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She panned the window around his bu**ocks to the side—and there it was. His cock, long, thick, and hard. “I can see the length of you. Antony, so beautiful.” Her mouth was dry. Oh, yeah, she was panting. He started to push inside and she gave a cry.
“Faster,” she whispered. “I’m so close and all I’ve done is look at you, but oh, God … so big, so beautiful.”
He groaned, pushing harder and faster. She kept the window positioned at his hips; he maintained just enough distance that she could watch his c**k go in and come out, over and over.
“You’re like a piston, Antony.” She couldn’t really breathe very well. He was big and he was hitting her cervix and suddenly she was just full of pleasure and screaming. The window closed but a rush of ecstasy drove through her, tightening and releasing, drawing him out.
He bowed backward and gave a shout, then another.
He spilled his seed but didn’t slow. Another orgasm caught her hard, really hard. Pleasure spiraled up through her body then down, streaking up her labia and clitoris. She rocked against him and still he kept pumping into her.
She drew back and looked at him. His eyes were rolled back in his head. “More,” he whispered. “Oh, God there’s more.” He cried out and as he ejaculated again, she was swept up into the stratosphere, pleasure like lightning moving over her entire body while she clenched and tightened around his driving cock.
Finally, her body quieted, and Antony was able to slow his movements. He lowered himself onto her, released a sigh, and relaxed. She surrounded his shoulders with her arms.
“I haven’t felt this way in a long, long time,” he said.
“How long?”
His body stiffened, then he forced himself to relax. “Not since my wife. I haven’t allowed this kind of closeness since my wife.”
She held him tighter. “And for me, not since my fiancé. He kind of broke my heart. We were planning our wedding, I’d just bought the invitations, and he announced he couldn’t marry me. He thought I was inaccessible.”
“I’d offer to break his neck but I’m too glad you’re not with him anymore.”
She laughed. Funny, that was the first time she’d ever thought of Jason without hurting. She sighed and slid her arms around him even harder. Only her fingertips met in the middle. All his powerful warrior muscles got in the way. Ah, too bad.
She giggled.
He sighed.
“You know what the bad thing is?” she asked.
He lifted to look at her. “What?”
“That your bedroom is so far away. I’d love to curl up next to you right now and take a nap.”
But a slow smile spread over his face. The vibration began.
The next minute she was lying in exactly the same position, with him still inside her, but stretched out on his bed. She’d totally forgotten he could do that.
“Hey,” she cried. “I told you to give a girl a warning.”
But he only laughed and nuzzled her neck. “Couldn’t help myself.”
She chuckled. “What a world,” she said. “Right this moment, I’m glad I’m here.”
“Me, too.”
No greater gifts exists on Second Earth,
Then that which comes from the vein.
—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth
Chapter 15
Greaves made several attempts to break back through the shield that surrounded his voyeur-link with Parisa. He sat in his Geneva office contemplating the most recent occurrence.
He’d caught a strange glimpse of naked bodies, a breast, a very large breast, the scars on Warrior Medichi’s back; then he’d felt Parisa’s mind push at him, hard. He hadn’t been prepared, otherwise he could have prevented it, but she actually pushed him out of her head and slammed impenetrable shields in place.
The level of her power had surprised him. He questioned his wisdom in letting her escape from the Burma house.
He had only himself to blame. At the time, he’d thought Julianna’s suggestion rather brilliant but now, given that the newly created ascender had more power than ever, he realized his error.
But this most recent event which involved the loss of twenty-four death vampires to the attack by the Warriors of the Blood on the Toulouse farmhouse, really elevated his blood pressure. On the other hand, because he’d had the foresight to order Rith to import a proper amount of death vampires, Rith been able to fold all the blood donors out of Toulouse and secure them in a new facility. In that sense, the smooth running of his emerging empire was kept firmly in place.
There was that silver lining again.
As for what he meant to do next, well, those decisions were presently dancing in the air. Rith’s most recent, Seer-based emails had changed his view of the future, especially where the mortal-with-wings was concerned.
The emails had been both encouraging and alarming. The most powerful Seers Fortresses had predicted a major decisive battle, which he would win. On the surface, this sounded like good news, but Greaves was not a neophyte in any sense of the word. He might have been exhilarated by the prophecy, a millennium ago. But he had lived too long as a vampire not to know how changeable the future really was. His only real difficulty right now was determining exactly what he should do with this information.
But it was the other set of emails that concerned him most, that had the power to send little shivers down his neck and spine.
Though Greaves knew, by Rith’s account, that Parisa had royle wings, he hadn’t given the circumstance much thought or even interest. The supposed magical nature of royle wings had, over the millennia, slid into the category of vampire mythology, nothing more.
Legend held that such wings had the power to create peace. According to Philippe Reynard’s definitive work on the history of ascension, the actual translation for royle from the ancient language was “benevolent wind.” Greaves could recall that as a little boy, when he’d been in the care of his mother, she’d told him stories about the first vampire, Luchianne, her royle wings, and how she had the power to create a vast wind that could calm an entire army’s fighting rage.
It was absurd, of course. Yet because he’d heard the story at his mother’s knee, somehow the fable had intense meaning for him. He was a man more of instincts than analysis, and in this situation, he felt the critical nature of all the emails that had begun flowing his direction concerning the emergence of Parisa’s royle wings, more than he had about a possible forthcoming decisive battle.
