Mona Lisa Blossoming m-2 Page 17

  His long, gold-tipped lashes fluttered once, twice, and then opened. Confusion, comprehension drifted in and out of those chocolate brown eyes.

  "Mona Lisa," he murmured and reached for me, releasing Gryphon's arm.

  As if the strings that had been holding him up had suddenly been cut, Gryphon toppled soundlessly over, his body wedged back in the crack of the seat, curled around the Demon Prince's head, his heart stuttering, his breath shallow, his body still within biting range.

  But it was not Gryphon the Demon Prince reached for. Halcyon wrapped those golden arms around me—still so strong even when he was weak—and hauled me up so that I was half draped over him, so that my breasts were crushed against his chest, so that blood from his open chest wounds wet my shirt, seeping through the fabric to dampen my skin like a liquid caress. With a sigh, a soundless murmur, Halcyon sank his long, sharp fangs gently into my neck.

  And with that one bite, he took me over completely.

  I was floating in a blue, blue sea. I was naked, and I was with my lover. Halcyon. His golden skin glowed in the waters, and his eyes shone like brilliant dark stars, his need, his want glinting hard like black diamonds in their depths. And I wanted him. Oh, how I wanted him.

  He was as wonderfully free as I, skin whole, sleekly muscled, no cloth marring the natural grace and beauty of his body, his quiet strength, his rising passion. The ocean buoyed us in her comforting arms, safe. It was like a primordial time, when nothing else existed but the first man made, the first woman created from his bone. No need to breathe. Just feel. The touch of my lover's hand gentle upon the back of my neck as he drew me into his embrace. The brush of his soft, red lips against mine, tasting even better than the nectar of life. He let me sip from his cherry sweetness, drink down joy, swallow the seeds of passion. And as they slid down into my belly, I suddenly burned with need. Such need to feel that exquisite body pressed tight against me, in me. To feel that dark hard length of risen passion nuzzle between my thighs and bury deep inside me.

  My bare breasts flattened against him, my nipples hard, stabbing into his chest, the twin peaks kissing his own flat brown areolas, their pointy aggression bringing a growl to his throat, turning sweet tenderness into something rougher, darker, more forceful, aggressive. Like stirring a hidden beast. His arms tightened around me, and with a shudder that racked that slender body, his arousal nudged against my notch, a lovely fit but not quite perfect yet. I swayed against him, swirling my hips enticingly, coating him with my honeyed juice, riding, sliding against that lovely jutting length. Sweet, but not enough.

  "Come into me," I whispered.

  "Soon," he promised and took my mouth with lips so luscious, so red, so smooth that they tasted even better than Eve's first apple, bursting with the bittersweet taste of something dark and tantalizing. A luring promise of more… more. And I was so hungry.

  He delved into my mouth with an exploring tongue, sliding in like a sinuous snake, sweeping over my teeth, caressing the inner wetness of my mouth, slipping back out to lap and tease and nibble my full lower lip, catching it between his teeth and pulling it out, taut. A gentle press, a promise of teeth. The pull of pressure, the release. Sliding back in, sweeping his tongue against mine, tangling them together, stroke against stroke, twining, rubbing, and then sliding in that most intimate dance of push and retreat, promising a deeper joining yet to come.

  My hands flew over him, touching, caressing, stroking that lovely smooth flesh. Feeling the resilient texture of soft skin, hard muscles, taut tendons. Seeing the beautiful contrast of white skin against dark, like the warm sun against the cool moon. His shoulders were broad ledges to explore. His back, hills to conquer, plains to venture over. His luscious bottom, small tight mounds of muscle to squeeze and pull against me. I slid my hands lower, trailing down the mysterious crack between his bottom cheeks, making him mutter, making him squirm, until I found him hanging low and vulnerable. I squeezed his balls gently, appreciating their thick pouchy outer surface, their softer, looser inner roll. Their tightening, tensing, drawing up. So sweetly responsive, so wonderfully tight.

