Mona Lisa Blossoming m-2 Page 8

  "Yes, killing is what I do best," Chami confirmed quietly, his lean face inscrutable. Chameleon. He was still: Not the way humans are still, but completely immobile in the way reptiles are. Utterly. So that you aren't sure for a moment if they are real, living and breathing, or just a stuffed replica.

  "I used to hate doing that," he said, speaking softly, without passion, without inflection. "Ending someone's life without any warning, without any chance. Whether they deserved to die or not. Very uneven odds with my ability to remain unseen. Few detected me. Sliding my knife into them was so easy that it felt like I was cheating. I used to hate it when other Queens prized me for that talent, and expected me to serve them in that manner." He gave a humorless laugh. "I didn't know how I had grown to depend upon that skill until I failed you. Twice now."

  "Are we back to Kadeen again?" Kadeen had been the demon dead who had snatched me. "You and Amber almost died trying to stop him. You did not fail me. If anyone failed, it was me. I failed to protect you."

  "It is not a Queen's duty—"

  "It's a Queen's duty to care for her men."

  "Not by physically fighting."

  "Why not?"

  "That is not what we expect of our Queens," Chami said gently.

  "Chami," I said, equally gently, "in case you haven't noticed, I'm not like other Queens."

  He laughed. A real laugh this time. "I could not fail to notice that."

  I smiled, feeling a small glow of pleasure. Each rare laugh from my men felt like winning a prize. "You served me well just now, being there in case I needed you. But not being in the way. You serve me well by being a mentor to the younger ones, by teaching them how to use a dagger, how to protect themselves. By distracting them from me when you see that I'm uncomfortable. By being thoughtful." I cupped his lean cheek tenderly. "You don't have to kill anyone to serve me, Chami. You can serve me best by looking after my brother, keeping him safe."

  His hand came up to cover mine, press it against his face. "That I can vow to do with all my heart. Thaddeus is very special to us all."

  "Thank you. You have a wonderful way with the kids, you know. They look up to you." Only because my hand was against his skin did I feel the slight warmth. I lowered my hand to see if what I suspected was true.

  "Chami, are you blushing?"

  He didn't seem to know what to say. I took pity on the poor fellow. "Now, if you really, really want to serve me, you can help me find my way to that damn staircase so I can climb up to my room and crawl into bed."

  "As my lady wishes."

  We found the staircase and he headed off to his room while I headed in the opposite direction toward mine. But when I rounded the corridor, I knew that sweet blissful sleep was still a ways off. Gryphon sat in front of my door. Obviously waiting for me. Obviously wanting to talk to me.

  "May I speak with you?" he asked.

  Sometimes I hate being right.

  My footsteps grew even heavier. Wanting to talk to your lover first, without wanting to jump her bones, was never a good sign. My heart pounded with dread, with what I feared most. He was going to leave me.

  Gryphon rose to his feet as I nodded. Without a word, I opened my door, walked in, and felt him enter behind me, a soft presence. A sitting room next to one's bedroom was a good idea, actually. I sat on the plush sofa. Gryphon took a seat across from me, not next to me. Another bad, bad sign.

  Unconsciously, I rubbed my chest, trying to ease the achy feeling there beneath my breastbone as I looked at Gryphon. My first love. He was as beautiful to me now as when I had first seen him—the ebony black fall of his hair like a shiny cascade of darkness about him. The pearl white glow of his skin like flawless porcelain. His hauntingly lovely eyes, crystal blue and clear. That beautiful full lush mouth, red like a river of passion, as tempting as Eve's apple. The first time we'd met, the moment my eyes had fallen upon him, something elemental inside of me had recognized him—mate—and had reached out to him.

  "You no longer desire me," Gryphon said, breaking the silence.

  I let my hand drop from my chest when I became aware that I was rubbing it. "No, I desire you still. I will always desire you."

  His lovely eyes were sad, so sad. A liquid pool of unhappiness. "You say that and yet you sit there, far apart from me. You cannot bear to touch me after I told you what I had been."

  I was suddenly confused. He'd been the one to sit apart from me. Hadn't he? "What are you talking about?"

  "You are angry with me. Disgusted with me tonight, after I told you how others had used me."

