Between Books: Volume Fourteen

The Vampire Huntress Legend

L. A. Banks

After The Forbidden, Before The Damned

October 2005


Just before Arizona ... 

Carlos sat on the side of the bed in his boxers, listening to Damali in the shower, and just staring at the wall. The hotel/motel situation was working his last nerve down to a nub. He cut off the blaring television, disgusted. The driving cross country from South Carolina to Arizona thing was a trip, although he could dig where everybody was coming from: nobody wanted to get on a plane any time soon. But still. Damn. And what they were headed towards—some run down house that had to be cleaned out, set up, blessed, and something all of them had to cram into, was not his version of the simple life. 

Yeah, yeah, yeah, he knew why they had to travel off the beaten path, lest media and paparazzi mob Damali and the band, but the cheap motel vibe on dusty back roads was seriously not him. Plus, with all that money just sitting in the bank? Sheeit. There had to be a better way. Living like fugitives was insane. But he’d chill, for the sake of peace. He’d be cool, if that would help make Damali relax. She’d been a ball of nerves ever since, Philly—not that he could blame her.

They’d all been through a lot. Now, they were all moving like a scared herd of sheep. Everybody ate together, didn’t go out even in the day time, without a partner. There was a night time curfew. As soon as the sun set, Marlene and Shabazz rounded everybody up, prayed over each door and window, anointed bodies, and whatnot, then everybody went back to their respective rooms. He ain’t never rolled like this.

And that was the thing, too. In a cheap motel, the walls were like paper, and all of their rooms had been arranged, family reunion style, right smack next to each other… something else that had blown the groove. Every time he’d reach for his woman, she was telling him to keep his voice down, listening hard to hear if she could hear anyone else’s conversation through the wall so theirs wouldn’t be overheard, trying to keep bed springs from squeaking. Girlfriend didn’t even wanna take a shower in duo—and water was his thing… talkin’ about the tiles echoed into the next room. So! Folks was grown and knew the deal. He loved his woman all naked and slippery and soapy in a hot spray.

Carlos rubbed his palms down his face and let out a hard sigh, resigned to the fact that, if he was going to get anywhere with Damali on a regular basis, he had to allow her to calm down and set the lovemaking agenda. Her being tense was not the way he wanted it. When she could just let go and get into it righteous, there was nothing like it in the world. But right now, after weeks of this nonsense, he felt like he was developing a damned nervous tick.

True, at first he’d been the one that couldn’t get it together. Losing his Mom and grandmother… plus Padre Lopez, had just worn him out mentally. But, little by little, the pain started to fade to a dull ache, and he’d become philosophical about it all. 

Talks with ‘Bazz and Marlene had gone a long way, on that note. Now they were some serious warriors. Had lost people real close, like he had. They’d been there, so he could respect their way of looking at things, their way of coping with the madness. Those two old-heads had perspective, like nobody else on the team. Then again, Rider and Big Mike, even Berkfield, had some serious wisdom along those lines. It was all good.

After he’d gotten his head right, then his libido had kicked in again. Then Damali’s was all off—like they were out of sync, and that had never been the case. That part worried him. Maybe, like all things, it was just a matter of time? 

What girlfriend didn’t seem to understand was, being with her, just losing himself in her, was like… like… tonic. Pure painkiller. A moment in time where he didn’t have to think about anything else, didn’t have to got deep inside his mind or soul to feel the stab of guilt, the woulda, coulda, shoulda was held at bay. If there was ever a time when he needed her to just blow his mind, it was now.

He leaned back on the bed on his elbows, watching the bathroom door, intently, and then jerked his gaze away from it to scan the room. Shit… he had to stop staring at the door so hard before he accidentally burned a laser hole through it. Women didn’t understand that, sometimes it was just like that. It didn’t matter, for a brother, if the room had a dingy coat of what was supposed to be white paint on the walls. He didn’t care about the chipped, cheap furniture, or the tired-ass pictures that hung on the walls. He didn’t care if the bedspread was some old, faded floral print in ugly green and brown and gold, or the rug had seen better days. She was beyond fine. She was his. That was enough. Just thinking about her had given him wood, and he wasn’t trying to think about nothin’ else tonight, but getting with her.

