Fairyville Page 7

  His face went hard as steel. "You stay away from other boys."

  "Make me. Prove you want me more than they do."

  His jaw ticked at her dare, and then he practically tore his zipper open, shoving her hand inside his briefs. He moaned with pleasure the instant her palm touched skin, a sound that made her go liquid. She'd never felt anything so silky, so hot and alive and hard as his bare penis. She tried to explore him, but when he rasped "tighter" in a pleading tone, she strengthened her grip.

  It took four squirming thrusts through her inexpert hold to bring him off.

  "No fair!" she remembered crying. "I didn't have a chance to pay attention!"

  She chuckled at the memory now, because he'd let her do it again—grudgingly at first, and then with all the groaning, gasping, curse-laden enthusiasm she could have wished. Going once had barely made a dent in his need. She'd felt like a goddess when he exploded that second time, an honest-to-goodness woman coming into her power.

  He'd dragged her panties down her legs not thirty seconds later, ignoring her embarrassed protests to sink sweet, tonguey kisses into her sex.

  "I can do this now," he explained, his mouth wet and hot against her. "It's safe for me to do it until I get hard again."

  He hadn't taken long to figure out what she liked, or to demonstrate just how spine-wrenchingly good an orgasm could be. He'd also known not to leave it at just one, sucking her clitoris even harder between his lips and tongue for the second peak.

  "Where did you learn that?" she remembered asking once she'd caught her breath. She should have been jealous, but was too stupefied that an eighteen-year-old boy could be so uninhibited.

  "I learned it from you," he'd said, seeming surprised that she had to ask. "Your body told me what I needed to know."

  Her amusement faded as she remembered what had happened two short weeks later. Yes, indeed, Alex had wanted her. She simply hadn't been the only one he was on fire for.

  She sighed, and as if on cue, one of Rajel's junior fairies popped into existence on the edge of the hot tub. It was a boy fairy, dressed like Robin Hood in forest green. He wasn't really a boy, of course. Fairies only looked like children. For all she knew, this one was hundreds of years old.

  "Whatcha doin'?" he asked, his little tighted legs swinging in the steam. "Trying to make Zoe stew?"

  Zoe laughed, which was probably what he'd intended. "Better be nice, or I might decide to make fairy stew instead."

  "I'm too quick," bragged the fairy, fluttering off his perch before she could pretend to nudge him. "I'm Samuel the Swift, fastest fairy in Arizona!"

  He whizzed around her to prove it, a jet trail of green fairy dust twinkling in his wake.

  "Why did the chicken walk across the road?" Samuel demanded, moving so rapidly the question sounded like it came from both sides of her head at once. "Because he was too slow to fly!"

  Zoe was about to tell him this was the lamest chicken joke she'd ever heard, when Samuel came to a hovering, midair halt. His tiny body quivered with attention as he peered down the quiet road that led to her house, his wings beating so quickly they were nearly invisible.

  Zoe saw nothing but the shapes and shadows of the night.

  "Oh, no!" he gasped, both hands pressed to his mouth in horror. "Anything but a k-k-kitten!"

  Zoe assumed this was another joke, but Samuel let out a tiny shriek, disappearing so abruptly that his fairy dust was left hanging in the air. Zoe could only wonder what had set him off.

  But the fairy's eyes and ears were sharper than hers. It wasn't long before two bright headlights appeared over the gentle rise of her street. The distinctive throaty purr of the engine told her whose car it was.

  The arrival of Magnus's red 4Runner felt like a sorrier joke than the chicken one. Her manager would drop by tonight while she still pulsed with thoughts of all she'd never gotten to do with Alex, while she was—conveniently enough—undressed for a seduction she hadn't yet decided she should attempt.

  What was it the women of Fairyville said? Better to have loved and lost Magnus than to have never had him in your bed.

