Magical Riffs
Rock Hard Seduction 4

Diana pursed her lips. Goddess help her, the man’s side profile was as hormone scorching as his front or even back. She wondered briefly how many hours he spent in the gym each week to develop those wide biceps, to keep that slim toned rib cage that showed only a hint of bone and beautifully rippled muscles. She wanted to go to him, to slide her arms around his narrow waist, kiss her way over his bare shoulders, up his neck, and trace the line of his jaw with her tongue.

Because the idea sparked a deeper burn inside her that had her nipples hardening beneath the lace of her bra and her panties growing wet with anticipatory juices, she tabled it for now and let loose with an ounce of her simmering temper instead. “You look like shit.”

“At least I’m consistent.” His words were muffled by his hands over his face. “I feel like shit.”

Lips twitching, she walked to the sink and twisted off the faucet. Compassion tugged at her as she turned back and stepped to him. “What did you do to yourself?”

“Uncle Jack stopped by.”

“Ah. I should let you suffer.” But because she couldn’t stand to see someone in pain, she sighed and reached for him. “Here, let me.” When he lifted his head to glare at her, she put her palms on his temples. “Close your eyes.” Closing her own eyes, she shut out everything around her, reached down deep, and drew up her energies. She let it flow through her, center her, fill her, marveling at the warm tingling sensation that accompanied her raise of power. As the words came to mind, she moved her lips in a silent chant to heal and soothe and let the warmth flow from her palms and into him.

The low rumbling sigh of relief he made had her smiling. The look in his eyes when he opened them moments later had her breath catching.

“I’m not in the mood to talk, Diana.” His words sounded as much of warning as statement of fact.

“Lucky for you, I didn’t come for conversation.”

“What did you come for?”

Heart pounding, Diana stared at him. She knew why she’d come, knew what she’d wanted, what she still wanted. Once she took that step there would be no going back for either of them. Truth be told, she realized, she’d already taken that step, already passed the point of no return for both of them.

“This.” She let her hands slide from his temples to cup his cheeks and, rising to her tiptoes, covered his mouth with hers. For a moment, she feared he might pull back or push her away. His body went so ridged against the counter, against her, the muscles in his face tightening in her hands.

His resistance lasted all of two seconds before his fingers curled around her wrists and he took control. The kiss was scalding, animalistic and demanding. Anger seared the edges, sucking at her breath, leaving her body dry even as every part of her became wet with need. He turned, yanked her into his arms, and backed her into the round table in the center of the kitchen floor. Before she could register what was happening, he’d shoved her hands behind her back, cuffed them in one of his, and his mouth greedily nipped along her chin, her neck, her collarbone, lower.

Diana let her head fall back as his free hand came up, snaked inside the steep V-neck of her blouse, and pulled the stretchy material down. In the next heated exotic flash, he had her bra pulled down too. Her left breast spilled over the material and his tongue drew lazy circles over the beaded surface. She heard herself moan, her hands tugging at the small of her back to free themselves from his grip. He held tight. She cried out louder, more surprised passion this time when his teeth closed around her taut nipple and gave it a gentle but slightly pressured bite. Flames licked her insides, igniting a straight line of fuel on a direct course with her pussy.

“This is what I’m in the mood for, Diana.” His breath was an intoxicating potion to her flesh. His mouth moved to her other breast, licked, bit, devoured it as he had the first, and she squirmed in his grasp.

Yes! Her sanity began to waver beneath the weight of sexual needs. She was in the mood for this, too. It was why she’d come to him this morning. Not to talk but to take, to give. She’d known they would end up in bed. What she hadn’t known, hadn’t expected was to be accosted against his kitchen table. It was, she decided as another cry escaped her lips, as another ounce of her sanity crumpled away, invigorating, beyond arousing! She remembered him being a skilled lover even at the tender age of twenty-two, but he’d been compassionate and gentle. There was none of that boy in the man who now held her captive with his hands and his mouth.

Her flesh burned with his touch, burned to be touched and when his free hand tangled in her hair and yanked her head back, the sound she made was beyond comprehension. She wanted to touch, to feel, to explore with her mouth and hands as he explored, but he held her in a way that denied her all options. He was in control, complete and unyielding. His lower body pressed against hers, penning her to the table, his hands—one in her hair, the other clasped around her wrists—holding her where he wanted her. He’d put her body in a position of only submission. By the Gods, it drove her mad!

“Let go, James,” she managed, her voice raspy and pleading. “I want to touch you.”

“No.” The single word was his only response as he continued to hold her as he wanted, continued his assault on her body with his lips, his tongue, his teeth.