Runes (4 page)

Her pale breasts were exposed. She was braless, her nipples straining. Her hand at the back of his head guided him to one, urging him to suckle it. He lightly bit it, and she moaned. He lifted his gaze to hers, to study her against the deep red of the carpet.

Her eyes were half-lidded with pleasure, and her mouth was still moist with his kisses. He brought his mouth down hard against hers, grinding her delicious flesh beneath his lips, and the sandpaper of his five o’clock shadow.

She begged to feel the scrape of his unshaven jaw against her skin.“Sean. You know what I need. You know how to satisfy me. You, only you.” Her throaty voice was a hot match to his kindling. He ignited.

Roughly, he knelt over her and tore off her skirt. It fell to the floor. And then he was kissing her, scraping her face with his beard as she raked her nails over his back. The pleasure mixed with pain drove him a notch higher, and his cock hardened unbearably.

She was making the soft cooing gasps that unfailingly sent him over the edge. He unzipped his pants and pinched the head of his cock hard to keep from exploding. But then her hands were taking over, her slender fingers shoving the denim down his hips before plunging under the waist of his boxer briefs.

He froze, gritting his teeth against the need to explode in her hot hand. But no. He wanted to spurt his seed deep inside of her. To stop her from flicking the sensitive underside of his cock and balls, he pulled himself from her grasp and dove between the silky flesh of her thighs. Her hips bucked upward, seeking the moist heat of his mouth, but he spent a long minute enjoying the sight of her.

The pink petals of her pussy fell open slightly, glistening with moisture. The dark curls were kept short on her pubis, but shaven about the sensitive nub. He’d never seen her clit so swollen with need.

Her fingers sank into his hair, and she pulled him against her. “Please, Sean.”

He cupped her ass and drew her to him with the maddening slowness he knew would drive her to the brink, then impaled her on his tongue.

Her first cries of bliss were coupled with the sweet juices bathing his tongue. His cock bobbed between his legs, seeking his own release, but he gloried in this part of their lovemaking and would not be rushed. He plunged his tongue into her honey hole, raising more cries from her. Her fist thumped on his shoulder. His chest rumbled with a silent laugh as he tormented her.

“Sean.”

He knew what she wanted. Her sweet pleasure nub pressed insistently against him with the thrust of her hips. So when he slowly removed his tongue and enveloped the object of her need with his mouth, her cry of ecstasy echoed throughout the soaring space.

She was near release. She’d gone too long with her snatch bared beneath her skirt. He could taste the thickening juices, which meant she was about to come. Feeling his own impending explosion, he gathered her clit into his mouth and sucked hard. The first wave of her orgasm made her stiffen, and soon she was pumping her cunt against his mouth.

Without allowing her to come down, he surged upward and drove inside her. Insane by the feel of her flesh hugging his shaft, he pushed into her again and again. The walls of her womb still clenched from her last orgasm when he felt her splinter.

His balls squeezed tight against his body, and he exploded, shoving his rod into her hot pussy as he unloaded in long, intense spurts. She came, and he watched her face. Her pale lips parted, the pink flush climbing from her naked breasts to her hairline.

Her eyes opened, still glazed with the sensations pulsing through her. A swell of emotion washed over him. His throat was too thick to speak, so he covered her with his body, pressing her into the rug to keep her warm.

* * * *

From the doorway of the kitchen, Sean watched Evangeline make up the sofa bed. For weeks, she’d refused to sleep next to him. Even after making love, he would awaken to find her in the living room.

She stood frozen with a pillow in her grasp, staring blankly at the floor. Her fingers lifted to trace her tattoo. She didn’t hear him approach, and stayed still, head cocked, as though listening for a far-off sound. When he said her name, she jerked, her eyes blurred by tears. She blinked to clear them.

He took the pillow from her. “What’s the matter?”

“Just a headache.”

“Will you be all right while I’m at work?” he asked.

Usually, she accompanied him to the club, but tonight she’d refused. Afraid of what this meant, he’d stalled. Hell, if she’d let him lift her into his arms and whisk her off to his bed, he’d call in sick for the first time ever.