  "I was angry with you because you put my hand on another man's groin."

  He shook his head, eyes downcast. "You say that is the reason, but that is not the true reason." And incredibly, he seemed to believe that.

  "Gryphon, what you did before, what others did to you, does not matter to me. It's you, us, now that matters. I'm angry with you because you threw me at another man. Because you left a poor boy alone, shackled like an animal, when you could have freed him much sooner."

  "I did not know what to do with the boy. And when you ran from me and from Dontaine…" He looked up and something like hope glimmered in his eyes. "Is it really as you say?"

  "Having my lover wanting me to sleep with another man is not a small thing to me, Gryphon."

  "We are Monère, Mona Lisa. We are not human."

  "You keep saying that. But I am part human."

  "If I could acquire gifts as easily as you, I would sleep with Dontaine myself in the hopes of passing it to you," he said quietly. And, dear Mother of God, he really meant it.

  "But other Queens," he continued, "other men do not gain gifts and powers as you seem to. Sandoor and his band of rogues. They had a Queen who they bedded for over ten years, and they did not gain much power from the matings or the Baskings. But one time with you—" He turned his palms up in a graceful gesture. " — and Amber and I can walk in the sun. You can see with my falcon's clarity of vision, and have gained some of Amber's great strength."

  "Terrific. So I'm even more of a freak than I thought, like a sexual vampire who sucks up gifts instead of blood."

  "You give generously as well as acquire."

  I smiled bitterly. "Puts a whole new spin on being a generous and giving lover."

  Gryphon ignored my sarcasm. "I believe what you say is true. You give more when you make love."

  "And maybe I do that because I don't sleep with every man that walks by me, even those thrown at me," I said gently.

  That quieted Gryphon for a moment. Gave him something to ponder. "Perhaps that is the case," he said finally.

  "I only want you and Amber."

  He looked at me with solemn eyes. "Amber I can see why. But me—"

  "How can you doubt that when every woman who looks at you desires you?"

  His eyes turned hard and scornful. "They desire only my body, my flesh."

  "I'm guilty as well. I desire your body. You have a beautiful body," I said softly.

  His eyes grew heavy-lidded. One look from those slumberous eyes and I suddenly burned.

  "You are different," Gryphon said, his voice a low husky timbre that sent a silvery shiver like an invisible hand sweeping down my spine. "You desire not only my body but my heart. My very soul."

  "Do I have your heart?" I asked.

  "It beats only for you."

  "Oh, Gryphon." I reached for him and was suddenly in his arms, held tight. "I thought you were leaving me," I whispered against his neck.

  "I thought you wished me gone."

  "Never. No matter how mad you make me. Don't leave me. Don't ever leave me again."

  "No," he promised, carrying me into the bedroom, his heart beating strong against me. "No, I won't."

  He set me down beside the bed and swiftly removed my clothes. And as he undressed me, the anger and the fear suddenly changed into something else. Into something hot and possessive and tender. I brushed my fingers across the back of his nape and felt the soft fe
athery down hidden there like a secret pleasure. The scent of him, that faint fresh clean scent that was just him filled my lungs. Gryphon.

  I'd be able to pick him out from a hundred other men blindfolded just from that unique fragrance. He smelled like the wind, like the night, like soft fluffy feathers and gentle kisses, sweet passion.

  Other women had wanted him, had possessed him, had used him. But now he was mine and I wanted to wash away their old scents, rub off their long faded touch, their greedy, grasping imprints. Smudged fingerprints on the window of his soul.

  He'd pleased so many. But had they pleased him? Had they tried to find his pleasure, his desire?

  I pushed away from Gryphon. "Let me," I said, my voice a low soft whisper as he reached for me. "No, don't touch me." I captured his eyes, captured his hands, and lowered them down to his side. "Let me please you."

  He looked into the promise of my eyes and shivered.

  "Let me undress you," I breathed.