  Halcyon gazed down into my laughing eyes and growled. His red, wicked mouth swooped down to plunder my vulnerable flesh and take their revenge. My nipple was engulfed in the dark wet cavern of his mouth and proved as equally responsive as his balls. They tightened, but instead of drawing up and inward, they speared out. He sucked and pulled and swirled a naughty tongue, tasting, laving me. A gentle swish, a rough pull, making me cry out. My other nipple was pulled and squeezed with agile fingers in rhythm to his sucking mouth. The twin assaults made me widen my legs and wrap them around his waist, squeezing down on his buttocks, pulling him tightly, grindingly against me. He swiveled against me in a graceful, wicked dance, rubbing his hardness against my softness. Then his hands caught my hips, angled them up so that my little pearl of hardness was caught against the base of his poling length and ground against it again and again as his hips swiveled and danced, a delicious bump and retreat.

  And then all I felt was a hard, hard pressing as he bit down on my nipple, no longer gentle, squeezing my other nipple with his fingers to the point of pain, to the point of pleasure. And I exploded outward, imploded inward. Shot into hard, shuddering ecstasy that shook my frame, within and without. His mouth covered me, swallowing down my cries, stealing my breath, emptying me until I was nothing, and then breathing life back into me, exhaling so that his air filled my lungs, so that his breath sustained me, brought me back. And as I revived, stirred, he slipped sweetly into me, a quiet, peaceful joining.

  A moment of stillness. A moment to savor the fullness, the delicious stretching invasion. Then another breath into me, a gentle push into me, a fluid pulling back out. And all I could do was float in his arms, totally relaxed, utterly drained in the sated aftermath, wonderfully limp, held secure by him. All his. Unable to do anything but take whatever he wished to give.

  My golden prince moved to the gentle rhythmic sway of the ocean. Ebbing, rising. Gentle, oh, so gentle movement. As natural as breathing, as necessary as life, as steady as the beating of one's own heart. He flowed in and out of me for a languid, unceasing time, kissing me, drinking from my mouth until my senses roused once more, lured by the gentle dance of his hips, his body brushing mine, inside mine. A stroking of hard flesh against soft. A giving, a taking, a receiving. An endless cycle of life.

  He pulled back, stilled his motion, and looked down upon me, his eyes so hot, so glittery, so bright. So urgent with need, want, held back passion. And it was as if his eyes, his needs, sparked my own fervor so that the gentle passive pleasure was suddenly no longer enough. Not nearly enough. And I clenched around him hard and tight, making him cry out my name, "Mona Lisa!"

  A stroke of my hand and I reversed Halcyon in the water, laying him flat, the water a firm cushion beneath him. I reared up and then back down, taking him.

  "Halcyon," I sighed as he filled me. "You have the most beautiful eyes, like chocolate. I love chocolate."

  I licked my lips, then leaned down and licked his. "You taste like it, too," I crooned with lust, with greed, and delved into the dark bitter sweetness of him, lapping him up with my tongue as I rose and fell upon him, stroking him as he stroked within me.

  "Don't hold back," I murmured, "don't hold back." And it was as if my urgent whisper released him from some invisible bond of restraint.

  "Hellcat," he gasped. His hands clamped down hard upon my hips and he plunged within me, bucking beneath me like a wild bronco released from its stall, driving the very breath from me. God, he was strong.

  He rolled up, twisting, and slammed me back against an immovable wall of water, pinning me there as he pulled back and surged into me again and again and then again, driving me up that liquid wall with each forceful, thrusting drive of his hips. His hands were on me, squeezing my breasts, thumbing my nipples. His mental constraint crashed and loosened, flooding me with a spill of sensation. I felt a tingling brush over my lips
though he touched me there with nothing but his burning gaze. A stroking down my legs, a twining around my calves, a touch upon the balls of my feet. A greedy, total body caress down my arms, a meshing of my fingers with invisible ones to anchor me against that soft, firm liquid wall. Dark, stinging nips down my back, an edge of teeth against my round bottom. An arrowing, singing presence delving between my legs, tunneling deep to where we were joined, like invisible fingers thrusting alongside his heavy staff, all thrusting into me, and then going even deeper, burrowing deep, deep like a seed of pleasure, stretching my womb like a growing baby as he stretched and filled my tunnel, shooting sparks of growing sensation with each hard, thrusting rub, each sliding glide. Swivel, push. A different angle. An even deeper joining. Jolting penetration within me, shocking me with sizzling strength, igniting my senses as I felt him all around me, in me, touching every part of me. And most sharply of all, I felt that tingling pressure-pleasure stretching inside my womb, maturing, growing. When it ripened almost to the point of bursting, Halcyon lowered his mouth to my throat. I felt his hot breath against me, felt his teeth grow longer, sharper. Felt the tender, tantalizing brush of those teeth against my soft white skin and arched my neck farther, invitingly, wanting him, waiting for him to sink his teeth into me, whimpering with my need for him to join us even more in that one small way.