  She scowled to herself as Magnus parked his vehicle in her driveway. Magnus used it for his weekend adventures—white river rafting on the Colorado, hang gliding in the Grand Canyon—trips he took alone and came back glowing from. Zoe was no daredevil, but she wouldn't have minded camping out with him if he'd asked. He hadn't, though, and now the car's door opened and shut. She heard him whistling a passage from The Magic Flute. Magnus loved music almost as much as he enjoyed exploring Mother Nature's more dangerous corners. He was a man who grabbed life with both hands, and his incessant happiness was an undeniable aphrodisiac. Against her will, Zoe's body tightened on itself.

  He must have heard the bubble of the hot tub, because he didn't try her front door, but came around the walk to her deck in long, sure strides.

  Every footfall made her sex tense more.

  "It's an Irishman bearing gifts," he called, holding up a bottle and two glasses in his right hand. His left was cradling something dark against his chest.

  Whatever Zoe was going to decide, she knew she'd better do it soon. His eyes went a little wider, his smile and his footstep faltering when he noticed her bare shoulders. Tonight, there were no bathing suits in this tub.

  "Oh," he said, suddenly sounding dazed. "Maybe I should have called."

  An extra flush of color rose in his cheeks, making his already sensual face look as if he'd just rolled out of bed. He'd stopped at the edge of her cedar deck, and he was staring at the place where her breasts would be beneath the water. When his tongue came out to wet the inner curve of his upper lip, Zoe's inner rebel gave her a shove.

  So what if Magnus thought she wouldn't be any different from his other partners? The least she could do was show him what he'd be missing. As to that, the least she could do was show herself.

  If he was going to grab life with both hands, he might as well be grabbing her.

  "Is that chilled?" she asked, nodding at the bottle.

  "What?" He dragged his eyes to her face.

  "The wine. Is it chilled?"

  "Oh." He licked his upper lip again. "Yes. It's your favorite Chardonnay. The one you order sometimes at lunch." He stepped onto the wooden platform, the movement cautious. "I… brought some company, in case you're not in the mood for mine."

  He held up the object he'd been cuddling in his second arm. It wriggled and let out a mew. It was exactly what Samuel had predicted: a yellow-eyed, black-furred kitten with white feet. It's tiny pointed tail, also tipped in white, stuck straight down as it dangled from Magnus's large, tanned hand—utter cuteness held by a big, strong man.

  "Aww," Zoe said, helpless to keep the croon inside. "How did you know I've been wanting a cat?"

  "Lucky guess." He cleared his throat. "I meant it as a peace offering."

  Zoe smiled in spite of herself. "How could you need one? I don't think any woman could stay mad at you. There's a box near the sliding doors that ought to hold him. Set him in it and hand me my robe. I want to say hello without parboiling him."

  "Right," said Magnus, fumbling slightly with the wine glasses. "I'll just set all of this down."

  His nervousness decided her. Magnus was rarely nervous, and never because of a woman. She didn't give him a chance to hold up her robe or to avert his eyes the way a friend might do. No, she stepped out of the water in all her glory, and let the object of her affections get a good eyeful.

  Magnus knew he should look away, and Magnus's aching cock knew it even better. He'd turned aside to set down the wine and the kitten, and when he'd turned back she was simply there.

  His prick had instantly punched against his jeans, hard as iron in a single breath.

  Zoe was a nymph in her nakedness, streaming wet and shining in the soft porch light. She'd twisted her curls into a single cable and pinned them atop her head, leaving every inch of her body bare. Her legs were long and perfectly muscled, her hips almo
st boyish in their leanness. His mouth went desert dry at her breasts. They were round and high—silky, curving handfuls whose swollen nipples begged to be rolled against his tongue and sucked like candy. Their centers stiffened as he stared, the relaxation they'd undergone in the hot tub reversing now.

  "Zoe," he said hoarsely, his pulse jumping in his throat.

  "Magnus," she answered and skimmed a sparkle of water droplets from her waist. Her belly was a gentle curve between her hipbones, which in their turn framed an inky triangle of curls. Her pubic hair was so black her skin glowed next to it.

  One shapely leg swung forward and took a step toward him.

  Magnus was certain she wasn't far enough away for that to be safe.

  "Please," he said with a hint of panic.

  "Please what?" she teased as she stalked closer.