Tomorrow would be another day. Problems would always be there. Issues going on within the team would still be there. Drama with the relocation, logistics, all of that wasn’t going nowhere. Sometimes the only pragmatic thing to do was live in the moment, and allow pleasure to wash away the problems for just a little while so one could think. Sometimes the little head took precedence over the big one, so enough blood could free-flow back up to his skull to allow his mind to work at razor sharpness.

Hearing the water turn off in the next room almost made him sit up, but he didn’t. Six weeks of hearing ‘not tonight’ was enough to make him wanna rush the door. But, nah… he had more style than that. Even in a permanent relationship, a brother had to be smooth.

Carlos forced himself to take long, deep, cleansing breaths. Being human again was a bitch. A little atmosphere, maybe, wouldn’t have hurt his cause. He glanced at the table. Shoulda brought girlfriend in a bottle of wine. He’d forgotten. Was slipping. Was used to not having to plan and could be spontaneous. Shoulda maybe gotten a few smooth CDs… a small boom box… picked up a coupla candles, or something. Maybe tomorrow night, he’d set up a romantic dinner in the room.

But it still pissed him off no end that she was real tense after that last go ‘round in the hotel where Jose had been across the hall. So what Jose probably heard them? Everything was peace, between men. Brotherman wasn’t no virgin, and wasn’t on rations, per se. How was it his problem that ‘Nita was sharing a room with Inez and Krissy? Jose was grown, and coulda talked some trash to Juanita to pull her for the night, if that’s what he needed to do. 

To his way of thinking, a situation like that was for every man to work out for himself. Carlos closed his eyes. Damali was stressing about crazy shit. Why she was so worried about Jose’s sensibilities, was beyond him. Yet, had ‘Nita been next door, no doubt Damali woulda been real loud, for theatrical effect, then all grins in the morning at breakfast, rubbing female, kiss-my-ass salt in ‘Nita’s wound—rather than walking around looking guilty and quiet like she did in front of Jose. But had he gone there around Juanita, after a hollerin’, go hard night with Damali… being all humble and unnecessarily apologetic in the morning, then it would have been on, and Damali would have been in his face with ‘tude. Double-standard. Wasn’t right.

The bathroom door opened. He sat up, forgetting about what he’d been thinking about. Damali was drying her hair with a flimsy white towel. But she’d already put on a nightgown? Damn. Had already lotioned her body with She butter… in the bathroom? Why? He could smell it from across the room? He would have done that for her. Damn… he would have spread that cream all over girlfriend—she ain’t even have to ask. 

She looked up from her towel at him with a cautious smile. He could see her entire naked outline through the thin, pale yellow fabric and enjoyed the fact that the light in the room was behind her. Fantastic perspective, if he did say so himself. The lace V panel in the front was awesome. Liked the way the spaghetti straps sorta fell off her satiny, cinnamon brown shoulders. Loved how he could just barely see the darker shade of her nipples through the short, thigh-high gown. She was gorgeous.

As she neared the bed, he cut on the nightstand light. “Why don’t you turn off the one on the wall?”

She hesitated, and then doubled back to oblige his request. God she looked good… shapely ass just working under the fabric as she walked to the light switch. Could see each muscle kneading down to the backs of her thighs… the crack that separated each lovely half of her butt was a darker line beneath the lightweight cotton. Okay… he wasn’t mad no more.

When she turned around and yawned, he stood up. 

“You tired?” He didn’t mean for the question to come out the way it sounded, half a broken plea and half indignation, but shit.