  Both of us watched as I lifted one hand and brought it to the first button on his shirt. One infinitesimal moment stretched long before I finally touched it, and his breath caught as if I had touched other things. Leisurely I circled one finger around the smooth rim of that button. His muscles tightened. I looked up into his eyes and smiled. Unhurriedly, I pushed the button through the hole, skimmed my finger lightly down to the next hole. Slowly, I unveiled him, a beautiful hidden masterpiece, unwrapping him bit by bit like the sweet present he was. He was a breathtaking symmetry of flowing grace, of strength and power, a gentle river of muscles and tendons, bone and flesh, perfect in its creation. A worthy, worthy gift.

  His shirt fell to the floor and I watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest with complete absorption, full appreciation. He was like God's first creation. Broad graceful shoulders, the gentle swell of smooth chest, honey colored nipples that I suddenly ached to taste. I knew them to be as delicious as they looked, sweet to the tongue, pleasing and responsive to the hand. Heat flooded me and the flesh between my legs grew throbbingly soft and full. Aching. But I held myself still, not touching him. Not yet. Not yet.

  His eyes were darker now, the pupils expanded, racing to the very rim, his irises completely swallowed up. Holding his gaze, I sank to my knees before him, ran my eyes like a tactile caress down the long length of him, letting them feast over what I would not allow myself to touch just yet. Letting them drop lower. My breathing quickened and his stomach ridged as I reached out my hand and laid it there, barely there on top of his pants, and gave a slow, one-fingered caress over the top edge of the cloth, my fingers brushing the silky hair dusting his abdomen and trailing tantalizingly down below the pants, but not touching skin. Another leisurely sweep around and around the rim of the single button on his pants. Just below that little button lay a larger, longer, throbbing thing. I felt my breath puff against my hand and caress his flesh.

  He shuddered. I trembled.

  "Mona Lisa." His voice was a bare rasp.

  "Shhh," I gently whispered.

  Slowly, oh, so slowly, I pushed that button through its hole, and carefully holding the zipper, touching nothing else, I lowered it. The harsh metallic rasp of it coming down tightened my nipples, brushing like fingers of sound over my swollen secret parts. Kneeling like a supplicant before him, my naked breasts a gentle sway away from touching him, from rubbing against his legs, I pushed down his pants, revealing him whole, bare, and beautiful.

  No underwear. What a lovely surprise.

  I gave a hum of pleasure, of appreciation as I looked my fill. He bobbed before me in standing glory, darkly flushed, wonderfully engorged, his full veins transversing the surface like dark satiny ropes. A drop of pearl-white fluid trembled at the very tip. My tongue flicked out, licking my lips, but only my quickened breath touched him, caressed him. His hands clenched. I looked up and up at him, and smiled as if I had swallowed his cream.

  "Dear Goddess," Gryphon breathed. "Mona Lisa, you're killing me."

  "I haven't even started." It was a dark promise.

  Crouching down, dropping to my hands, I crawled slowly, sinuously around him and rose on my knees behind him, my breath a soft puff on his back. And then lower. My hands came to rest on his hips, and at that first contact of skin to skin, Gryphon inhaled a shaky breath. Exhaled sharply as I slid my hands around him in front, like two slithering serpents wrapping around him. Forgot to breathe when they twined around the base of his tree and slid up his long hard sprouting length.

  One thumb smoothed over his weeping head, dipping into the wet prize, smoothing it over his sensitive crown. His buttocks tightened and flex. Irresistible. I didn't even try to resist. One hand went south unerringly to cup his lower sac. The other hand wrapped around him in a squeezingly tight grip, pumped down and back up his sturdy pole. He sucked in another breath and quivered as my thumb smoothed over the crown, smearing more liquid pre-come over the plump head as I swept over the top. All by feel alone. I didn't need my eyes to see what I was doing. I knew him intimately.

  On the downward stroke, holding his shaft tight and fisted hard, I squeezed his balls with firm, gentle pressure. Giving into temptation, I sank my teeth into the tantalizing fullness of his left buttock cheek, just below the teasing dimple near the base of his spine. He gave a low hoarse cry as my teeth sank in, breaking skin, tasting his blood, tasting him. Sweet, salty. Gryphon. Like the nectar of life.

  He cried as I pumped his hard swollen shaft again, as I lifted and squeezed his hard balls together up against the base of him, as I swirled over his head with sliding, gliding, lubricating friction, giving a passing, pinching caress with forefinger and thumb just below his underridge where the nerves collected in a rich sensating bundle.

