Hallowed Circle (11 page)

He worked up the back of my neck, then down to the muscles below my collarbone. He paused with his thumbs stroking little circles onto my skin while his fingers lay innocent and still just where my breasts began to round. As he worked his way across my shoulders, he pushed the spaghetti straps so they fell to the side.

“Some massage oil that warms with friction would make this even better,” he whispered.

I could feel his breath on my skin. “Yeah. It probably would.”

“I might have some in my room. Let’s go up there.”

I started laughing.

He stopped rubbing. “What?”

Over my shoulder I said, “You have to admit that wasn’t exactly subtle or slick.”

He crossed his arms in mock indignation. “That oil is
very
slick.”

I laughed again.

The TV went dark and mute.

“Tell me, Red,” Johnny slipped his warm hands onto my shoulders again. “How would you have me win you over?” He kissed my ear then whispered, “Would you have me continue the suggestive wordplay for an hour to win your mind?” He licked my earlobe. “Would you have me overpower you and take you?” His hands squeezed tighter on my shoulders, an indication of the strength he could use to do just that. But I didn’t fear him; my muscles reacted by melting under the pressure. He nuzzled lower and put his lips to my neck while his hands slid lightly to my breasts. Sensations flowed over my skin, igniting every nerve. “Would you let
me
have control? Would you dare that?”

Sitting completely still, I was very aware of my heartbeat quickening.

“I want you, Red,” he whispered. He scented me, knew I was responding. His touch grew lighter still, then his hands left my shoulders and he sat back, not touching me at all. I looked up at him over my shoulder and saw that his dark eyes brimmed with desire.

His hands rested on either side of him, palms up and open. “Would you prefer to be in control?” His voice was so soft, so soothing, yet it readily stoked the heat of my desire. “Would you take pleasure from me on your own terms?”

I wanted him every way and any way. Nana and
Beverley were sleeping. Ares was in Beverley’s room. We had time. He wanted me. I wanted him. I wanted him
now
.

I stood before him. Slowly, I lifted my nightshirt. In the soft glow of the yardlight streaming in through the window, I watched his face as the rising fabric revealed the curve of my breasts. I lifted higher. He squirmed a little and rested his hands once again on the cushions to either side of him, palms down this time.

I dropped my shirt to the floor.

I turned away, let the shorts drop, and stepped out of them. I was wearing nothing now but white cotton bikini panties.

I bent to pick up the shorts, keeping my legs straight, grateful for being flexible. Johnny’s throat rumbled approval. I didn’t straighten up, but shifted to see the potently male expression on his face, mouth slightly open, nostrils flaring as he inhaled my scent again. His eyes took in every inch of me. His fingers dug into the corduroy cushions, fisting the fabric.

When I stood up and faced him, he jerked his denim shirt off and threw it to the floor, revealing the Celtic knot tattoos around his arms. The black bands had small images of wolves worked into the design. My eyes drank in the lean, muscular figure of this man, this man I was about to—

Sliding one knee onto the couch, I put my fingers to his brow, playing with his hair. My hand ran through those silky waves and came to rest on his shoulder. Leaning down, I watched him assess my breasts, the mixed wonder and lust on his face. I whispered, “Touch me, Johnny.”

One hand rose to stroke the curving mound. My breath came faster. He filled both hands with the weight of my breasts, lifting them, stroking, the heat of his touch inflaming me more.

My hand slid to the bottom of his tank top. I yanked it up, pulling it off as he moved to allow me to take it. Sliding my other knee onto the couch, I straddled his hard, muscular thighs. His arms, still raised from the removal of his shirt, came down around me, hands caressing my hair as he pulled me into a kiss. It started gently, a soft brush of lips, but as his mouth opened to me and I tasted him, a deep hunger built upon immense desire. I sucked at his tongue and licked at his lips even as my fingers found the jeans zipper and released it.

I pulled from the kiss. “You do it.”

Our eyes locked, my fingers ran though his hair as he worked his jeans down. When he settled back onto the cushion, I eased onto his thighs again. His hands went to my back, gliding to my hips. My fingers trailed down his abdomen to the hot, velvety smoothness of his cock, rigid and erect.

Johnny sucked a breath through his teeth as I caressed the length of him.

I took him into my hands and my own need redoubled. I was already so wet. I wanted to explore him, to map every contour of him, but I wanted him inside me more. It had been a long time since I felt the heat of a man inside me.

Gripping my breasts, he squeezed lightly, thumbs rubbing my nipples. He leaned forward, kissing each breast, alternately sucking and using his teeth to graze each tip.

I moaned.

Taking that as a sign, he ripped one side of my panties, then the other. The fabric dropped away. “Take me, Red.” His fingers stroked between my legs, spreading my wetness. My thighs quivered at his touch. “Fuck me,” he whispered. His head fell back against the couch and he groaned. “Please, fuck me.
Now
.”

Easing down, I felt him slide into me, so hard. His hands held my ass, fingers spread, and I could feel wære strength and need trembling all through him. He could have pulled me onto him savagely, but he didn’t. He just kept his hands on me, firmly.

“Don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered. “You do it. Take me. Ride me.”

He feared his own wære strength.

My knees spread farther apart and slowly I slid completely onto Johnny’s cock. I jerked my hips up, then thrust down.

“More,” I said, breathless. Johnny rose to meet my thrust. “Yes.”

Grinding hard against him, over and over, felt so good. I threw my head back, captivated by how complete each stroke felt, how if I rolled my pelvis a little right
then,
right
there,
that sweet heat flickered through me. The muscles of his thighs bunched then flexed with each thrust. His eagerness fed mine.