“Beat,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand, yawning again. “Been a long day. Working out all the logistics of the new construction, figuring out how to get the ammo stored and stashed, training newbies, who haven’t got a clue as far as their battle reaction time.” She entered his embrace and laid her head on his shoulder. “They’re still fighting with human timing. One of them will get their heart snatched or lungs ripped out, if they don’t learn how to sense the predator before it—”

“I know, I know,” he said, cutting her off and brushing her mouth with a gentle kiss. He didn’t want to hear that team problem shit right now. “Let it rest until tomorrow.” He kissed her neck, waiting for the shiver that didn’t come. “Baby… you have got to relax. Like Marlene said, each newbie will come into their own in due time. Patience. Right?”

“Yeah, I guess you all are right,” she said, stroking his bare shoulders. “But always having my radar up, twenty-four seven, is wearing me out.” She backed up a bit to stare at him. “When I’m awake, I’m constantly scanning the group and the environment. When I’m asleep, I’m sleeping with one eye open, hoping that we don’t get a battle stations, incoming, red alert. I wake up exhausted, and go to bed exhausted. Does that make sense?”

He closed his eyes and let out a very long and patient breath. “Yeah,” he said, finding her sweet spot along the jugular to nip. She didn’t even sigh. “But, sometimes, you just have to let it go.”

“I know you’re right. Intellectually, I can accept that. But in my gut, I’m afraid of being off the job, not on-point, and I’d hate to have it on my conscience that, because I was sleeping a situation, we lost another member of our team.”

He knew she was referring to Lopez; nobody wanted anything like that to happen again, especially him. He also knew that her best girlfriend, Inez, being a part of the team, not to mention, two kids, Krissy and Bobby, was worrying her no end. He also knew what she meant by ‘sleeping on the job’—translation, being so caught up in making love that she had her radar down, her senses on full lock with him, and somebody might die on their watch, all because both Neterus were getting’ it on. But still. Damn. Six weeks? Could a brother get a little affection? 

“Listen,” he said, intermittently suckling her throat where he’d once marked their union. “You know Marlene’s got her third eye working overtime. Every now and then, you can take a break from monitoring… and you have to recharge your batteries, baby. I know I have to recharge mine.”

She wasn’t moving against him, wasn’t warming to his hold. Her body was still semi-rigid, not relaxed, hadn’t melted against his. He could sense the wheels turning in her brain, her mental engine racing, and then getting stuck in gray-matter gridlock. But the resistance was beginning to make his breathing labor. He wanted her so badly that he was beginning to get a headache.

“I hear you,” she whispered, kissing his earlobe, but not grazing his old throat wound where he really needed her to. “Maybe I should call Marlene and ask her if she’s up to monitoring tonight?”

In utter defeat, he watched Damali cross the room and head towards the phone. He closed his eyes and almost groaned. Now they needed to call a baby-sitter, break the mood, and make it public knowledge that they’d be going out… as in, going out of their minds for a few hours? This was definitely not him!

“Why you gotta call her on the phone?” he asked in exasperation. “Just lock with her, baby. Send her a quick message that—”

“I don’t know where she is right now, even if she is in her room—feel me?” Damali shot back quickly, her tone peevish. “I don’t know whether or not she and Shabazz are busy, and you just don’t go into a lock, like that, and blow the groove without the courtesy of… well, it’s not done.” She set down the telephone receiver and put both hands on her hips.

Panic washed through him. Oh, shit, not tonight. Not another argument. Lovemaking was the only thing on the agenda, as far as he was concerned. Peace. He’d stand down. Would take the weight. An immediate apology went to his lips like an SOS from his groin.

“You’re right,” he said fast, holding his hands up in front of his chest. “My bad. Call her. See if it’s convenient for her.”

Damali folded her arms over her chest. “I wouldn’t be so tired, if I wasn’t the only one doing scans all the time with Mar. She’s exhausted, I’m exhausted. Really, this late, it’s kinda tacky to pick up the telephone and ask her, ya know?”

Now why did D have to go there, making a back-handed comment on his skills? It wasn’t his fault that his Neteru scans were in flux. Hadn’t Shabazz and them told her that it would take a few months to really stabilize until the seven-seven-sevens kicked in? His arms somehow got folded over his chest.

“Fine. Don’t call her, then.”

