A Tempest In The Night Part 24

"Then you know I'm not kidding. I'm staying here, at least until tomorrow morning," I said then unzipped my pants to the middle of the placket.

She stood there, fixed her sweater, pushed her shoulders back, and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. Her eyes riveted to my partially unzipped pants. I was tempted to... I diverted my thoughts to her safety.

She knew I was right, and she didn't want to be alone. The 'staying away from each other' idea wasn't working.

"It's a sofa bed. It's comfy." She walked away. Her hips swinging right to left in her skirt. Her door creaked open. The sc.r.a.ping of wood against wood meant drawers opened and closed. A curse, then I heard a closet door opening. Fabric shuffled about, and then the b.a.l.l.s of her feet fell lightly on the hardwood floors. She appeared much calmer.

"I think this might fit you. You're super tall though. This is a little short."

"Thank you." I held it up. Saw the front placket. Why did I think she was untouched? She's beautiful, sweet... maybe too sweet. No one is that nice anymore, but she'd s.h.i.+elded that little girl in the station. She's the angel, and I'm the cla.s.sic troublemaker.

"Men's pajamas?"

"A leftover from my ex boyfriend."

"And you kept them?"

"It wasn't out of sentimentality. I didn't remember I had them until now." Ilida cleared her throat as she walked past me. She pulled the shades down. "I'll let you get comfortable."

She disappeared again. The swoos.h.i.+ng sound of fabric again. She's taking off her clothing. Something I should continue doing. I unb.u.t.toned my pants, let them fall the floor and pulled off my socks. Did the usual strip down.

The sound of running water got my attention. She was taking a shower. A slosh of water? She felt the temperature of it.

It was obscenely easy to read her thoughts. Ilida wants me. I want her, but I don't quite trust her yet. There was one way to get the truth out of someone. Good f.u.c.ks made loose lips. So does pain, but that's my last resort.

A Greek G.o.d was taking off his clothes in her living room.

He's probably hungry. Most men eat like there's no tomorrow. He's tall and has to eat to keep himself going. Okay, okay. I'll order Chinese. Everyone likes Chinese food.

Before she could order food she had to get out of her work clothes. She did and took a shower then donned gray, drawstring, lounge pants and a yellow T-s.h.i.+rt.

She pulled the covered elastic band off her head releasing the ponytail and combed it out. After smoothing her hair and gathering it tight, she twisted it making a tiny chignon in the back of her neck.

It took her less than fifteen minutes. She padded out of her bedroom and around the corner as if it was an ordinary night. "Are you... hungry?"

Oh Lordy, Lordy. He faced the window as he folded his striped black and gray s.h.i.+rt up. Smooth skin stretched over impossibly sculpted muscles. A stylized bat tattoo covered his left bicep. The pajama pants she'd given him hung dangerously low on his hips.

He gave her his attention. His eyebrow arched. "Not now."

"Are you sure? You should eat something. I have Chinese take-out menus, pizza? There's a Greek restaurant on Adams Street."

He held his left arm, looking vulnerable, gorgeous. The man she wanted stood in the middle of her living room half-naked. "You order something."

"You don't want Chinese? Okay, how about j.a.panese. Narabuki has good food and they deliver pretty quick. Or how about..."

"I'm not hungry for food, Illy."

She blinked trying to guess what he hinted at. Before she could step back, he was in front of her and way too close.

She froze as his nose and mouth came dangerously close to her neck, the dip of her halter tank top.

"You're s.h.i.+vering."

She couldn't talk. Her breath caught in her throat. The wetness between her legs was unbelievable. His nose stopped right where her neck tingled. He inhaled her. "What are you doing?"

"I think you know," he said smoothly, with a tinge of danger in his voice.

"I-I"

"I what?"

She couldn't think. His hands smoothed her b.u.t.t. Her pajamas were useless against the heat of his hands. She liked having her b.u.t.t rubbed.

What other fantasies did he mine from her thoughts? He lowered his head. Her left nipple, the most sensitive, he sucked through her tank top. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the sensation.

Then the impossible. His hands cupped her naked b.u.t.t. She gasped from the touch of his rough hands.

"I have ways of making you talk, Ilida."

"W-what? I..."

She felt weightless and found herself held tightly and moved to her bedroom. He dripped her on the bed unceremoniously, lifted her top and captured her nipple in is mouth. She arched her back moaning loudly.

"You like this, don't you?"

"Yes," she breathed out.

"Want more?"

"Yes!"

He sucked on her nipple, nipping it, pulling it between his teeth. While he rolled her other nipple between his nimble fingers. She grabbed anything within reach of her hands. The comforter bunched in her fists.

It was wild the way he overtook her and had her moaning on her back with abandon. He let go of her nipple, continued to roll the other between his fingers. He kissed the valley between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, licked the underswell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and kissed a trail to her belly b.u.t.ton. He licked her there. She jumped from the strange numb sensation of his tongue there.