  She wasn't a nymph then, she was a siren, full of confidence and devilry. Magnus had never seen her like this, and he wasn't prepared for it. She was just so… naked. His eyes slid down her endless legs again. Her cherry red toenails stopped an inch away from his shoes. Heat crashed across his skin in great humid waves. When she put both damp hands on his shoulders, forcing his gaze to hers, his knees threatened to give out. She seemed to look straight into his soul, her smile a softness in her eyes.

  "Come on, Magnus. Don't you get tired of sleeping with women you barely know? Wouldn't you like to try it with a friend?"

  "Oh, God," was all he could say, trapped by her gentle question. She had no idea how much he wanted what she was offering, or how dearly he'd pay if he accepted. Her hands slid down his chest and up again. He was wearing a lightweight Western shirt, and the touch was more than he could stand. His cock throbbed behind his zipper like a marching band.

  "I know I get tired of watching you sleep with everyone but me," she continued in that silky tone. "Especially since I suspect you really are as good as they say." She looked down between them, to the ridge of flesh that was shoving thickly out from his groin. "I liked touching you this morning, even though I know it was rude. I liked kissing you, too. It's been so long since anybody kissed me, I forgot how nice it can be."

  "I want to," he gasped out, his hands gripping hers to stop them from drifting into the danger zone beneath his waist. "I want to kiss you and kiss you until you forget what other men taste like."

  Her eyes were dark as they locked on his, a stormy gray he wanted to drown in. She went on tiptoe, her pointed nipples just barely grazing his shirt. The pulsing warmth of her body almost made him cry.

  "It's been two years since I had a date," she whispered. "Don't you think it's cruel to kiss me and leave it there?"

  Magnus's lungs forgot how to work. Two years was how long she'd known him. Two years and twenty days. She'd been saving herself for him even if she didn't recognize she was doing it.

  He couldn't just stand there in the face of that. Urges too basic to be denied had him lifting her off her feet and hugging that slender, curving body against his own. The sexy sound she made when his mouth met hers was enough to call a groan from him. He wanted her so badly he could barely think. He reached behind him for the sliding door, yanking it open and carrying her backward into her house.

  Magnus's magical abilities might have been dulled by coming to this realm, but he was still stronger than most humans. Zoe weighed next to nothing in his tightened arms, a sleek and sexy nymph who felt like she would break at the first good thrust.

  Or maybe not. She wasn't making it easy for him to remember what lay at stake. Her thighs came around his waist and squeezed, stronger than he expected, putting her pussy not quite where he wanted it but damn close. He nearly tripped over a sofa, then had to catch himself on its back.

  She was tugging up his shirt even as she kissed him, her hands slipping greedily beneath its front to reach skin. When the heel of her palm rubbed a circle around his nipple, it felt so good he nearly bit her tongue.

  Humans released oxytocin when they touched each other, but the fairy version of the pleasure hormone was many times stronger. Magnus felt it tingling through him and knew he really ought to end this now.

  "Sorry," he mumbled, promptly kissing her even deeper. He couldn't stop himself. He'd been wanting her too long, and this morning's taste had only whet his appetite. One hand slid brainlessly down her naked spine, pausing when it reached her sweet, round bottom. That was too good not to admire all over.

  "Oh, God," he moaned, loving the way her muscles gave beneath the pressure. "I could fuck you every day for two months straight."

  "Do it," she said, pressing a string of kisses along his jaw. "Do it, Magnus. Lock the door and keep me under you."

  He growled at the images she was raising, feeling her wetness against the muscles of his belly where she'd rucked up his shirt. She was flowing with cream, the musky scent tightening his cock to the point of pain. The arousal had to have come on her quickly, only since she'd stepped from the tub, for that would have washed all the signs away. Knowing he had to feel her or go insane, he slid two fingers into her from behind. He'd thought maybe only one would go in, but the husky cry that tore from her throat thrilled everything male in him.

  She was ready. She was twitching and creaming and clutching at his penetration like she couldn't pull it deep enough. Her fluids spilled down him hot as fire. When he began to work his fingers inside her, pressing them outward just a little to test her size, her head fell back to bare her throat.