Damali sucked her teeth and walked away from the telephone. “Cool. It’s embarrassing to have to do that, anyway.”

“Oh, shit…” he said out loud by accident, and then began pacing beside the bed.

She gave him a glare, flung back the covers, jumped into bed, and then cut off the light. “Get some sleep. Good night.”

Hope crushed, he let out an exhale of defeat. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the complete darkness, which was fucking with him as much as knowing that sleeping was all that was going to happen tonight. He got into bed, totally morose. Maybe if he talked to her, got her to calm down… He hadn’t been angling for a fight, didn’t she know that? Attempting quick reconciliation, he laid on his side to face her, but she abruptly turned away, pulled the covers up over her shoulder, and served him her back.

On his feet in an instant, he walked across the room and yanked back the drape. Moonlight bathed him and the room around them. That was much better. God, he missed the night.

“Why’d you do that?” she snapped, her tone testy and evil.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Because I still love to see your skin turn faint blue in real night light,” he said quietly. “Reminds me of when your aura would go pure liquid silver for me. That’s all.”

“Oh…” she whispered, her tone less aggressive. 

He stepped aside so that more moonlight could cover her, and he watched it bathe her face, making her eyes shimmer. “I want to open those sliding glass doors, smell the night… hear the crickets and coyotes howl. Wanna see that sheen on your skin when you’re getting hot… see your head fall back and your beautiful eyes slide shut, just for me. Don’t mind if you serve me your back, as long as it isn’t board stiff and angry, but dipping and swaying while you’re on your knees under me.” 

When she lowered her gaze and the combative expression left her face, a slight rush of adrenaline ran through him. He kept a steady gaze on her, unblinking. It was the stone cold truth. Pride ain’t have nothing to do with it tonight.

“I’ve missed you, girl,” he admitted thick in his throat. If she needed to hear heavy rap, so be it. Right about through here, he’d tell her whatever she wanted to get her to relent. “Miss seeing torchlight dance those gold and reds across your skin, like it’s burning you up from the inside out.” Every sentence was getting longer, harder to say, as he truly thought about it all. “Miss knocking your jaw back, finding your sweet spot… just smelling you get wet, tresora.”

She pushed herself up and stared at him in the semi-darkness. Now, see, why did he have to start talking trash… making her go there… ending it in a Spanish endearment? Why’d he have to be standing in half shadows… moonlight washing over his broad shoulders and cut abs, his breaths stilted, seeming as though just looking at her was making it hard for him to breathe? Black silk boxers, loaded with steel. Shit. It had been a long time, hadn’t it? She pressed a finger to her lips, thinking. Six weeks? Was she crazy? How in the hell had that happened? But, as turned-on as he seemed… no silver flicker? Why?

Was it new Net flux, or him being conflicted about that bitch, Juanita down the hall? She couldn’t think about that right now, though. There were newbies on the team… Mar might be out, so to speak. Had to keep her radar up and focus. Maybe she should have made the call.

“Why don’t you come back to bed?” she finally said in a soft murmur, and then reached in the drawer to extract a box of condoms.

Was she insane? He just looked at her and then the nightstand. Aw hell to the no.

“Your eyes aren’t flickering,” she said in an apologetic tone. She glimpsed the box, let out a weary sigh. “Your tattoo isn’t lit, either.”

“Give a brother a minute,” he said with a strained half smile.

She relaxed a bit. “Okay. I’m just not trying to…”

“I know,” he murmured, climbing back into bed beside her. His finger traced the edge of her jaw, across her collarbone, and over her shoulder, making a nightgown strap fall off it. “First I had hope,” he said, kissing her shoulder. “Then you got an attitude,” he said, kissing her throat. “Then I was like, no sense in getting myself all jacked up… if she ain’t in the mood, and I had to work it out of my system,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck as he stroked her arm. “Then… the lady gave me a yellow light… proceed with caution,” he murmured, leaning her back against the pillows and taking her mouth in a long, sensual kiss. “That’s all. It’ll come on in a minute.”