“I’ll probably watch old movies,” she said.

Not acceptable. His words bubbled out, boiling hot. “I love that you’re here with me, Evangeline. Say you won’t go yet.”

“Where?” Her eyelids fluttered. “I don’t have any place to go.”

“Don’t stay because of that. Stay because you want to be with me.” The clock ticked away the minutes, and the distance between them seemed to grow. Finally she gave him a heart-flipping smile.

“I love being with you, Sean.” Her words burned his heart, but a cold dread coated his flesh at her expression. She’d pressed the red mark at the corner of her eye hard with a forefinger. He worried about her headaches, and wondered if the tense set of her narrow shoulders could be because of him.

Evangeline sank to the sofa and tucked her knees to her chest, listening to the gates and grills clatter shut and lock. The tears she’d suppressed burned her chest, and she lowered her face and let them fall.

Evangeline.

The voice broke through her haze of pain, but only exacerbated it. She didn’t know how much longer she could conceal her craziness from Sean. Her mind echoed with voices day and night, filling her with terror. She feared her drug abuse, and past experiences with her father had driven her over the edge, and she was now the proud owner of a multiple personality disorder.

You’re not crazy,
the voice said.
Please don’t cry.

Shut up. Get out of my head.

The clang of the metal doors being opened again made her leap to her feet. She half-ran across the room, aware of a pinprick of light in her mind along with the sound of Jim Morrison and the scents of musk and cigarettes.

She longed for Sean’s arms and smoldering gaze. This time maybe she’d let him carry her to his bed and sleep all night against his protective chest.

Please, Evangeline. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.

She grabbed fistfuls of her hair and yanked as if she could pull him from her head.

The final door opened and she threw herself forward, only to be caught by a much taller stranger. She slammed into him, recoiling at the smell of pot and cheap beer.

“Whoa. This is my lucky day,” he exclaimed, holding her.

She struggled to break free of him, but he gripped her ass, and pressed her to his crotch. A scream ripped from her lungs, and he silenced her with a kiss. They tumbled backward together, her hip striking the concrete painfully. Pinned to the concrete, she fought for escape. His hard-on ground into her, digging her spine into the floor. Outraged, in pain, she bit him on the mouth. He reared up and back-handed her.

His huge hand rocked her head, smashing her teeth into her cheek, and she spat blood into his face, twisting and kicking with every ounce of strength. Inside her mind, Will was going berserk. His roars of fury assailed her, and her ears rang from the blow to her head. The intruder fumbled between his legs. She felt the length of his shaft on her bare thigh.

Why, oh why, had she worn the short skirt?

Don’t let him rape you,
Will’s voice warned.

She viciously jammed a knee upward, but her attacker anticipated her move and spread her legs wide, forcing a finger inside her. She shrieked until her vocal chords threatened to tear. In her head, Will sank his knuckles into a wall with a bone-jarring crack.

And then suddenly, the weight pinning her to the floor was gone.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of Sean’s dark hair. She rolled onto her side, gasping and crying. She struggled to her knees. The finger of her alter ego, Will Cochran, mentally stroked her tattoo, and she collapsed forward once again.

The brutal thuds of Sean’s blows reached her ears. Her head lolled to the side in time to see him deliver a kick to the sternum of her attacker. He fell forward, and Sean’s boot caught him squarely in the mouth. It exploded with streamers of blood and teeth. Sean picked him up by the shoulder and thigh and hurled him into the concrete. His head bounced sickeningly.

“Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops. Go on. Crawl if you have to,” Sean commanded, nudging him with several small kicks.

Evangeline crunched into a ball, just as she’d done when her father struck her. She clapped her hands over her ears, but the sound of her attacker dragging himself toward the door reached her.

Sean bellowed at him, his face purple with rage, his eyes glittering savagely. A strand of his shoulder-length hair caught on his lips, and Evangeline’s foggy mind zeroed in on its movement as he yelled.

Her attacker dragged himself arm over arm to the door. Sean reached down and swiped the keys to his apartment from his fist.