  She said his name like she was singing it. "Magnus. Oh, Magnus, I want that to be you. I want your cock inside me. I want to feel you come."

  She writhed on his hand, stealing what little sense he had left. He wanted to shift her down and impale her, to feel those urgent motions against his cock. All his fairy instincts screamed at him to do it. He was born to revel in the sexual act, was meant to seek release so much more often than he'd been doing. What he felt about her just intensified the need.

  Groaning at the torture she was inspiring, he bent his head to nip her shoulder. He knew she was close to coming, knew, too, that bringing her to pleasure quickly was the only tiling that might save him.

  If he took her the way he wanted, heart and body, he'd have to give both back when the moon was full; have to return the sweetest, dearest prize he'd ever won.

  He wasn't sure either of them would recover if he did that.

  "Omigod!" she cried, stiffening without warning. "The cat! We left my kitten outside!"

  He panted like one of Tryon's flying horses as she wriggled out of his hold. It took a couple of tries before he could form words.

  "I'm not doing this right if you can think of that."

  "You were doing it perfectly," she assured him, patting his arm a second before she tugged it excitedly. "Oh, Magnus, look! The fairies have come back."

  They had come back. Magnus could see them clearly as they both peeped through the sliding doors, though Zoe probably didn't know that. A crowd of at least a dozen were clustered around the box that held the kittne, darting back and giggling when it reached for them with its paw. They must have been making sure it wouldn't try to leap out.

  "Can you see them?" she whispered. Her fingers curled into his as naturally as if they'd been holding hands for years, instead of this being the first time. "They might look like fireflies to you, but in different colors."

  "I see them," he said.

  His voice was rough. Zoe lifted his knuckles for an impulsive kiss, her hand still warm with sexual excitement. "That was so clever of you to bring him! Kittens are like catnip to fairies. I bet they couldn't stay away when they saw."

  He couldn't utter a word. Her pleasure in his pleasure—without ever guessing how much it meant to him—closed his throat.

  For millennia, the little fey had served his world's ruling families—happily, so they thought. It was their nature to delight in helping others' dreams come true. They had not, however, delighted in doing it as slaves, or at his mother's whim. One by one they'd slipped through th
e cracks between the worlds, hitchhiking on their larger cousins' trips back and forth. The last of his tiny kindred had disappeared when he was a boy. Since that time, he hadn't seen a single one until tonight.

  When Zoe's gaze found his, alight with her happiness over this privilege she was sharing, he couldn't have looked away to save a million magical visas.

  Her fingers tightened meaningfully on his. "The kitten seems to be fine. Lots o' babysitters. Maybe we could continue where we left off?"

  A bashfulness she hadn't shown a scrap of when she climbed naked from that tub had crept into her voice. Blood surged harder through his groin. He knew no male in Fairy could have resisted her blend of shyness and availability. Everything in his highly sexual nature told him to claim her, hard and fast, for himself alone. He knew he needed to step back now, while his sanity was still intact. Except, if he left her when she sounded this insecure, he doubted she'd forgive him a second time.

  Feeling more solemn than he ever had in his life, he cupped her lovely face between his hands.

  "I think we should slow down, sweetheart. Maybe not go 'all the way,' as the kids put it. What you're offering me is a precious gift. I want to take my time unwrapping it."

  Zoe pulled his clasp away from her.

  "Oh, boy." Her voice was breathless… and not in a good way. "This is sounding sickeningly familiar."

  "Zoe—"

  "No." She stepped back and shook her head as he reached for her. "Far be it from me to rush any man."

  He didn't understand her reaction, but knew it couldn't bode well for him. He scrambled in his head for something to say that would make it better, but only got as far as drawing breath when her kitchen phone began ringing.

  "Saved by the bell," she said bitterly.

  He had the stomach-dropping sensation that she believed the bell was saving him.

  * * *

  Chapter Five

  Bryan had spent many evenings in Phoenix in overloud country-western bars, waiting for some cowboy to give him The Eye. Despite these numerous assaults on his eardrums, his hearing was fine. He caught more of Alex's conversation with his mother than he suspected Alex intended. Why Alex had been rattled by the information, Bryan didn't want to speculate.