He hooked the waistband of her pajamas, tugged it down over her hips, pulled it off her legs.

"Oh how sweet-lace panties. We won't be needing them," his voice dripped with disdain as her panties dripped with arousal. He twirled them around his finger then tossed them away like trash.

"I have ways of making you talk, Ilida," he repeated.

"I-I don't under-"

"You understand all to well. That is the problem."

He cupped her heavy, swollen b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his hands. He let go then pulled her tank over her head and threw that away as well. She didn't care. She watched his eyes. They were red then blue then black.

He bent down and what a glorious display of muscle that was. His body rippled with it. She reached out and traced the line that ran from his pectorals to below the waistband of his pajamas.

He sucked in his breath and pinned her down again. "Don't move."

She listened, watching him as he stared at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He twisted her pajama pant making a long single rope, grabbed her wrist.

"Daedalus?"

He said nothing and she couldn't break his grip. It was like iron. For the second time that night she was afraid of him and he didn't care. He wrapped it around her wrist three times, tied it, then tied the other end around one of the wooden vertical bars of her headboard.

She was naked, with her hands tied. He opened her legs lowered his head. His breath danced on her inner thighs. His fingers raked through hairy mound barely touching her c.l.i.t. His hands smoothed them making her jump.

"What is your name?"

"You know my name."

"I don't know s.h.i.+t when it comes to you." he lowered his head more. She stiffened as his breath abraded her c.l.i.toris. "What is your name?"

"Ilida Davis."

His hot tongue gave her a quick lick. She gasped.

"Where were you born?"

"Long Island, New York," she said, breathless.

He pinched her c.l.i.toris. She gasped at the sudden pain and the quivering in her body.

"Specifics, Ilida."

"Baldwin, Long Island, New York."

"Very Good. Who are you parents?"

She hesitated. As barbaric as this was, she wanted more. He was torturing her s.e.xually and she wanted... more.

"Ilida?" His finger traced the opening of her v.a.g.i.n.a. Her hips gyrated following his fingers. "I hate to wait for answers."

"Hortensia and Franklyn Davis."

Another lick and this time he sucked down running his tongue along her folds.

"Do you know Terra?"

"No."

"I almost believe you."

He sucked her c.l.i.toris making her jump. Her thighs clamped on his head. Viscously he pulled them open exposing her to the air. He flicked her c.l.i.toris again.

Her arousal coated his five o'clock shadow. He watched, then licked his over-ripe upper lip, and then stood up.

"Scarves?"

She didn't answer him. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction, even though her mind came up with an image of where they were.

He smiled as he got up and found the scarves hanging on the inside of her closet door. "Don't forget I can read your nasty thoughts."

He plucked four scarves from the closet, closed the door behind him, and then he crawled on the bed over her.

"No," she cried.

He laughed. "Token resistance turns me on," he growled, as he tied two scarves together. He grasped her ankle and tied the scarf around it then tied it around the wooden post of the footboard. He did the same with the other, then he sucked her again, hungrily, like he was starving for her juices.

His tongue wouldn't let up. It teased her, slithering over her. Her body convulsed, stiffened. He s.n.a.t.c.hed her hips, pulled her to him. He buried his face in her as she came.

Her o.r.g.a.s.m lingered-took forever to ride itself out. She lay there limp. Her body felt as if she'd run a marathon.

He pinned her with his hard gaze. "Are you telling me the truth?"

"You know I am."

He lay across the bed, his hands between her legs. He propped his head on her knee. "Telepaths can manipulate minds." He kissed her kneecap as he lazily rubbed her sensitized c.l.i.toris. "Make you see things that aren't there. Make you hear things. Are you mentally f.u.c.king with me?"

"No," she moaned.

"Would you like me to f.u.c.k you?"

"Yes," she begged.

His hand cupped her. She moved against him, wanting him. He shoved his fingers inside her. Her walls closed around him. In and out he pumped her. She moved against his fingers. Her hips rose off the bed.

"Your delicious t.i.ts are bouncing," he said, as he bent over her and seized her nipple in his mouth.

Beams of pleasure made a triangle from her breast to her v.a.g.i.n.a and back. Her left neglected nipple tingled and swelled. She was lost, not caring what he did anymore. In the morning, she'd curse herself but for now she wanted him and that's all that mattered to her.

One last o.r.g.a.s.m wrung out of her. He pulled his hand out of her, licked his fingers one by one, watching her as she watched him. Afterwards he untied one ankle.

"Don't kick me."

She didn't have the strength to do anything, but she couldn't resist baiting him. "And what If I do?"

"Then I'll have to teach you a not-so-nice lesson."

"What is your problem?"