“I can’t believe I once called you friend,” he said in a deadly tone, and then hurled him out into the night. The doors slammed with four deafening crashes, and then Sean stomped across the floor to Evangeline and lifted her.

“Oh, my God. My God. Evangeline, are you okay? You’re safe. He’s gone, and believe me, he’ll never return. Jesus Christ. Look what that bastard did to your face. And your mouth is bleeding. Oh, baby, hold on.” He lifted her against his chest, and went down the hall to the bedroom. He tried to lower her to the bed, but she clung to him. Her lip was a ragged mess, and her head whirred. She still felt the invasion of her almost rapist’s finger, and bile swelled in the back of her throat.

“Evangeline. How hurt are you? Did he rape you?” Sean’s fingers traveled all over her body, lightly probing. His eyes loomed before her, but inside her mind she saw Will Cochran’s burning eyes, which were dark brown, too.

Sean left her for a moment, and she crumpled into a ball, her knees digging painfully into her chest. Her arms ached. Her chest shook with sobs.

Sean’s heavy, comforting weight jarred her as he gathered her into his arms again. A frigid, wet cloth against her cut lip made her suck in her breath.

“Motherfucker. How could he do this to you? Dammit. Why did I leave you alone tonight? I felt uneasy from the minute you said you weren’t coming. I never should have gone.”

“S. . . sean,” she whispered. He leaned in to hear. “Let me sleep here with you tonight. C . . cover me with your body and c. . . chase away his memory.”

He stretched out atop her, kissing her tears, silencing her tremors. But he could not quiet the man inside her head who chanted, "
Don’t fall in love with him. You’re mine, Evangeline Mayer, and I’m coming for you".

* * * *

Morning light streamed through the high windows of Sean’s apartment. Evangeline’s fingers rippled over the strings of her acoustic guitar. A song rose in her mind, and she gave herself up to it, releasing it to the still apartment. Singing eased her pain, and gave her an escape.

As the final words died on the air, Sean appeared, quietly applauding. His eyes glowed.

“I didn’t have any idea you could hear the sound that far way.” She ducked her head, strumming the guitar once.

“Did you write it?”

“Yes,” she said, blushing to the roots of her hair. “It’s a song about my first lover.”

He made a sound deep in his chest. In a flurry, he knelt at her feet, took the guitar from her arms and crushed her against him.

In the deep hours of the night, she’d awakened to find herself alone in his bed. Blinking into the darkness, she’d seen his shadow emerging from the bathroom.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he said, crawling back into bed clad in only boxer shorts. His consideration for her, along with the familiar look of him, comforted her. Tenderly, he took her into his arms. His breath trailed over her bare arm and upward to her throat. She angled her head, offering him the place she most wanted touched. Her tattoo.

“Beautiful, beautiful girl,” he murmured, hovering over her throat. Her skin prickled with gooseflesh and she moaned.

He drew back, his eyes making love to hers, tender, patient. “Evangeline, can I kiss you?” he asked a scant second before claiming her lips. His mouth was full and his jaw rough with five o’clock shadow. Their lips lingered in their own loving embrace, even as her arms locked behind his neck. His arms circled her waist, his palm inching beneath the fabric of her shirt, and probing the small of her back.

“Sean,” she whispered, “I’ve never been this close to anyone.”

He groaned. “Me neither. I’m head over heels for you, don’t you know?”

A sob rushed up her throat, and she caught his face squarely in her palms so she could stare into his eyes. “And me for you, Sean. But I’ve never willingly given my body to anyone before you.”

His eyes fluttered and his quick breath crossed her face. He swallowed audibly. “What happened?” His voice cracked with concern.

The soft yet protective expression in his eyes broke open a long-festering wound within her, and the story spilled out. How her father had chosen her for his bed. The raw disgust. How he’d lied and hurt her, and degraded her soul so much that she’d used drugs every day to erase a childhood of pain.

Confessing to Sean bound her to him and relieved the guilt she’d been feeling about Will Cochran. No internal voice could soothe her as much as Sean’s careful kisses. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her body softening at his nearness.

“Let me tuck you into bed,” he murmured against her throat.

She nodded with a shudder.