The taste of her yielding mouth made him deepen the kiss and made him explore the soft region he’d been denied for so long. Minty toothpaste entered his sinuses and he chased the fragrant flavor with his tongue, sliding his across her teeth, tangling it with hers, growing bolder as her body began to heat up. 

Shea butter and Damali was in his nose. For the first time in weeks, her skin felt alive under his touch. His body yearned to be inside her, remembering the excruciating sheath of pleasure it offered. Her soft moans were shattering him, decimating all worries. Her mint-tainted breath suddenly became something to track, hunt, and capture in a feral kiss. “Baby, I missed you so much.” 

His heart was beating in arrhythmia, keeping time with every contraction in his shaft. Jesus. He wanted to bite her so bad, it wasn’t even funny. But he had to remember that wasn’t an option. However, latex was out. To his mind, they were married.

Her sweet spot called to him in a gentle whisper as he slid her other strap down, but he ignored it, landing a kiss in the sensitive skin where her collarbone came to a V. There, he could feel her heartbeat speed up and loved the way her hands caressed his hair in a gentle, circular motion, coaxing him, encouraging him to kiss her lower. Yeah… this was how it was supposed to be. No outside intervention, nothing between them but skin—just him and her.

Lathing the swell of her breasts with a long, sensual lick, he stopped briefly to glance up at her. The expression of anticipation she had on her face nearly closed his eyes. Drawn to her cleavage, he landed tender kisses between her breasts and was rewarded as she turned into the caress, attempting to get him to capture her nipples. 

Yeah, it had been a long time for both of them, hadn’t it? Rather than rush, he allowed his thumbs to softly stroke the underside of each lobe close to the points of pain at the tips, but not touching the tender, hardened flesh until she arched and demanded he address the sting.

“Drop your radar, corazon,” he murmured in a gentle command. “You’re blocking your flow.”

His voice coated her skin with heat and sudden need. Forgotten want traveled through her, across every surface until raw desire slammed her. This was her man. Fine, smooth operator that knew her like the back of his hand. How had she allowed so much time to go by? She attempted a verbal apology for the vast oversight, but her words fused into a moan. 

Since her voice didn’t work she roughly used her tongue against his throat to explain the transgression, her lips to offer the apology, her hands to smooth away hurt. Radar faltering, she tried to divide her mind, but he’d already divided her thighs, his weight between them demanding that her undivided attention be on him.

“Who’s gonna watch over the team?” she asked in a breathless urgent whisper.

“The Almighty,” he said, slowly biting down on her sweet spot. “I defer to Omnipotence… for about two hours.”

“Be serious,” she gasped.

“Do I seem like I’m playing?” He lifted his head and stared at her for a moment, forcing her lids to go to half mast. She swallowed hard and began breathing through her mouth. “I didn’t think so.”

She couldn’t see the silver, but his grip felt like liquid steel, melting her resolve. And that look on his face… that had always been her weakness. That tone of voice near a low growl, close to panther—have mercy. It had definitely been too long.

Listening to her breathing quicken, sped his pulse. He slipped her gown down just enough to expose her nipples and blew a cool breath on the hot surfaces, wishing he could make his mouth ice for a moment. She wriggled under the sensation, and feeling her lift towards his mouth ever so slightly did something to him. The heavy throb that had been in his groin was now a pulsing question: when. Not yet. She needed to lose her mind tonight. Some things had to be rectified with sheer authority.

He let the warm tip of his tongue replace the cool air, grazing her nipples. Her soft moan and arch closer added another layer of burn to the throb. Brushing his bottom lip across the tight pebbles, he took his time, pressing the subtlest kiss above them. Fair exchange was no robbery, and her absence had been a felony. Grand larceny, to be exact. Had stolen his peace, had messed with his mind, had him walking in circles, and just acting a fool. She needed to ache for the offense as a reminder. Even amongst thieves, there was a code of honor. Never deny your man, not when he’s feeling like this.

“Don’t back off of a mind-lock,” he whispered. “It’ll do us both good.”

