“Skye-”
“Don’t talk. Make love to me.”
She pulled off her shirt and felt his bare skin against hers. She was urgent, moaning as her nipples pressed against his chest, as his large hand pushed between them and molded around her breast.
She fumbled with his jeans. He had to stand so she could push them down, along with his briefs, and his semi-hard cock grew under her touch. He knelt in front of her, kissed her, his hands on her breasts. She pushed his head from her lips downward, and he took one small breast into his mouth, his hand cupping and squeezing the other. She gasped as his teeth lightly bit her nipple, then reached down and squeezed him, pulling him closer to her.
“Skye-” he whispered into her chest.
“Shh.” He always wanted to make sure she was comfortable, that she was enjoying herself, so concerned about her that he never really let himself
But she didn’t want to talk about it, not now; she just wanted Anthony in her, over her, any way she could get him. He was hers; she wanted to mark him.
Very unlike her. She swallowed uneasily, then Anthony whispered in her ear, “I love you, Skye,” as he stood, helping her to her feet.
He slid off her uniform pants and panties together, and she was naked. He picked her up to carry her to the bedroom. Always the gentleman. Always chivalrous.
“Right here, right now,” she said, using her body to direct him toward the counter. Uncertain, he sat her on the edge and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He was exactly the right height to make love to her like this.
Before he could protest, she guided him into her, then slid forward to take him completely. She gasped, wrapped her arms around him, and his hands moved to support her. His cock involuntarily jerked inside her. He was trying to control it again, to fight the passion, to make sure she was comfortable, that she orgasmed first, that she had pleasure even if he denied himself.
But she knew his body now, knew how to push him over the edge. She kissed his earlobe, her tongue circling, sucking, moving down his jawline, to his lips where she kissed him hard, drawing his tongue into her mouth, mimicking sex. His cock soon followed the rhythm she set with their mouths and they both groaned, so close to the edge, so close to losing themselves completely in each other.
Anthony couldn’t resist Skye when she touched him. She was a siren for him, calling, beckoning, drawing him in. She was his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. As soon as she nipped his tongue he let himself go, pulling out of her, then plunging in, her body open and inviting, her voice a melodious mixture of lust and satisfaction. Her body glistened with sweat as she worked them both up; he kissed her neck, tasted her salty flesh, wanted more. He braced his legs, bending his knees for better control. Her back arched and her head tilted back. He watched her face as her mouth opened on a high gasp of pleasure. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter; her long blond hair fell down her back in damp waves.
He swallowed a grunt, sweat pouring off his skin as he held himself in check, wanting desperately to pump heavily into Skye but not wanting to hurt her, not wanting to deny her pleasure. Then she reached behind him and dug her fingernails into his butt, squeezing as she pushed herself into him. He would have stumbled backward, but she pulled them into the counter. He worried she’d hurt her back, but then her finger touched the tender skin on the underside of his penis and he groaned out loud, pushing himself into her as he came in a powerful, uncontrollable wave of ecstasy. Her body tightened around him and she shook with her own release.
He held her close. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Why?” Her breath was short and fast.
“I lost control. I wanted to satisfy you.”
“You did. And I like it when you lose control.”
“I don’t. It’s-” He didn’t know how to say it. It felt
“You can’t control everything, Anthony,” she said quietly.
Lights from a car coming up the street cast shadows across the kitchen. Anthony stepped back, picking Skye up and putting her on the floor.
“Someone stopped in front of the house,” he said.
She nodded toward his pants on the floor by the table as she grabbed her uniform and underclothes. “Get dressed. I’ll be right out.”
She walked into the bedroom. Anthony knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know what. He started to follow, but the knock on the door stopped him.
He crossed to the front door and looked out the side window. Rafe.
And Moira. They both had blood on them.
Something had gone terribly wrong.
Fiona listened to Ian explain how he-and two other strong, grown men! — had lost Raphael Cooper.
She was beyond furious that Moira-of all people-had found Cooper first.
But it explained a lot.
“Are you certain you shot her?”
“Her arm was bleeding pretty good, and Walter cut her neck.”
“He should have slit her throat when he had that knife on her. He’s a weak fool. Take care of him.”
Ian cleared his throat. “Can you try the blood demon again? We’re ready to go out.”
“No. Now that won’t work.”
Fiona paced, the electricity in the room sparking with her anger.
Serena explained to Ian, “It’s Moira’s blood. If Cooper has any of it on him, it’s protecting him. We won’t be able to find him.”
“What’s so special about her blood?” Ian asked. “She’s not a witch anymore.”
“She’ll always be a witch, whether she uses magic or not,” Serena said.
Fiona interrupted before Serena said more. Not because it was a secret about Moira’s bloodline, but simply because the subject infuriated her. All she’d done to protect Moira as the Mediator was now being used against Fiona.
“That doesn’t explain why we lost him after the cabin,” Fiona said. “My Third Eye saw him, we knew he was there, but then he was gone.”
Serena cleared her throat. “Maybe it was her physical presence that gave him some sort of protective bubble. Your ‘eye’ has never been able to find her unless she used magic; maybe if she’s near Cooper or anyone else she passes that shield on to them.”
“Andra Moira needs to die. She’s been an annoyance, and now she’s becoming a problem.” Fiona turned to Ian. “Take care of the idiot Walter, and make sure everyone understands that Moira is wanted only dead. No excuses, no hesitation.”
“Yes, Fiona.”
She waved at him to make him go away, and he left. It was her and Serena. The good daughter.
“It’s too late to set up the ritual tonight, and we need a new location.” She needed Cooper, but it could wait until the Seven were bound in the
“I have one.” Serena handed her a printout from the local