  One long moment of stillness. And then he pierced me with his fangs. Deep down he sank into my flesh with his teeth. Deep down he sank into me with his long hot length, driving all the way home, tapping my womb, drinking my rich blood, tasting me with his mouth, with his male organ, with his invisible senses. Drinking me up, drinking me down, and delivering me into blinding rapture, into knowing bliss. Into a shaking, shuddering, jerking convulsion of sharp, painful pleasure.

  My porous skin, my spasming sheath, my clenching womb—all drank him greedily down, and with a small cry he shot his sweet release into me.

  My body was still quivering when I opened my eyes. My neck stung and I felt a thick droplet of blood trickle down to cradle low in the hollow of my throat. My breasts tingled and I felt soreness and wetness between my legs. But it wasn't the cool, cuddling ocean I saw. I was in the middle row of the Suburban, sitting on the floor, woozy and light-headed. I looked up into the startling awareness of Halcyon's chocolate brown eyes. He was still lying prone on the seat. Behind him, laid out in the opposite direction was Gryphon, his head resting on Halcyon's shoulder. Both of them stared at me, both sets of eyes punched black, pupils wide.

  I transferred my gaze back to Halcyon. "Are you feeling better?"

  "Oh, yes." His dark, richly satisfied voice whispered over me like a tactile caress, washing more tremors through me, setting off small, quaking explosions within me. Making me close my eyes until they passed like a hot, rippling rush, and released my body once more back into my control. My clothes were still on, but the wetness sopping my pants seemed more excessive than just my arousal alone could account for.

  "Was that… real?" I asked.

  "As real as you wish it to be."

  I licked my lips. "You took me over."

  "Not entirely. I was too weak for compulsion. I did not shade your desire. Your emotions were your own."

  Great. I didn't even have "you made me do it" to fall back upon. Just my own horny little self.

  I stared into Gryphon's pleasure punched eyes and wondered how much he had sensed or shared, pressed as he'd been against Halcyon. Then decided I might be better off not knowing.

  Halcyon was better but still not well. His color more natural, his skin more taut, no longer swollen. The bruises on his wrist had disappeared. The deep wounds on his chest no longer gaped open like dead flesh, but had drawn together. Still, they remained deep, furrowing gashes, far from healed, and the bite mark on his neck was still there, Mona Louisa's violating brand.

  "Do you need more blood?" My voice sounded hoarse, weaker than what I would have liked. I didn't know whether it was from the pleasure I had received—real or imagined—or the donation of my blood. Probably both.

  "No," Halcyon replied. "More blood will not aid me further. Nothing will, other than returning home quickly."

  "What's the quickest route home?" I asked.

  "New Orleans."

  Of course. "Aquila?"

  "On my way," Aquila replied, and floored the gas pedal. The car shot into the night.

  Chapter Fourteen

  An hour later we drove past empty high-rises, steel skyscrapers and glittering hotels, passing through the Central Business District of New Orleans. It was my first glimpse of the infamous Crescent City and I looked eagerly out the window. Images of lurching vampires—whatever they may be—crossed my mind, and the screeching of darting bats was nearly audible in my ears. The seat of Mardi Gras. I could almost see the throngs jumping to catch the glittering throws they tossed from passing floats. This birthplace of jazz. I could almost hear the trumpets blaring away, the whispers of the night. But such was just illusion conjured up by the books I'd read and the movies I'd seen. Reality was reality. The tall buildings here looked no different than what I'd seen in New York City, and the sidewalks were as plain as those in the Big Apple. Some of my disappointment must have shown on my face.

  "The French Quarter is much lovelier," Aquila murmured, gazing at me through the rearview mirror.

  I certainly hoped so, but then again, sightseeing wasn't what we were about tonight.