“I don’t wanna start thinking about anything but this right now. Okay?” 

Her voice held a plea that he could respect. She had a point… but, damn it would be so good. “I’ve only got one thing on my mind right now,” he whispered between her breasts, “and you can have it all.” He closed his eyes, let his head drop back, and sent the signal into her mind hard.

Her gasp was a slow, hissing inhale that sent a shiver through him. She didn’t have to send, as long as she received. Just take it in… all way to the hilt. There was no need for him to fully penetrate her gray matter, as long as she was down for the real entry he craved. Forget the black box—he was too far gone for that.

The thought into sliced her front mind like a hot knife through warm butter. It straightened his back, made pre-cum begin to leak. Damn, he’d forgotten how strong she was. Then she gasped and slid into his head with a delicious mental whisper that made him groan her name.

In a very fragile state of mind, he tried to pace himself by drawing a slow circle around the angry surfaces of her breasts, using the heat of his mouth in hard pants to tease without touching them. She had to know he hadn’t forgotten the basics, even if his vamp burn was a little rusty, he was still her man. 

But where was her beautiful light-filled aura? He captured a nipple gently between his teeth and flicked the very center of it with the tip of his tongue. Her sharp gasp sent another hard shudder through him. Girlfriend should have been spilling liquid color all over him by now. Maybe she really was exhausted, and wasn’t just tripping? 

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry I haven’t been more understanding,” he whispered, truly meaning it, then allowed her nightgown to ride up and cover her breasts, just so he could tease her nipples through the fabric with a gentle nuzzle against them. He covered her body with his own, and although she moved beneath him to a familiar rhythm, none of her pulse points were lit.

Shit… it felt like they were lit; maybe he just couldn’t see them? Mild panic swept through him as he knocked her head back, and she arched, groaned, and waited. He delivered a hard human bite, and her nails dug into his shoulders. Naw… she was reacting normally. It had to be him.

His apology was delivered in renewed kisses down her throat, sliding down her body as he slid off her gown with trembling hands. The moment her breasts bounced free from their fabric encumbrance, he nursed each one with care until her spine lifted at the dip-point off the bed. 

Maybe he’d been too unforgiving and not relentless enough in his pursuit… A thorough apology was in order, and he allowed his tongue to deliver it all the way down her abdomen, stopping to pay much respect to her navel, his hands a gentle glide down her sides and over her hips, nestling in the silky hair where he could French kiss away the error in judgment, beg her pardon. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her wet folds. “I’ll be more patient, I promise,” he murmured, sending tonal vibrations against her bud before he pulled it between his lips.

“I’m sorry, too,” she said on a strangled whisper, gathering the fitted sheet in her hands. What had she been thinking? Oh, Lord… silver or not, this man was awesome. Her lids slid shut and her eyes crossed beneath them. His tongue had found the burning rim that had been neglected too long. She couldn’t worry about who was in the next room, couldn’t remember the motel layout right now if her life depended on it. Right… there… 

He’d read her mind, had found… oh, yes… the spot… A hard plunge, followed by rabbit flicks, broken up by a mad-crazy tempo that was gonna make her holla. She covered her mouth with one hand, shuddering. 

“I wanna hear your voice, desesperado,” he murmured in a hot wash within her.

“Oh, shit!”

Now that’s what he was talking about. Uhmmm, hmmm… yeah… just like that. He went back to the task with a deep sense of satisfaction threading through him. This was his woman, his wife. Wasn’t about half-stepping. His grip tightened on her thighs, spreading them wider so his tongue could explore deeper. Then suddenly her bud drew his focus, pulling his attention to it, a soft suckle, timed with ardent flicks till he got that bottomed-out moan, that exact shudder he was seeking, that thigh-muscle closing pulse that threatened to suffocate him in wet flesh. He’d die like that any night she so chose, his hands loving the feel of her rhythmically lifting bottom, butter soft ass… working hard to get more.