  His hands came down to grip my arms. Not to stop me, but to hold himself as his knees buckled. I caught him, lifted him easily in my arms, and laid him down on the red silk bed sheets like a divine pale offering. His eyes were dazed and wide, his gaze fastened upon my lips, on the drop of blood dotting the right corner of my mouth. He watched, breathing fast, as my pink tongue came out and licked that crimson drop into my mouth, tasting him again with sultry appreciation.

  "You taste like life," I said. "Like moonlight itself."

  I crawled over him and crouched down, lowering my mouth to his. "Taste yourself," I whispered and kissed him. A soft press of my lips against his. A promising lick, a rasping of tongue. His mouth parted and I delicately entered. Our tongues swirled, danced, mated. And then he was in my mouth, thrusting, thrusting, his tongue moving in and out in an act as old as time immortal, making me gasp, making me burn. Making my honey flow, wetting me, and filling the air with its sweet musky scent, with our scent. Blood and sex. A potent combination.

  I pulled back, panting. Licked my lips and tasted him, blood and saliva. But it was another fluid I was suddenly hungry for.

  "Let me touch you," he pleaded.

  I looked up at him. Let him see my wicked grin. "No, it's just you this time. You. Let me please you, let me pleasure you." Bending low, I slithered over him, slithered down him, touching him with just my nipples. I rubbed my tight raspberry points over his peaked nubs, circled them together, pleasing us both, and ran them in twin lines of fire down his hard chest, his ridged abdomen, past his hips. I parted his legs, spread them with my knees, slid down into the space I had created. The springy hair of his groin was like a tickling kiss on my chest, his hard smooth length like a pulsing satin rod, soft and hard against my cheek. I rubbed my face against him, rolled him over my jaw, against my neck, inhaling him, drinking in the smooth incomparable feel of him, teasing us both until I could wait no more and I turned my face and took him into the hot wet cavern of my mouth. He slid in with a sigh, with a groan. With a tightening of his entire body and an inner clenching of mine.

  "Dear Goddess. Sweet Goddess," he gasped and lifted his hips, arching into me, pushing deeper into the greedy wet suction of my mouth. I pulled back, up, up, to the very tip and tasted him, swi
rling my tongue over him, over that blind weeping eye, another rich essence of him. And I hummed my satisfaction.

  With my eyes closed, I felt him begin that wondrous dance of light. A drawing of the inner life up into the outer being. My eyes opened and watched the beautiful subtle glow start to take him, to sweep across the pure alabaster of his skin with a cool white blush, growing more and more brilliant. To seep into his very skin, become part of it. Change him from a creature of the night into a creature of glorious light, his skin glowing, radiating from him in shafts of light that filled the room. He was unearthly beautiful in his pleasure. And his pleasure became mine, and that inner light began its eager dance within me. My skin changed, softened, glowed, and it was as if our very flesh softened, dissolved, became no more. We melded into one another where we touched, skin against skin, and then it was just light touching light, becoming one.

  I filled my mouth with him, sinking down so that my lips almost touched his base, almost enveloped him whole, my lips tight around him. My right hand reached down between us, dipping down to borrow some of my own liquid honey, rising back up to squeeze his balls because I could not resist their hanging temptation, then moving farther behind, up and back, until my questing slick finger found and circled his tightly puckered anal hole.

  My other hand squeezed his left ass cheek, finding where I had branded him and bit him, and I circled that tender broken skin. He trembled beneath me, in my mouth. I stroked up and out, my lips tight, grazing his veiny surface with my teeth as I swept up his pole, my tongue circling him. Finding him at the top, my tongue swept over that blind tender slit that oozed the sweet essence of him.

  I pierced him with my tongue, that little hole. Penetrated him with my finger at his other, forbidden hole. And probed him with yet another finger, digging into the broken skin where I had bitten him, abrading raw, tender flesh.

  He cried out sharply, sweetly, and convulsed around my finger and in my mouth. And feeling his hot jetting stream filling me, tasting him, feeling him slide down my throat as his sphincter spasmed strongly around my forefinger like a tight little mouth, gripping me, oh, so sweetly, his wet blood from where I had branded him slicking my other fingertip…