  We stopped beside a dark and desolate alley in the Warehouse District. It was quiet here, deserted until the Earth spun ponderously around and faced the sun once more. Then it would fill and teem again with life as the business bustle of daytime returned. But for now, in the dark quiet of night, not a soul was present. Life forms could be felt, heard, a short radius away, scattered in dumpings here and there where they slept, ate, lived.

  Farther north, almost an immense mass of gathered humanity swelled, pulsing with the beats of thousands upon thousands of countless bodies. The French Quarter. But here in the deserted Business District, only the stillness of silence, the death of night, greeted us. The alley was bland, unremarkable, no different from thousands of other alleys dotting the city until with a flicker of will, a flexing of power, Halcyon called forth the portal. It shimmered then, brought to life, a glittering, white misty wall.

  Making the portal appear seemed to use up whatever strength Halcyon had garnered from the generous donations of our blood. He would have collapsed had I not caught him. To my thankful surprise, I was stronger than I felt. My jellied knees managed to hold up both of us.

  "You can't go back by yourself like this," I said.

  Gryphon leaned weakly against the wall, letting it prop him up. "No," he said, vehemently shaking his head.

  "No, what?" Amber asked. The green Suburban had followed us down into the city and the other men gathered about us now. Although gathered was too kind a word. Miguel and Gerald hovered back near the mouth of the alley. Even my men kept a certain distance, as if fearful of being drawn into the portal, fearful of being sucked accidentally down to Hell. They were wise to be fearful. If they were able to survive the trip down, they were dead upon arrival, nothing but dust upon hitting the other realm's hot atmosphere. Monère and humans did not do well down in Hell; one unable to withstand the heat, the other too fragile to survive the trip. I, however, seemed to be the perfect sturdy mix of the two. Hell seemed to like me. I wasn't exactly sure what that said about me, but at least it didn't kill me. The trip, that is. And let me tell you, it is not a fun trip. Even though you don't die, it feels as if you will. After awhile, you wish you had.

  Nope, not fun at all. And not something I could believe I was going to willingly repeat. But goddamn it to Hell and back—which was going to be my goal here—Halcyon wasn't even able to stand on his own two feet.

  "No, what?" Amber asked again. He and Halcyon stood the closest—stalwart, protective forces behind me.

  "I'm going with Halcyon," I said.

  A
dangerous, frightening look came over Amber's craggy face. "No." In this, he and Halcyon were united. They stood there together looking at me with fierce, set faces as if they had a say in the matter, and I was both pleased and annoyed that they did so. Pleased because they were learning that they mattered enough to me that I would listen to them if I could. Annoyed because in this case, I couldn't.

  "The damn portal isn't like an elevator you can just stick Halcyon in and trust it to bring him directly to his door. He has to make his way home, and there are a lot of dangerous things down there." Like other demon dead. "Just look at Halcyon," I said.

  "We are looking," Amber said in a low, unhappy rumble, and he wasn't just looking at Halcyon. He was looking at me supporting Halcyon.

  Which made me want to take back my last words. Not the most brilliant suggestion of the moment. Halcyon and I no doubt looked like we'd both topple over if anyone breathed too hard on us.

  I hastened on. "Home—or rather Hell—is not a safe place. High Prince of Hell or not, Halcyon will be almost helpless once he arrives. And that is not a place you want to be helpless in, not if you want to continue existing." If not exactly living.

  "Your men are right," Halcyon said quietly. "I shall be unable to protect you in Hell."

  "Halcyon," I said almost gently. "It is you I wish to protect."

  "And how do you expect to do that in your condition?" Dontaine asked, stepping forward. With his chest bare, his feet naked, his pants torn rags, he looked the primitive warrior that he was. My warrior now, I thought with satisfaction. Not hers.

  My eyes softened as I looked at him. "You, too, Dontaine?"

  "Milady, I did not save you to watch you kill yourself now. No one who has gone down to the other realm has ever returned."

  "Except me."

  Dontaine's eyes widened with surprise.

  "I'm the only one here who can do it because I did it before. It has to be me."

  "Prince Halcyon," Chami asked. Blood splatter covered the chameleon. None of it, however, was his. "When you arrive, will your friends help you?"