He lifted his head, just to see her expression. Tears glistened in her eyes in the moonlight as she sat up slightly, a plea on her face. It did something to him. Made him cover her, the ache in his length near unbearable. Conflict ate at his conscience, but never made it past his groin. He should have let her cum again, but it had been six freakin’ weeks. His mouth was on hers before he had time to really think about more options. 

The moment the head hit her wetness, he forgot all about slow, even entry. It was sloppy, hard, the shudder a divine pleasure bolt snapping vertebra as it ripped up his spine and threw his head back. The groan simultaneous. Thunder right after the lightening. “Oh, baby… damn, I missed you.” The first few strokes were erratic, too fast, roiling pressure in his sac… about to explode. He knew it, but didn’t care.

Primal sensation sent hands on fire into her hair, clasping her head, rushing down her arms, seeking anchor around her back, her legs a vice around his waist, her graceful palms sliding wanton memory into his cells. A cool spot; her hand reaching for something. Whatever, just don’t stop moving or touching him. He kissed the inner bend in her elbow, instantly remembering the pulse point blind.

A box hit his shoulder. He looked up, ignored her, wurking, sweating, found her throat, and bit down hard.

The box slid out of her hand. Fuck all that—not now. The window of opportunity had closed, and slammed down hard. Her hair was in his fists.

“You wanted me to stop?” he asked through his teeth, looking down at her into her eyes without missing a beat.

“I… I think… you—”

A hard thrust cut off her words.

“You sure?” he said, then captured her mouth with a brutal kiss and broke from it to keep from passing out.

Her lips parted, he could feel an answer get trapped in her throat, and scored her jugular again.

“Oh, God…”

“I’ll stop if you want to,” he said, gaining momentum, and then pushed hard on the headboard to spare her a concussion. “Talk to me. You want me to stop?”

“No! Don’t stop.” 

He took her mouth again and tightened his embrace. “?Continuar?” He stopped moving and abruptly pulled out. “?Prohibido la entrada?” He kissed her harder and tears raced down her cheeks. “I’ll do whatever my wife asks me to, tresora—you know that, right?”

“Put it in,” she said on a strangled gasp, her voice escalating to a decibel he loved.

He didn’t move, just kissed her throat breathing hard.

“Okay, I’m begging you.” She returned the kiss quickly.

“Tell me in Spanish.”

“I can’t remember!” she wailed, arching under his hold and digging the crown of her head into the pillows. 

“Want me to remind you?” he asked, panting.

She sat up a little, lifting them both slightly, grabbed the nape of his neck, and spoke to him between her teeth without blinking. “No. Let me remind you.” 

She bit him so hard that he saw stars when he shut his eyes. She’d caught him with a lightening fast, blunt-edge strike that almost made him cum on her belly. He couldn’t play any more, he had to get inside her, but she avoided the thrust, chuckled low in her throat, and made him crazy all at the same time.

She shrugged and glanced at the box and then spoke to the ceiling. “Me supplico que parara.” 

“I know, I know, I begged you to stop, but—”

She captured his body with hers on a swift thrust and took his mouth the same way. He was done.

The convulsion ran up his shaft, made him throw his head back, embedded her name in the wail, and ruined his will. Her head hit the wood at the top of the bed, but she’d arched so hard beneath him that he couldn’t begin to process stopping. When she called his name it had sent fractured light beneath his lids and set off another deep implosion in his groin.

“Oh, tresora, shit… I love you, girl!”

Her answer was an elongated wail that hitched, broke into pieces of shrill orgasmic response that ripped him to shreds.

Spent, panting, he couldn’t even lift his head for a moment. Soft hands pet his shoulders. A gentle kiss brushed his sweat-damp temple. The heat of the air in the room slowly eased to a cool covering as his intermittent tremors abated.

“We didn’t use protection,” she murmured, gulping air.

He smiled with his eyes closed. What could he say? “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she whispered.

He just nodded with his eyes still closed. “Next time. But don’t make it so long between visits, okay?” He let his forehead drop against hers. “Just promise me that. Damn.”