not use it just
because you're uncomfortable.”

“Yes, sir.” Anticipation brought a rush of endorphins
through her body, and her inner thighs were sticky with her liquid arousal.

Watching her carefully, he began to pinch and pull on her
nipples. The pleasure grew into an ache that bordered on pain. She squirmed
against his hands, fighting between pulling away and asking for more.

“Look at these pretty nipples,” he said in a low whisper.
“Stiff and dark, they're standing out like pencil erasers.”

Kneeling in front of her, he captured one hard peak and
sucked it into his mouth. She ran her hands over his head, delighting in the
feeling of his bare skin with the soft bit of hair. She loved the sight of his
hands on her body, his mouth tormenting her nipple. Crouched before her like
this she was deliciously aware of how big he was, how strong.

He pulled away, and she couldn't help the little whine of
displeasure that escaped her. Chuckling, he reached behind her and then held up
two paper clips. She gave him a confused look, and he stroked them over her
nipples.

“Decoration.”

“I don—” That statement turned into a breathless scream as
he pried open the side of one of the paperclips and fastened it onto her
nipple. It hurt, and she jerked away from his touch.

“Easy, Kitten.” Capturing her abused nipple in his hand, his
tongue lightly danced over the tip. Erotic lightning shot through her body, and
she gasped, shaking with the sensation. Still lightly licking at the metal
pressing into her aching nipple, he slipped the other paper clip on, and she
dug her nails into his shoulders.

“Is that too much?” His hand stroked up her thigh and traced
over the slick lips of her labia. She couldn't answer, embarrassed and aroused
at her reaction to the pain. “No, I don't think so. You're pussy is wet and
oh-so swollen.” Little bursts of electricity mingled with his touch. “Spread
your legs.”

Her body complied before her mind processed his command. The
heat from his fingers tracing the sensitive skin where her inner thigh met her
pelvis had her dancing beneath his skilled caress. The touch at once tickled
and aroused her. Everything seemed to take on more depth, more feeling, when
Devon touched her.

The sensation of his muscles moving beneath the soft cloth
of his shirt maddened her. She wanted the skin beneath, to feel his body and to
lose herself in him. Unsure if it was allowed, her hands trembled at his
waistband, and she gave the edge of his shirt a hesitant tug as his fingers
continued to stroke everywhere but where she wanted.

“Hands behind your head,” he snapped and stepped away from
her. Disappointment and need had her wiggling beneath his heated gaze. Lacing
her fingers behind her head, she took a deep breath as the movement pulled on
her nipples. “Good girl,” he said with a low growl and tipped her head up. It
was so hard to meet his gaze, knowing that he could read the desire to please
in her eyes. “Do you want me to remove my shirt?”

His big finger brushed over the end of one paperclip, and
she winced at the bolt of pain that ran from her nipple right to her clit.
Dropping her gaze, she nodded and gripped her hands tighter behind her head.
Struggling to catch her breath, she nodded.

“I can't hear you.” He roughly gripped her chin and forced
her to look at him. So handsome, his face shut down into a cold and demanding
mask that had her panting.

“Yes, sir.” The words came out in a choked voice, and she
was surprised to find herself on the edge of tears. Everything he did made her
feel so vulnerable, so alive. Despite the arguments of her rational mind, she
relaxed into his grip and ran her tongue over her lower lip.

“Gods,” he said before capturing her lips in a kiss that had
her toes curling. The tip of his finger nudged at her clit. Still kissing her,
he said against her lips, “Your clit is so hard. It's standing out like a
little cock.”

His rough words brought a blush to her face even as she
sucked on his lower lip. The strain of holding her arms up added a new torment,
and she tried to roll her shoulders.

“Arms hurt?” he asked and gently pulled at the clip on her
nipple.

“Yes, sir.”

“Let's take your mind off it. This is going to sting.”
Keeping his gaze on her, he gently removed one of the paperclips, and she gave
a small scream. Sensation returned with the rush of blood, and her hips thrust
forward as he sucked at the tip. Soft tongue, sharp pain, and the psychic scent
of Devon had her pussy throbbing.

Steeling herself, she bit her lip as his fingers brushed the
other clip. “You're doing so good, Kitten.” His praise warmed her to the core,
and she closed her eyes against the tears. One of his hands clamped over her
mouth as he removed the other paperclip, muffling her scream. “Lovely.” He
thumbed her abused nipple. “I could spend all day torturing your breasts.”

Rubbing her pussy against the rough seam of his jeans, she
could only moan in response. The pain was beginning to fade under the power of
her need. How could she have denied herself these sensations for all of these
years? It was better than anything she had ever felt. Utterly addictive.