Wanting to gauge his reaction to this moment, I studied his face. Last night, the candlelight warmed the color of his skin, made his eyes like shadows. Now, with only stray light pressing at the windows, the dimness was cold, the darkness more complete. But it was perfect for
him. Although he seemed to watch from the depths of a cave like a predator hiding, his beast was ready to roar in triumph.

His lips parted. “I know what you want,” he said. Suddenly employing his wære strength, placing his arms around me, he leaned into me and I felt his thighs flex as he pushed up to stand on his feet. My arms encircled his shoulders, my legs wrapping around his waist. Hands cupping my ass, he lifted me on and off of him, slowly, so I was aware of every inch. It left me shaking with desperate need. My senses flooded with hyperawareness, as in a moment of danger when time slows. I heard each gasp of breath like a slow breeze. I felt each touch, each pulsing sensation, a hundred times over. My need rose up like a fierce creature of desire. I began working my body vigorously, swiveling my hips, feeling strong and impatient as I rode him until I couldn’t breathe.

Clenching him with every muscle, I would have screamed if my lungs had air. My body throbbed, reverberating with pleasure so intense I went utterly still, while Johnny continued to pound into me.

My orgasm was so ruthlessly concentrated, each time he lifted me, it seemed another started, though the previous had not fully receded before the next began. I gasped quick, shallow breaths, only to moan them away.

Suddenly, Johnny thrust into me and held me, his face buried against my neck, teeth clamping onto me, pressing but not biting. A growl burst from his throat, a deep guttural, rumbling growl of release matching the new heat erupting inside of me.

He lifted me again, thrusting hard, once. Twice. My
orgasm started anew. My legs squeezed around him and I cried out. He panted into my neck and started again, pounding himself relentlessly into my deepest self.

Johnny sat on the couch again, but this time my legs around his waist kept him from sinking into the cushions. We caught our breaths, still embracing, still intimately entwined, enervated, and wrapped in afterglow that could have lit up the night.

Johnny rubbed my back, hands so warm. “Wow,” he whispered.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. It wasn’t just the physical exertion, the sublime sex. It was fear.

I felt lost and scared and as if I were teetering on the edge of a razor. If I moved, the
next
moment would start … and I didn’t know what kind of moment it was going to be.

Was the magnificent sex due to the stain? A vampire’s stain never made anything better unless you paid dearly for it. Sex like this could be addictive. Was the stain sinking its barbs further into me, controlling, changing, devouring me?

Or was this real? Was the man holding me, cuddling me—shit! Cuddling me!—was he everything he seemed to be?

Either way, nothing in my life would ever be the same. I’d just gone and completely altered my world again in a whole new way.

Johnny started playing with my hair. He craned his neck, trying to see my face; I didn’t want him to. I needed
another moment to build my resolve to master myself and be ready for whatever came next.

Johnny’s hands firmly maneuvered me until I was sitting up on his lap and his fingers strayed over my breasts again. He sighed with tired satisfaction. “So beautiful in the dark.”

I smiled, ambiguously. A compliment.

Wearing a lopsided grin, he tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. “I could hold you on this couch all night.”

“But Nana and Beverley will be down early!”

His grin faded and his expression went blank. “You’re right. Why don’t you go on up to your room and sleep.” He caressed my cheek. “I’ll go to mine.”

Separation. Breathing room. Good. Time to gather my thoughts. I hoped my mind blossomed with so many thoughts I could bouquet a varied selection of wildflower ideas. Right now, my mind felt like barren desert sands.

Grateful, and fearful, I made myself meet his eyes.

He caressed my cheek. “The beach is always there, Red. High tide. Low tide.”

So we were both thinking about sand. Mine was arid and lifeless; his was the transition from one fertile world to another.

I didn’t need Freud to point out what that revealed.

I leaned in to give him a quick kiss, but his hand slipped behind my neck and held me there for a long one. His lips were so soft, yet firm. Even his kisses were earnest. When it ended, I eased off him and gathered my clothes and torn undies. Legs shaking and unsteady, I fled, without so much as a good night to him.

Distracted by my vacillating mind, I forgot to set my clock to alarm. I overslept.

I rushed down the steps. My feet stopped short at the bottom. Johnny was cleaning something off on the couch. “Morning, Red. I spilled coffee”—he coughed—“on your couch here.” He gave me a wink. “Sorry.”

We’d spotted the couch. I hadn’t even thought of that.

“If this laundry soap mix doesn’t get it out, I’ll try something else, okay?” He peeked into the kitchen, then came at me as if he would steal a hug or a kiss.

I backpedaled.

He stopped.

“That’s okay,” I stammered. “It’s a slipcover anyway. It can be washed.”

“You all right?” he whispered, obviously puzzled.

“I—I don’t want Nana to know,” I whispered back. “She’ll be merciless in her teasing.”

“Are you up now, Seph?” Nana’s voice croaked from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” I said.

Despite his clear disappointment, Johnny gave me a “go
on” nod. I hurried down the hall. Beverley was pushing her unicorn lunchbox into her bookbag. Remembering how she’d cradled that lunchbox in her arms when we got her things from the apartment, my heart went out to her. She’d told me that Lorrie always made her lunch, and always clipped a cartoon from the newspaper to put in with it. I wondered if her lunchbox seemed emptier without it.

“Sleepyhead,” she said.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“I made her lunch.” Nana’s cigarette smoldered on the edge of a round ashtray on the far side of the counter. “Brush your teeth,” she added to Beverley.

“Right.” She bolted down the hall and up the stairs.

I resolved to get a kids’ joke book, to copy out a joke each day to put in Beverley’s lunchbox. Not her mom’s thing, but something else, similar. I promised myself I’d get that book today. “Thanks, Nana. I forgot to set my alarm.”

Johnny entered and tossed the rag into the laundry room.

“Are you going to live here all winter, Johnny?”

We both straightened at Nana’s question.